Chapter 4 Memories of the Past Life
1326 Words
The sun hung low outside the window long before Skylinda realized it. She had fallen asleep, worn down by the exhaustion in her body and the weight of the worries clouding her mind.
But even in sleep, peace did not come easily.
In the dream world, her burdens followed.
Skylinda stirred in the bed, her eyebrows scrunched in distress, her head snapping side to side as if trapped in a nightmare she couldn’t escape.
Everything was dark.
She knew it was a dream—but it felt too real.
The moon hung high in the sky, casting a pale glow over a battlefield soaked in blood. Thousands of wolves clashed in chaos, fighting to the death against their enemies.
Skylinda stood among older Alphas, facing a lone figure across the field. He wore a crimson robe, his face shadowed, and held a single sword that gleamed with a hunger for blood.
She looked down.
The sword in her own hand shimmered—eerily similar to his.
She tried to speak, wanting to say something in her dream, but the crimson-robed Alpha didn’t give her the chance.
He moved first.
Fast.
Ruthless.
Skylinda and her group could do nothing but dodge his attacks. He was stronger than all of them combined, a force of darkness to be reckoned with.
Then, with a single raise of his hand, hundreds of shadows erupted from the ground—twisting, writhing, forming a cage around them.
The walls of shadow closed in, growing tighter with every breath.
Yet Skylinda stood her ground, refusing to bow down. Her blade sliced through the shadows, her movements fierce yet fluid, sharp and light as wind.
No amount of attack could halt her advance.
Blow after blow, she pressed forward, until the surrounding chaos seemed to blur and fade.
The two were pushed back to the center of the battlefield, and there, amidst the c*****e, Skylinda faced the Duskborn Alpha alone.
But instead of fear, her heart felt heavy—like something inside her was breaking. Her grip tightened around the sword, and she stared at the figure before her.
“…When you fall, the world will not mourn you. No one will remember you, because you’ve left nothing behind worth remembering,” she said, her voice steady in the dream.
The Duskborn Alpha only smiled.
His lips moved, forming words she couldn’t hear. No sound reached her ears—only silence, thick and haunting.
Around them, the battle raged louder.
Sword clashes rang like thunder, mingling with the cries of the dying and the sickening crunch of broken bones.
Skylinda’s mouth moved again, her voice firm.
“…I will never be like you.”
The world spun.
Suddenly, she gripped her sword tightly, her breath caught in her throat. Her face froze as her eyes traced the blood dripping down the blade—warm, fresh, and real.
Slowly, she looked up.
And she saw…
“Ah!”
Skylinda’s eyes flew open as she sat up abruptly, breath hitching in her throat.
Her body trembled, and she instinctively hugged her arms close, as if the simple gesture could warm up the icy weight pressing against her chest.
Sweat clung to her brow, and tears fell silently—one by one—from the corners of her eyes.
All from a dream.
A scene from long ago.
One she could barely remember, yet it gripped her like a memory etched into bone, as if something even her soul couldn’t forget.
“What was that…?”
She reached up slowly, her fingertips brushing the wetness on her cheeks. Her voice was barely a whisper.
“Why am I crying?”
Her gaze dropped to her palms, damp with tears she hadn’t realized she’d shed. Her chest tightened.
“Who was he? No… he was the Duskborn Alpha. The enemy of the alliance. But… why does my heartache?”
She frowned, confusion and unease swirling behind her eyes.
The dream had felt too real.
Too familiar.
And the pain—deep, quiet, and lingering—wasn’t just from fear.
“I need to clear my mind,” she murmured. “My memory’s been foggy ever since I came back to life. There’s something unusual about all of this… about my return, and even my past.”
She stared into the dim light of the room, her heart still racing.
“I feel like something is wrong.”
Skylinda’s eyebrows scrunched as she frowned, trying to gather her thoughts, hoping to make sense of the dream and the ache in her chest.
Something wasn’t right.
She could feel it—deep, tangled in memory and instinct.
But before she could think deeper, the door to her room swung open.
“LinLin, you ungrateful child! Why are you only back now and why are you—wait… are you crying?”
Zarek froze in the doorway, his voice cutting off as his eyes locked onto her tear-streaked face. His expression shifted instantly—from confusion to rage.
“Did that little s**t bully you again?”
He crossed the room in three quick strides, arriving at her bedside in a breath.
His face was flushed with fury, fists clenched at his sides. Seeing his stubborn little sister crying alone like this—like some loser—made something snap inside him.
No.
Skylinda wasn’t a loser.
She was the prettiest, fiercest princess in the entire pack.
His sister.
His pride.
“What did that asshole do again, huh?! Did he defend that little s**t again? Or did he say something that made you cry? Or was it another fight because of that ugly Omega?”
Zarek’s words flew out like firecrackers—sharp, fast, relentless. Insults spilled from his mouth, each one louder than the last like he couldn’t wait to curse people to their deaths.
“I have told you already, that shithead is no good for you! Why do you keep insisting on mating with that bastard? You can reject him, LinLin. You can try again. You can find a better wolf than him. f**k mate bonds!”
He paced, grumbling and cursing under his breath, his anger barely contained.
But beneath the fury was something else—worry. Fear. The helplessness of a brother watching his sister break and not knowing how to stop it.
Though he spoke with fire, Zarek knew better.
Mate bonds weren’t easily broken—not like he claimed.
The backlash was brutal, the pain deep.
But none of that mattered to him right now. Not when his little sister was crying because of some bastard who couldn’t cherish her.
“Brother…”
Skylinda’s voice was soft, uncertain.
She looked helpless, unsure how to handle this kind of care—this fierce, familial love that felt so new to her.
She opened her mouth to speak, but Zarek cut her off.
“Just tell me,”
Zarek’s eyes were blazing, an extinguishable fire behind his eyes.
“I’ll do anything for our little princess. I’ll kill that bastard, just you see. I’ll beat him up!”
He cracked his knuckles and turned, already halfway to the door, ready to make good on his promise.
But Skylinda reached out and grabbed him by the back of his scruff, dragging him back with surprising strength.
“W-What are you doing?”
Zarek sputtered, struggling like a goldfish out of water.
Skylinda sighed, her voice weary but firm.
“There’s no need,” she said quietly. “He and I… our mate bond is already broken.”
Zarek froze.
The room fell silent.
His fists lowered slowly, and he turned to look at her—really look at her.
There was no rage in her eyes.
Just pain.
And something else.
Acceptance.
Zarek didn’t speak.
He didn’t need to.
Because at that moment, he understood: the wound wasn’t fresh. It had been bleeding for a long time.
And this time, everything just came to a halt.
- Writer
