Bloodbound

Rhea

That night, I curled up in my parents’ bed.

It had been vacant for two years, untouched and forbidden, yet it still smelled like them—my mother’s lavender oil, my father’s worn leather and pine. The scent wrapped around me like a memory I wasn’t ready to let go of. For a moment, I let myself pretend they were only gone on patrol, that they would return before morning and scold me for stealing their blankets.

Warriors were stationed on every floor of the packhouse. I knew I was safe. I knew Darius was gone.

Still, I slept with a knife tucked beneath my pillow.

Old habits didn’t die easily—not after cages and chains, not after learning that safety could be ripped away in a heartbeat. But I wouldn’t feel helpless much longer. That promise pulsed through me, steady and sure.

Tomorrow, my wolf would come.

I thought of her as I stared at the ceiling, imagined her strength, her voice, her presence finally filling the hollow place inside my chest. The moonlight spilled through the window, silver and warm, brushing against my skin like a blessing. It didn’t take long before exhaustion claimed me, dragging me into a deep, dreamless sleep.

When I woke, I felt weightless.

Like I was floating on a cloud, my body wrapped in warmth so gentle it almost made me cry. The bed beneath me was impossibly soft—luxury compared to the thin cot in the closet where I’d spent so many nights curled into myself, trying not to exist.

Then I heard it.

A soft hum.

My breath caught as recognition hit me all at once. It was my favorite lullaby—the one my mother used to sing when the storms were too loud and I was too afraid to sleep. My chest tightened, tears burning behind my eyes.

“Oh, darling… you’re awake.”

The voice was warm and melodic, threaded with power and affection that settled deep into my bones.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long,” she continued, her tone bright with emotion. “It’s me. Your wolf. Rhea.”

“Oh, Rhea…” My voice broke as I was sitting up in bed hugging a pillow. Not able to see Rhea only hear her “I’ve been waiting for you for so long.”

She laughed softly, the sound like wind through tall grass. “It’s okay, baby girl. I’ve been with you this whole time. Every step. Every nightmare. Every fight you didn’t think you’d survive.”

I felt her then—truly felt her—strong and steady at my back, a presence that made me feel taller, braver, whole.

“I am so proud of you,” Rhea said gently. “Of your strength. Of your bravery. It’s my turn now to help carry us. To keep us strong.”

I wiped at my cheeks, my heart pounding. “The Moon Goddess… she spoke to you?”

“She did,” Rhea confirmed. “She told me you’re special.”

A nervous laugh escaped me. “How am I special?”

“She didn’t reveal our full path,” Rhea admitted, “but I don’t need prophecy to know the truth. You are kind when the world tried to make you cruel. You care for your people when it would’ve been easier to harden your heart. You risked your life again and again—not for power, but for freedom.”

Her voice softened. “I know your thoughts, Chloe. I know your fears. I know how lonely it’s been.”

My chest ached, raw and open.

“We will have our revenge,” Rhea promised, steel threading her warmth. “But first, you heal. We heal.”

The dreamlike feeling was such a welcomed sensation.

“Go,” she murmured. “Hop in the shower. Feel the water. Ground yourself. We can talk more soon.”

I felt her press a kiss to my soul.

“Happy birthday, beautiful girl.”

I gasped as I woke, sitting upright in my parents’ bed, moonlight still clinging to my skin. My body hummed with new energy—power coiled beneath my ribs, alive and awake.

For the first time in years, I wasn’t alone.

And for the first time… I wasn’t broken.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, my hands trembling as they pressed into the familiar quilt. Power still hummed beneath my skin, a quiet vibration that hadn’t been there before—like my blood had learned a new song overnight.

Easy, Rhea murmured gently. Breathe with me.

I drew in a slow breath, then another. The air felt different in my lungs. Fuller. Sharper.

“You’re still here,” I whispered, half afraid she’d vanish if I said it aloud.

Always, she replied without hesitation. I’m not going anywhere, Chloe. Not now. Not ever.

I stood and padded barefoot toward the bathroom, the marble floor cool beneath my feet. Every sound felt amplified—the soft click of the door, the rush of pipes as I turned on the shower, the steady rhythm of my own heartbeat.

You feel everything more strongly now, Rhea explained. Your senses are waking up. Don’t fight it.

“I’m not scared,” I said quietly, though my voice shook. “Just… overwhelmed.”

That’s allowed, she said kindly. You’ve survived things that would’ve broken others. This is your body finally realizing it doesn’t have to be on guard anymore.

Steam filled the room as I stepped under the spray. The hot water poured over my shoulders, and I let out a shaky breath as tension I hadn’t realized I was carrying began to loosen.

I braced my hands against the tile as a soft ache bloomed deep in my chest—not pain, not exactly. More like stretching muscles that had never been used.

“What’s happening to me?” I asked.

We’re aligning, Rhea answered. Mind, body, soul. You’ve lived disconnected for so long—surviving instead of existing. This is the first step toward becoming whole.

I closed my eyes, letting the water soak my hair, trail down my spine. For the first time, I could feel her fully—not just as a voice, but as a presence curled warmly around my heart.

“Will it hurt?” I asked. “The shift… when it comes?”

Rhea didn’t lie to me. Yes. But not like before. Not like the pain you were forced to endure. This pain has purpose. And I’ll be right there with you.

That thought steadied me more than anything else could have.

I reached for the soap, breathing in the clean, herbal scent as it lathered over my skin, washing away the grime of captivity, the phantom weight of chains that still clung to my memory.

You don’t belong to cages, Rhea said firmly, as if sensing my thoughts. You never did.

Tears mixed with the water on my cheeks. “I still feel… dirty. Like no matter how much I scrub, I can’t wash it away.”

Her voice softened, fierce and tender all at once. That shame was never yours to carry. What was done to you does not define you. You are not broken. You are not tainted.

I swallowed hard, nodding as if she could see me.

Lift your chin, she urged. That’s it. You’re still standing. Still fighting.

When I stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around myself, my reflection caught me off guard. My eyes looked brighter—more alive. There was a steadiness there that hadn’t existed before.

“That’s you,” I whispered.

That’s us, Rhea corrected warmly.

As I dressed, pulling on clean clothes that actually fit, strength settled into my limbs like it had always belonged there. The weight in my chest eased, replaced by something solid and unshakable.

Today changes everything, Rhea said. Not because the world is suddenly kind—but because you are no longer facing it alone.

I straightened my shoulders, lifting my head.

“Then let’s face it,” I said.

Rhea’s presence flared with pride. That’s my girl.

And for the first time since the night my world burned, I believed—with absolute certainty—that I was going to survive what came next.