Wildborn

Somewhere We Belong

Bri wasn’t sure when the first tear fell. Maybe it was crossing the Mississippi in the late hours of the night, the bridge lights blurring through the windshield. Maybe it was somewhere the next morning in Kansas or Nebraska, with endless cornfields stretching into nothing and a quiet so deep it swallowed thoughts whole. Or maybe it was the Black Hills, ghosted in mist and memory, that finally broke her.

Wherever it began, the tears spilled silently. No sobbing. No shaking. No feeling. Just wet streaks down her cheeks that dried as fast as they fell, noticed by no one but herself.

The SUV was filled with a heavy quiet. Her mother kept one hand on the wheel, eyes fixed on the road ahead, jaw tight, refusing to let her own tears fall. Lena slept fitfully in the backseat, her face tucked into her stuffed bear. Her grandmother sat in the front seat, silent but far from asleep. Her eyes never stopped moving.

It wasn’t the first time they’d left everything behind.

Bri remembered the last time vividly. Lena had been less than a year old, and their father, her real father, not David, had come home bleeding; hunted. He had whispered the word Moonbound as a warning. She had been seven and he had died before sunrise.

Her mother had packed them up that morning, driven two days straight, and never looked back. The day they stopped in Hollow Pines, Grandma Riona found them. They had buried their past deep, locked away under layers of human routine: schools, basketball games, Sunday dinners. But none of it had ever erased the truth.

They were Wildborn.

The blood of Remus flowed in their veins.

Remus, who had walked not only with wolves, but with the whispering Folk.

Wildborn were different.

They were not merely werewolves. Their histories claimed something older. Truer. Descendants of Remus, yes, but also marked by the twilight pact he forged in secret. Unlike his brother Romulus, who raised cities and crowned himself beneath the Moon’s singular authority, Remus turned toward the wilderness, and toward the hidden courts rooted in earth and stone. Where Romulus chose structure, Remus chose spirit. Where one built empire, the other bound himself to earth-magic and older laws. That legacy lived on in the Wildborn.

Because they represented a line outside the strict inheritance of Romulus and Remus’s fractured crown. A power not fully governed by the Lunar Throne. A reminder that wolfkind had once drawn from deeper wells than empire and hierarchy.

They were hunted not just for what they could do, but for what their existence suggested:

That the throne was not the only source of power.

And never had been.

Wildborn didn’t build packs like other wolves. They gathered in clusters, often multi-generational family homes, Kindred, souls destined to find each other. No hierarchy. No Alpha by brute force. Their leaders weren’t chosen by dominance or title, but through spiritual resonance, through the howl that echoed not in the ears, but in the soul.

The Wildborn stood alone when they had to. They had been doing so for centuries.

Most lived in the wilderness, tucked into forgotten valleys and old-growth forests where humans, and the Moonbound, couldn’t find them. And some were rumored to have slipped even farther, crossing into the fading realm of the Folk themselves for refuge, though the Folk died out long ago, extinguished with the rise of humankind and iron.

But some, like Bri’s family, learned to exist in both known worlds, wolf and human. To hide in plain sight.

Joining a pack had always been a looming conversation. Her mother had told David and Grandma Riona she wanted to wait until the girls were older. Until it was safe. Until they knew who they really were after their shift.

Apparently, fate had decided for them.

"You’re quiet," came a voice inside her.

Bri leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes. Eira …, she answered silently.

Her wolf. Her other self. Not a separate being exactly, but a deeper voice, instinct and soul twined together.

I'm tired, Bri thought.

"You’re heartbroken," Eira replied.

Bri paused. I liked it there.

"So did I."

I saw a life. Alec a chosen mate. You liked him.

I did. Eira confirmed, and she didn’t press further. After a while, she said, You can’t keep pretending we’re something we’re not.

I know.

Your mother is running because she feels she has no choice. You run because you're afraid of what you'll become. Embracing what you are.

Maybe I am.

We are different Bri, and fate has teeth. You are Wildborn, and specifically a child of Remus, and you can’t outrun it forever.

Bri opened her eyes and stared at the road winding through the foothills. Maybe Eira was right. Maybe this was always where she was supposed to end up.

Just as the trees thickened with the promise of Bitterroot Valley, Grandma Riona finally spoke.

"You should know what we’re walking into," she said quietly. "The Umbral Dawn pack is not just any territory."

Her mother glanced over, nodding. Bri leaned forward slightly.

