The Vanishing
918 Words
“Ophelia.”
The name was still hanging in the air when a heavy hand slammed down on Alchie’s shoulder.
“Alchie! What are you doing? The backup power is on. We need you back on stage now!”
It was Jax, his head of security. Behind him, two more guards moved in, their presence blocking the narrow hallway. At the same time, a sharp voice cut through from the other direction.
“Sophie! There you are! Stop daydreaming and get to the loading dock. We’ve got a rig to tear down.”
It was the stage manager. Before Alchie could reach out, before he could grab her hand and demand to know how she was alive, Sophie scrambled to her feet.
She didn't look back. She looked terrified, her face pale under the harsh emergency lights. She turned and disappeared into the maze of black curtains and equipment crates.
“Wait!” Alchie roared, his voice more wolf than man.
“Sir, the crowd is rioting. You have to finish the set,” Jax insisted, physically steering him toward the stage steps.
Alchie’s wolf snarled, a sound of pure rage vibrating in his chest. He wanted to tear through the guards. He wanted to scent the air until he found her. But the stadium was beginning to shake with the rhythmic chanting of thousands of fans.
More importantly, he felt a familiar, sharp tug in his gut.
The moon.
Outside, the sun had finished setting. The Full Moon was rising, and as the Alpha of the Vordstarwood Pack, he didn't just feel the moon, he belonged to it. If he didn't finish this show and get to the forest soon, he would shift right here in front of the cameras.
“Get me back on stage,” Alchie hissed through gritted teeth. “Now.”
For the next forty minutes, Alchie was a ghost on stage. He sang the songs, he hit the notes, but his eyes never stopped searching the darkness of the wings. He looked for the girl with the old-soul eyes, but she was gone.
The moment the final firework exploded, Alchie didn't wait for the applause. He sprinted off stage, tearing the gold mask from his face.
“Where is she?” he demanded, grabbing the first tech-crew member he saw.
The young man trembled. “Who, sir?”
“The girl! Brown hair, eyes like… like she’s seen the end of the world. She was by the south rig!”
The crew member shook his head. “Sir, everyone’s wearing the same grey team vests tonight. There are fifty girls back here.”
“Her name is Ophelia!” Alchie shouted.
The crew member looked confused. “There’s no Ophelia on the roster, Mr. Monister. Maybe she was a fan who snuck back?”
Alchie pushed past him, heading for the lockers. He found the one she had been standing near. It was open. Empty.
Jax caught up to him, his face grim. “Alchie, we have to go. The cars are waiting. The Pack is already at the ritual site. If the Alpha is late for the Full Moon, the elders will…”
“She was here, Jax,” Alchie whispered, his fingers gripping the cold metal of the locker until it bent. “I touched her. I saw the ritual. She felt it too.”
“The girl you lost is dead, Alchie,” Jax said softly, though his eyes stayed wary. “The Moon is playing tricks on your mind. You’re smelling humans and seeing ghosts because your wolf is restless.”
“It wasn't a trick.”
Alchie looked at the exit. He wanted to stay. He wanted to tear this stadium apart until he found her. But his bones began to ache, a deep, grinding pain that signaled the start of the change. His eyes flashed a bright, predatory gold.
“She’s gone anyway,” Jax added, checking his tablet. “One of the lighting techs, a girl named Sophie, took permission to leave an hour ago. She’s already off the grounds.”
“Sophie,” Alchie repeated. The name felt wrong. It felt like a lie.
He let out a low, broken howl that was drowned out by the roar of the departing crowd. He had no choice. He had to lead his pack. He had to run beneath the moon while his heart stayed behind in a dark hallway.
Miles away, Sophie sat on the bus, her forehead pressed against the cold window. Her hands were still shaking.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the fire. She heard the chanting. And she saw the eyes of the man in the gold mask eyes that looked at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.
“Ophelia,” he had called her.
“My name is Sophie,” she whispered to her reflection, trying to convince herself. “I’m just Sophie.”
But as the bus drove past the dark edge of the Vordstarwood forest, she felt a strange, painful tug in her chest. Like a string was tied to her heart, and something deep in the woods was tugging on it.
High above, the Full Moon broke through the clouds, turning the world to silver.
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