Chapter Six
778 Words
The room feels too small, the air too thick. My pulse pounds in my ears, my fingers digging into the furs beneath me as I try to steady myself. The woman’s words echo in my mind, looping over and over until they lose meaning.
One of us.
It doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense.
I shake my head, my breathing coming too fast, too shallow. My body still aches, my muscles trembling with exhaustion, but beneath it, something hums—something foreign. My senses are too sharp, my skin hypersensitive, every sound amplified as though the world around me is crisper, clearer, more alive.
The figures in the shadows move, and I instinctively tense. My gaze flicks to them—there are at least three, their silhouettes barely discernible in the dim light. They aren’t just watching. They are waiting.
I swallow hard. “I don’t understand.”
The woman kneeling beside me studies me carefully, her dark eyes steady. “I know,” she says gently. “But you will.”
Frustration flares hot inside me. I push myself up onto my elbows, wincing at the ache in my limbs. “Tell me now,” I snap, my voice rough. “Tell me what’s happening to me.”
A deep, unfamiliar voice speaks from the shadows. “You’re changing.”
My head jerks toward the source, and one of the figures steps forward. The light catches his face, revealing sharp, angular features, golden eyes gleaming beneath thick dark brows. He moves with a quiet confidence, his presence filling the space as he stops a few feet from where I lay.
I don’t know him. But something inside me recognizes him.
He tilts his head slightly, assessing me with an unreadable expression. “You survived the bite,” he says, as if that alone should explain everything.
I let out a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah, I noticed.”
His gaze flickers to my hands, where my nails have lengthened just slightly, the edges sharper than they should be. A prickle of unease runs down my spine. I curl my fingers into fists, hiding them in the folds of the furs.
The woman beside me sighs. “What do you remember?”
I hesitate. The memories are hazy, shifting like sand in my mind. I remember the sanctuary. The wolf. The bite. The fire in my veins. And then—
Pain. Darkness. And now, this.
“Not much,” I admit, my voice quieter now. “I remember the wolf. I remember the pain.” I pause, frowning. “And I remember… eyes. Watching me.”
A long silence stretches between us. The man in front of me exhales slowly, almost as if confirming something to himself.
“That was him,” the woman murmurs, almost too softly for me to hear.
A chill settles in my chest. “Who?”
The man doesn’t answer. Instead, he crouches down to my level, his golden eyes locking onto mine. “Your body is adjusting,” he says, as if reading the turmoil in my mind. “You’re stronger now. Faster. Your senses will sharpen. But it will take time.”
I shake my head. “No. That’s not possible.”
His lips curve slightly, but there’s no amusement in his expression. “It is.”
I push myself up further, my limbs shaking from the effort. “Why me?” I demand. “Why did this happen?”
He studies me for a moment before answering. “Because he chose you.”
A shiver runs through me. “Who?”
“The wolf.” His voice is calm, but there’s an edge to it, something knowing. “You weren’t just bitten, Feyre. You were marked.”
The room tilts, and I sway, my breath catching. “Marked,” I whisper, the word foreign on my tongue.
The woman reaches out, steadying me with a hand on my arm. “We’ll help you understand,” she promises. “But you need to rest. The worst is over, but the real challenge is just beginning.”
I want to argue, to demand more answers, but exhaustion pulls at me, my body betraying me once more. My vision blurs, my limbs growing heavier by the second.
My mind fights to stay awake, but the darkness pulls harder. I hear their voices drifting over me as I slip under again.
“She’s stronger than we thought.”
“She has to be. He wouldn’t have chosen her otherwise.”
“I hope she’s ready for what’s coming.”
Then the voices fade, and I am lost to the blackness once more.
- Writer
