Chapter Ten: Blood Remembers
407 Words
Maeve waited until nightfall.
The village slept, lanterns dimmed, the air cool and quiet. Aria sat across from her at a small wooden table, hands wrapped around a cup of steaming tea she hadn’t touched.
“You didn’t ask,” Maeve said.
Aria lifted her eyes. “I was afraid of the answer.”
Maeve nodded once. “Wise.”
She reached beneath the table and drew out a thin blade—not threatening, just honest. She pricked Aria’s finger before she could protest.
A single drop of blood fell onto the wood.
It didn’t spread.
It glowed.
Soft silver light pulsed gently, like a heartbeat.
Aria sucked in a breath. “That’s not possible.”
Maeve watched the blood with reverence. “It is, if you know what you’re looking at.”
She wrapped Aria’s finger and leaned back. “Your blood remembers.”
“Remembers what?” Aria whispered.
“An old line,” Maeve said. “Older than packs. Older than thrones.”
Aria shook her head. “I was born an omega. I was nothing.”
Maeve’s eyes softened. “You were hidden.”
She stood and crossed the room, retrieving a worn symbol etched into stone—a crescent marked through with ancient runes.
“Your mother came through this village once,” Maeve continued. “She wore this sign. She was afraid.”
Aria’s breath caught. “You knew her?”
“I knew of her,” Maeve corrected. “She was running from Alphas who feared what her child might become.”
The bond stirred—sharp, restless.
Kael.
Maeve noticed Aria flinch. “Your mate feels it too, doesn’t he?”
Aria said nothing.
Maeve smiled knowingly. “Good. That bond will protect you—for now.”
“For now?” Aria echoed.
“You don’t awaken gently,” Maeve said. “And when you do… packs will notice.”
Aria stared at the glowing mark until the light finally faded.
“I don’t want power,” she said. “I just want to live.”
Maeve placed a hand over hers. “Then you must learn to control it. Because power that sleeps still dreams.”
Outside, a distant howl echoed—far too close to be a border wolf.
Maeve’s expression hardened. “They’re coming sooner than I hoped.”
Aria’s heart began to race. “Who?”
Maeve blew out the lantern.
“Everyone.”
- Writer
