Chapter 8 Silvara’s POV
1019 Words
I have waited.
Waited through fire, through blood, through shadow.
Waited in the deep places of the soul where even memory dares not dwell.
And now—she wakes.
My girl. My vessel. My sister in spirit.
Anika.
She stirs in agony, her body burning, her heart torn in two. The bond is unraveling. Slowly. Painfully.
This is what it means to reject a mate.
To cut the thread the Moon Goddess herself weaves.
Even when it is righteous. Even when it is necessary.
I feel it all. Her pain. Her longing. Her defiance.
But she does not yet know what she truly is.
What we are.
I must be gentle.
“Anika.” I call softly, brushing her mind like wind through dying embers.
She does not answer at first. Her body is too weak. Her spirit flickers.
“Anika.”
She stirs.
“Who’s there?” she rasps, broken and small.
I ache for her. I burn with her.
“It’s me—Silvara. Your wolf.”
She gasps softly. Her mind’s eye opens. She reaches for me, trembling.
“Silvara… Is this real?”
“It is.”
“And happy birthday, Anika. Today, we are one. Not just in body, but in spirit.”
She says nothing. The silence is a question.
A doubt. A wound.
“I think you’ve got the wrong rogue,” she murmurs. “I’m no one.”
Ah. The lie they taught her. The mask they made her wear.
“You are not no one. You are my chosen. You are hers.”
“And Corbin… Corbin is still yours.”
She flinches.
“The bond is fading,” she says. “I feel it breaking.”
“It is wounded,” I admit. “But not broken. Not until he accepts the rejection.”
A pause. Then a bitter whisper.
“So I wait. I suffer. Until he’s done with me.”
My heart swells, wild with sorrow and fury.
“You endure, little flame. You do not suffer—you survive. There is power in that. Power they cannot see.”
She is quiet. But I sense her listening now.
“You did not choose this bond. Neither did he. But it is not a curse. Not yet. Ezra has not let go. Nor have you.”
“Ezra,” she repeats. “His wolf.”
“Yes.”
I show her a vision—fleeting and fragile. A glimpse of Corbin’s soul through Ezra’s eyes: protective, aching, primal.
“Why does it hurt so much?” she whispers.
“Because love is not a wound—it is a mirror. And it shows you what you’ve lost.”
A breath. A sob she does not let escape.
“I just wanted peace.”
“Then we will carve it from the chaos. You and I.”
“But know this—Anika, you are not just any girl. You were forged in pain, yes, but also in prophecy. I see beyond the veil. And so do you, even if you don’t understand it yet.”
She is silent. Processing. Struggling.
But still burning.
“Sleep now,” I tell her. “When you wake, you will rise. Stronger. And I will be with you.”
She stirs. Morning clings to her skin like dew. Her fever has broken, but the ache remains—a phantom tethered to Corbin’s soul.
I feel her thoughts. The weight of memories. The whisper of lips on a forehead. The sting of regret.
She moves through the house like a ghost. Until they shout—until they see her.
“Happy birthday,” they say.
She freezes. Flinches. But I stand taller inside her.
Let them see. Let them remember.
Luna hugs her. I approve. She is wise, this one. She sees more than most.
“She told me she’s a Seer,” Anika says in thought.
“She is. But her vision is fragmented. Yours is deeper. You are touched by the moon’s shadow.”
She barely reacts. She is too full. Too raw.
She chooses solitude. The dining hall. I smell them before she does.
Grace. Perfume and poison.
Corbin. And Ezra—his scent is stronger.
Her reaction is immediate. My growl escapes her lips. Our first true voice together.
Grace clings to Corbin like ivy. He looks like he’s drowning in his own guilt.
Good.
Anika holds her ground. My pride swells. She does not cry. She does not flinch.
She does not run.
He storms after her. She lets him speak. Lets him rage.
But she does not bow.
That’s my girl.
She shifts the conversation—cuts him with truth.
“I’d rather suffer than be someone’s prisoner.”
It nearly breaks him.
I feel Ezra recoil. He mourns. He howls inside Corbin’s mind, but the boy cannot hear him clearly anymore. Pride and pain have clogged his ears.
We walk away. Again.
Later, Briar comes. His energy is steady, his aura calm. He is not a threat, but he is not harmless either.
He touches her face. She allows it.
I do not snap. But I growl. Low. Possessive.
“Careful,” I whisper in her mind. “You tempt the thread of fate.”
“I’m not doing anything,” she mutters, but her thoughts are wild and bruised.
We shift.
My body explodes into the world.
I am. Finally. Fully.
Silver wind. Moonlight wrapped in muscle and bone. I run. I run and I sing.
She laughs in my mind, the first real sound of joy since we awoke.
Then—
A shadow crashes into us.
Not Briar.
Ezra.
The world falls away.
We tumble.
We breathe.
We see.
And when I meet his eyes, everything inside me stills.
This is the soul meant to match mine. A wolf of storm and loyalty. Of rage and tenderness.
Anika shudders inside me. So do I.
“We were never going to outrun this, were we?” she thinks.
“No,” I whisper. “But maybe… we’re meant to run through it.”
Together.
- Writer
