Bella’s P.O.V.
The room was dim, lit only by the flickering flames in the fireplace and the soft glow of the moon filtering through the high windows. Aunt Claire sat cross-legged before me, her hands gently holding mine. Her eyes were closed, and her voice murmured softly in a language that brushed against my ears like wind through ancient trees. The air around us was thick with energy—static and humming with something both sacred and strange.
I sat across from her, my breathing slow, trying to mirror her calm, but my heart was beating out of rhythm.
Aurora.
My wolf.
My other half.
And I hadn’t heard her in three days.
“I need you to relax your mind,” Claire said, her voice calm and hypnotic. “Let the noise go. Strip away the grief, the fear. All that’s left should be her.”
I tried