"Alpha Marcos leads them," Riona continued. "He is the Alpha of Alphas, chosen not by conquest, but by ancestral right. A direct male descendent of Romulus himself. He leads not only Umbral Dawn, but represents the council of the high packs of the Moonbound and sits on the Lunar Throne. His mate, Luna Isabella, is descended from the Seven Pillars of Luna, one of the families of who were chosen to come to the New World. Together they are... formidable."

"And their kids … " Bri's mom prompted.

"Two," Riona said. "Seraphina, their daughter, who is your age Brielle, and Kai. Their son and heir."

Bri nodded slowly. Names began to form stories in her mind.

Riona turned her gaze back to the trees. "Whatever you see there you need to remember, we may be hidden, but you belong. We don’t kneel. Not even to kings."

It was late on the second day of driving when they finally reached Bitterroot Valley.

The landscape exploded around them, lush forests so green they looked unreal, rivers glinting through groves of pine, wildflowers bursting in colors too bold to be random. The road narrowed, winding into the thick of wilderness untouched by pavement or cell towers.

Then the trees opened up, and they reached the boundary.

Three wolves in human form blocked the road ahead, lean and tense with power. Warriors. Their clothing was simple utility pants, boots, tunics dyed in moss and charcoal and their eyes tracked the vehicle without blinking.

Her grandmother stepped out first.

One of the warriors stepped forward, arms crossed. "State your business."

Riona smiled faintly. "Tell your Alpha that Lunaris Dualborn has returned."

The warrior flinched. Not visibly, not to anyone untrained. But Bri saw the micro expression flicker across his face.

He vanished into the trees. Minutes later, he reemerged, flanked by two more warriors. “Alpha Marcos requests you be escorted immediately."

They drove in silence, escorted through a land that seemed frozen in myth.

And then they saw it.

The pack city of Umbral Dawn.

It wasn’t quite a village, and it wasn’t quite a city. Quaint timber lodges lined cobblestone paths, interspersed with larger glass

buildings that gleamed under the canopy like dew. Traders bustled in a central square, where children ran barefoot and elders gathered in circles.

And at the center of it all stood the Pack House.

It wasn’t a house. It was a castle.

Built of black stone and golden-veined wood, its spires stretched into the clouds. Arched windows glowed and intricate carvings lined the doors and columns; lunar phases, wolves in motion, ancient glyphs. A moon-shaped crest marked the highest tower.

Three figures waited on the front steps.

The first was a tall man in his fifties, silver hair swept back, eyes sharp and piercing. He wore a long black coat, silver embroidery at the cuffs. This was Alpha Marcos, the Alpha of Alphas.

Beside him stood a graceful woman with midnight hair pinned in a crown braid. Luna Isabella wore a flowing, slate-blue gown that shimmered like moonlight on water. Her posture was regal, and her expression carried a composed serenity, yet there was a quiet warmth in her gaze.

And between them stood a girl around Bri’s age, radiant in a way that felt both grounded and quietly magical. Her dark curls, rich as roasted coffee, were loosely swept into a bun that defied order, with a few strands catching the light in a faint violet sheen. Her hazel eyes shimmered subtly, shifting color with every blink her moods revealing themselves in hints of amber warmth or cool lavender calm. Seraphina, their daughter.

As Bri stepped out, Alpha Marcos moved forward. He took her grandmother’s hands with reverence.

"Lunaris Dualborn," he said, voice thick with awe. "You’ve returned. I never thought I’d be the one to see the day."

Riona smiled, faint and cryptic. "Nor did I."

Marcos looked over the girls, his eyes softening. "You honor us by coming here. Please, know you are welcome. Whatever you need, it is yours."

He hesitated. "My son, Kai, is away for the summer. Training. But he will want to meet you when he returns at the end of next week."

Bri wasn’t sure why, but Eira lifted her head in the back of her mind.

Luna Isabella stepped forward with a graceful nod. "Come," she said, her voice smooth as flowing water. "Let me show you to your rooms. The East Wing has been prepared for your stay."

As they turned to follow, Seraphina lingered for a moment, her gaze settling on Bri with a quiet intensity. She stepped closer and offered her hand with a half-smile. "I know this is a lot," she said softly, "but you're not alone here. I hope we can be fast friends."

Bri hesitated for a beat before taking her hand, something easing in her chest. Maybe this place held more than safety. Maybe it held beginnings.

As they were led inside, Bri took one last glance back at the forest behind them.

The past was gone and the future was uncertain.

But for the first time in her life, she felt like she might be somewhere she belonged.

Somewhere the moonlight might sing her name.