The Crossing
1468 Words
Lizzy’s POV
I woke up aching.
Every inch of my body hummed with the memory of the night before—heat seared into skin, a low throb between my thighs, a bruise along my ribs where his hands had held too tightly, too long.
A reminder.
I was his.
I stretched slowly, dragging the blanket higher. The fire had long since died out, but my skin still burned. The room was cast in cold gray dawn, and Varek stood near the door, fully dressed, still as a statue.
He looked like he hadn’t slept.
Like maybe he never did.
I sat up, wincing slightly, the ache in my muscles not unpleasant, just unfamiliar.
“You’re up early,” I said, voice still scratchy from sleep.
“I didn’t sleep,” he replied, not turning around. His tone was flat, back to the soldier edge I thought we’d shed last night.
I blinked. “Right. Of course you didn’t.”
He turned then, tossed something onto the edge of the bed—a black t-shirt and a pair of dark jeans.
“Put these on. We leave in fifteen minutes.”
Just like that.
No warmth. No softness. No mention of what had happened between us.
“Seriously?” I stared at the clothes. “Not even a ‘good morning,’ or a ‘hey, that was life-altering s*x last night, hope you’re good?’”
His expression didn’t change. “It was a mistake.”
The words landed like a punch.
A mistake.
I swallowed, hard. “Wow. Thanks. I’ll be sure to add that to the list of soul-crushing quotes I didn’t ask for.”
He turned away again, jaw tight. “You knew what it was.”
I pushed the blanket off and stood, too angry to care that I was still naked. “No, I didn’t, actually. Because while you were busy brooding like some dark prince out of a supernatural soap opera, I was busy giving a damn.”
“Get dressed, Elizabeth.”
My name, not Lizzy.
My heart twisted, but I didn’t let it show. Not in front of him. I yanked on the jeans and shirt and laced my boots in silence.
When I was ready, he opened the cabin door and stepped into the morning without another word.
I followed.
The air outside was sharp with frost, the sky low and overcast. We started walking uphill through thick pine, the forest around us unfamiliar and quiet. The only sound was our boots crunching over old leaves and wet earth.
“You’re really not going to talk to me at all?” I asked after a while.
Varek’s jaw ticked. “There’s nothing to say.”
“There’s literally everything to say,” I snapped. “Like maybe why you acted like I mattered last night and now you’re treating me like I’m a logistical problem.”
His silver eyes cut toward me, but he didn’t answer.
Typical.
We kept climbing. The slope grew steeper, and my lungs burned with the effort. I wasn’t out of shape, but I’d never hiked this deep into the mountains. No trail. No guide. Just him.
Finally, I said, “You know, this is where most horror movies start.”
He arched a brow. “You think I’d kill you now?”
“No,” I muttered. “You already ruined me. Might as well finish the job.”
He stopped.
I almost ran into him.
“Don’t say that,” he said, voice low and rough.
I met his gaze. “Why not? You did.”
His eyes searched mine for a beat too long. “You don’t understand what’s coming.”
“Then tell me,” I whispered. “Tell me why you’re so afraid to care about me.”
He turned away, and for a moment I thought that was it. But then he said, “Because once you cross that threshold, there’s no turning back.”
We crested the ridge in silence.
And there it was.
A wide clearing ringed in ancient stone—cracked, worn, humming faintly with something I couldn’t name. The threshold.
“It’s like a gate,” Varek said. “It only opens for those who carry the blood.”
I shivered. “Your realm.”
He nodded. “It’ll hurt.”
“Why?”
“It’s not meant for wolves,” he said. “Only for what we are.”
“And what exactly are we, Varek?” I asked.
He turned to me then, stepped close, his eyes burning silver. “You’ll see.”
Then he did something I wasn’t expecting.
He touched his temple.
A voice echoed from his mouth—but it wasn’t entirely his.
“I am Zehrin,” it said. “The shadow beneath his skin.”
I blinked. “What the hell?”
His mouth moved, but I knew it wasn’t just him speaking.
“We are one,” Zehrin said. “Lycān. Whole. Awake.”
“You… you can talk through him?”
“Lycāns do not need to shift to speak as one.”
I stepped back slightly. “Okay, that’s terrifying.”
Then—Nyra pushed forward.
Hard.
Her voice didn’t whisper this time. It roared.
“Shift.”
I staggered. “I’ve never done it.”
“You will now.”
My body moved on instinct—bones creaking, skin tingling, power flaring hot under my skin.
And then—
It happened.
The change wasn’t like I imagined.
It wasn’t pain.
It was power.
Golden light burst from my spine as my bones cracked, reshaped, grew. My skin thickened. Claws split through fingers. My vision sharpened.
When it ended, I stood taller than any wolf I’d ever seen.
But not taller than him.
Varek had shifted too—into something massive. His Lycān form was sleek muscle and black fur, silver eyes glowing like twin moons. Ten feet tall, monstrous and majestic.
And beside him—I was smaller, but not weak.
Golden white fur shimmered under the gray sky, and I could feel it in my bones.
I was like him.
Part Lycān.
His head dipped.
Zehrin’s voice filled my mind. “You are no longer hidden. The old blood sings in you.”
Nyra answered with a howl that shook the trees.
We turned to the threshold.
It pulsed as we approached, magic lashing out like static.
Then—everything went black.
The pain hit next.
Like fire under my skin.
My body jerked, buckled, screamed.
And then—
We landed.
The world was darker.
Twisted.
Wrong.
But alive.
Tall, black trees arched over a cobbled path. The sky was darker than any night I’d seen, though no stars showed.
The Veiled Dominion.
Varek shifted back first.
I followed, barely keeping upright.
“I think I’m gonna puke,” I muttered.
“Don’t,” he said flatly. “The stench lingers.”
I glared at him.
And that’s when he showed up.
A figure dropped from a branch above us—barefoot, hooded, grinning.
“Welcome home, Alpha.”
I jumped.
Varek didn’t flinch.
“Kai,” he said.
The hood dropped.
The man beneath it was tall, lean, and almost painfully attractive. Tousled black hair. Smirking mouth. Mischief in every move.
“Beta,” Varek said, gesturing at me. “Elizabeth.”
Kai swept into an exaggerated bow. “My, my. The prophecy is hot.”
I blinked. “Wait, what?”
Varek growled low. “Enough.”
Kai straightened. “She’s not what I expected.”
“I get that a lot,” I muttered.
Kai smirked. “We’re needed. Now.”
We followed him.
Down long, winding corridors built into stone. Everything here was darker. Older. Gothic, almost. Like a mansion swallowed by shadows.
Then we entered the main wing—high ceilings, black velvet, gold chandeliers.
And finally—
The Alpha’s chamber.
Varek stopped at the door.
“He won’t like this,” he muttered.
“Too bad,” I said. “We’re already here.”
He pushed the door open.
Inside, a man stood facing the hearth, tall and still.
His aura hit like a hammer.
Varek stepped forward. “You summoned me.”
The man turned.
And the world tilted.
He was older, crueler. Same silver eyes. Same bone structure. But carved sharper. Harsher. Worn by centuries.
His eyes landed on me—and something cracked.
“Christine,” he whispered.
I blinked.
“No,” I said. “That was my mother.”
He stepped closer.
And the fire behind him roared higher.
“Impossible,” he said, voice trembling with something I didn’t understand.
But Varek did.
His eyes narrowed.
And everything I thought I knew—shifted.
Just like the world I had stepped into.
- Writer
