Drawn next Door

ChapterThree

Mornings in Hollow’s Nyx always feel colder after a night of strange dreams.

I woke up tangled in sweat and blankets, breath heavy in my chest like I’d run through the woods barefoot. And maybe I had—if only in my mind. I kept seeing the black wolf’s eyes, the curve of his snarl, the weight of his gaze like it saw something in me I didn’t know existed.

Something I’m still not sure I want to find.

The scent of sage and dried roses drifts through the hallway as I make my way into the kitchen. Grandma Elara’s already at her usual place, seated at the long oak table covered in jars, scrolls, and loose herbs. She hums something low and ancient, something that feels older than our bloodline.

She looks up when I enter, her gaze piercing, steady. “You’re walking heavy this morning.”

“I didn’t sleep much.”

“Still thinking about the temple?”

I freeze by the hearth, then nod once. “Always.”

Grandma doesn’t ask for more. She never does when she knows I won’t answer. Instead, she gestures to the pot of herbal tea steeping by the window. “Take some warmth. You’ll need it.”

I pour a cup and sip in silence, eyes drifting to the little wooden frame on the far shelf. My parents’ faces stare back at me—frozen in time. My father’s sharp jaw and proud shoulders. My mother’s quiet smile. I miss them like missing is a bone-deep ache, something I carry around like a second spine.

I set the cup down gently.

“Going out?”

“Yeah. Meeting Aurora.”

“She’ll run. You’ll chase. Like always.”

I smile faintly. “Like always.”

Grandma gives a little sigh, then adds softly, “You’re still set on joining the warrior recruits?”

“Yes.”

“You know the wisdom path is still open to you. You’d make a fine healer.”

“I’d rather learn how to break bones than mend them.”

She clicks her tongue, but there’s no malice in it. Just disappointment worn smooth with time. I don’t wait for her to say more. If I stay, she’ll start listing the names of ancestors who were wise, not wild.

But I didn’t inherit their calling.

I step out into the cool morning air, the sky still wearing its dusky blue robe, and head toward the training ridge.

Aurora is already there, arms overhead in a stretch, her copper braid swinging like a pendulum. She spots me and grins like the world’s never wrong.

“Took you long enough.”

“I was avoiding another wisdom speech.”

“Tell Elara to take it up with me. I’ll shift in her kitchen next time and ruin her herb jars.”

I laugh, and it feels good—natural.

Aurora darts ahead before I can reply, her boots skimming over the grass. She always runs like she’s been set on fire—fast, bold, impossible to catch. I jog behind, trying to ignore the dull ache in my legs and the louder ache in my chest.

Usually, I don’t mind being the slower one. I like the stillness of it—the breath between steps, the rhythm of the world. But today, everything feels too loud. Every sound reminds me of the forest. Of snapping twigs. Of growls. Of bones breaking under teeth.

Of him.

When I finally catch up, Aurora’s already stretched out on a boulder near the water’s edge, her cheeks pink from exertion and her curls plastered to her temples. She tosses me a lopsided smile and pats the rock beside her.

“You looked like you were thinking too hard back there.”

I sit beside her, resting my elbows on my knees. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“Tell me something new.”

We sit in silence for a beat. The stream below rushes over rocks like it’s racing us, and birds cry out somewhere in the trees. I glance at Aurora, and before I can stop myself, I ask:

“How do you shift?”

She blinks. “Huh?”

“When you change—into your wolf. What do you think about? How does it happen?”

She tilts her head. “You’ve never asked me that before.”

“I know,” I say quickly. “But I’ve been wondering. It’s not exactly something they teach you.”

Aurora sits up straighter, her brows drawing together in concern. “Bella…” Her voice softens. “Why are you asking me that? You’ve never really cared before.”

I quickly look down at my hands. “I don’t know. I’ve just been thinking about it lately, that’s all.”

“Thinking about how to shift?” she presses.

“Yeah,” I lie, the word sticking in my throat. “It’s… frustrating. I keep wondering what it’s supposed to feel like.”

Aurora gives me a long, skeptical look. “Bella, are you telling me there’s something you haven’t told me?”

I force a laugh, trying to steer away from the truth without looking like I’m hiding anything. “No. You’d be the first to know if I did shift. Trust me.”

She studies my face for another moment before relaxing. “You better. I mean, I get it if you’re stressed. You’re the only one in our class who hasn’t gotten her wolf yet. No pressure.”

“Gee, thanks,” I mutter.

“I just mean—” she sighs. “It’s not fair. You train harder than anyone. You’ve got more guts than half the guys, and yet… the Moon still hasn’t given you your wolf. I don’t get it.”

I shrug, keeping my expression neutral even as my thoughts burn beneath the surface. I don’t get it either. Why did it happen once—and why can’t I do it again?

“You still planning on signing up for the warrior recruitments?” Aurora asks, tossing a stone toward the stream.

“Of course.”

Her head snaps toward me. “Seriously?”

“Dead serious.”

“But Bella, what if… what if you still haven’t shifted by then?”

“Then I fight without my wolf,” I say, sharper than intended. “It doesn’t mean I can’t be just as strong.”

“But they’ll come down hard on you. You know that.”

“Good. Let them. I’ll work twice as hard. Be twice as smart. I won’t be the first to walk into that ring with something to prove.”

Aurora’s mouth opens, then closes again. She hesitates, like she wants to argue—but knows she won’t win.

“You’re the most stubborn person I know,” she mutters.

“And you’re still my best friend.”

“Unfortunately.”

I smile, but inside, my stomach twists.

Because I want to tell her. I want to spill everything—the black wolf, the panic, the shift that felt like my bones lit on fire from the inside out. I want to ask if it’s normal that I haven’t felt that power since. But the words stay locked behind my teeth.

Because it wasn’t just any shift. It felt tied to him. That moment. That place.

And I’m not ready to talk about that part—not until I understand what it means.

So I keep it hidden, tucked somewhere safe, even from Aurora.

At least for now.