Chapter Five
1590 Words
— Alaric
Dani disappears.
Not metaphorically.
Not emotionally.
Literally.
One moment she’s standing in front of me, trembling, eyes wide with fear — and the next, her body blurs like smoke caught in moonlight and slips out of sight.
My heart stops.
“Dani!” I lunge forward, reaching for her, but my hand cuts through empty air. “Dani, look at me!”
Nothing.
Just a faint shimmer where she should be.
My pulse slams against my ribs. I’ve seen a lot in my lifetime — rogue wolves, blood feuds, ancient rituals — but this? This is something out of legend.
“Dad?”
Alana’s voice is small, terrified. She stands in the hallway, staring at the space where Dani vanished.
“Where is she?” she whispers.
I can’t answer. My mind is racing too fast.
Phasing.
Lunar Veil.
An ability so old most wolves think it’s myth.
But I’ve read the old texts.
I’ve studied the forgotten bloodlines.
I know exactly what this is.
And I know how dangerous it can be.
“Dani,” I say, forcing my voice steady, “I know you can hear me.”
A faint ripple flickers in the air. She’s still here. Still conscious. Still terrified.
“Listen to me,” I continue, stepping closer. “You’re phasing. It’s an ancient ability — rare, powerful, and tied to emotion.”
Another ripple. A tremor. She’s panicking.
“Dani, breathe,” I command, letting my Alpha tone slip into my voice. Not to dominate — to anchor.
“I can’t!” Her voice is thin, distant, like it’s coming from behind a wall. “I don’t know how to come back!”
“You don’t force it,” I say softly. “You feel your way out.”
I close my eyes, reaching out with my senses. She’s there — a faint pulse of energy, flickering like a candle in a storm.
“Focus on me,” I murmur. “On my voice. On the sound of it. On the steadiness.”
Her energy spikes — fear, confusion, desperation.
“Good,” I whisper. “Now breathe with me.”
I inhale slowly.
Hold.
Exhale.
“Again.”
Her presence wavers, then steadies. The shimmer thickens, taking shape.
“That’s it,” I say, relief flooding my chest. “You’re doing it.”
Her outline sharpens.
Her hands appear first.
Then her arms.
Then her face.
She collapses to her knees as the last of the blur fades.
I drop beside her, hands hovering inches from her shoulders. I want to touch her. I want to pull her into my arms and swear she’s safe. But I don’t trust myself. Not with the bond clawing at me. Not with her power still unstable.
“Dani,” I breathe, “you’re Lunar‑Veiled.”
Her eyes widen. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” I say quietly, “you’re far more powerful than you realize.”
And far more dangerous.
To herself.
To the pack.
To me.
---
— Alana
I wait until Dad steps outside to call the pack doctor — something about “stabilizing energy” and “monitoring her aura,” whatever that means — before I slip into the small guest room where Dani sits curled on the bed.
She looks… fragile.
Shaken.
Like she’s afraid to move in case she disappears again.
“Dani?” I close the door behind me. “Can we talk?”
She lifts her head slowly. Her eyes are red, her hands trembling in her lap.
“Alana, I’m so sorry—”
“Don’t.” My voice cracks. “Don’t apologize. Just tell me what happened.”
She swallows hard. “I don’t know. I felt… overwhelmed. And then everything went blurry. And then I wasn’t… here.”
I sit beside her, leaving a small space between us.
“Dani,” I whisper, “I watched you vanish.”
She flinches.
“I didn’t mean to,” she says, voice breaking. “I didn’t even know I could.”
“That’s what scares me.” I wrap my arms around myself. “You didn’t know. Dad didn’t know. And you just… disappeared.”
Her breath hitches. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not mad,” I say quickly. “I’m scared.”
She looks up, eyes shining. “Me too.”
I take a shaky breath. “Dani… what are you?”
She closes her eyes.
“I don’t know,” she whispers. “But I think I’m about to find out.”
I reach for her hand — and this time, she doesn’t pull away.
Because whatever she is…
whatever she’s becoming…
she’s still my best friend.
And I’m not letting her face this alone.
---
I don’t know how long we sit there — Dani trembling beside me, me trying to pretend I’m not terrified out of my mind — before the front door opens again.
Dad’s footsteps are heavy, purposeful. He’s in Alpha mode. Not angry. Not cold. Just… controlled. Too controlled.
He stops in the doorway of the guest room, eyes flicking from me to Dani. Relief softens his shoulders when he sees her fully visible again, but it doesn’t erase the tension in his jaw.
“Are you both alright?” he asks.
I nod, even though I’m not sure it’s true. Dani doesn’t answer. She just stares at her hands like she’s afraid they’ll disappear again.
Dad steps inside and closes the door behind him. That alone makes my stomach twist. He never closes doors unless something serious is happening.
“Dani,” he says gently, “how do you feel?”
She swallows. “Like I’m going to throw up.”
He nods once. “That’s normal.”
Normal?
Nothing about this is normal.
I open my mouth to say it, but Dad lifts a hand — not to silence me, but to ask for patience. It’s the same gesture he uses with pack members when they’re scared.
He sits on the edge of the dresser, posture straight, voice steady.
“What you experienced,” he says, looking at Dani, “is called phasing. It’s part of an ancient ability known as the Lunar Veil.”
Dani’s breath catches. “Lunar… what?”
“Lunar‑Veiled wolves,” Dad explains, “were once considered the Moon Goddess’s hidden guardians. Wolves who could slip between perception and reality. They could blur themselves, vanish, create illusions, even heal. They were rare even in the old world.”
I blink. “Dad… that sounds like a myth.”
He meets my eyes. “Most myths start as truth.”
A chill runs down my spine.
Dani shakes her head, voice trembling. “But I’m not— I’m not anything special. I’m not a guardian. I’m not—”
“You are,” Dad says softly. “Whether you wanted to be or not.”
She looks like she might cry again.
He leans forward, elbows on his knees, tone shifting into something deeper — the voice he uses when he’s speaking as Alpha, not just my father.
“Dani, your power has been dormant for years. Probably since childhood. But something about this place — the altitude, the isolation, the moon cycle — triggered it.”
“And the shift,” I add quietly.
Dad nods. “Yes. The shift pushed it over the edge.”
Dani wraps her arms around herself. “I didn’t mean to disappear.”
“I know,” he says. “Phasing is instinctive at first. It responds to emotion. Fear. Overwhelm. Pressure. You didn’t choose it.”
She looks up at him, eyes wide and wet. “How do I stop it from happening again?”
“You learn control,” he says. “And you don’t do it alone.”
Something in his voice softens — something protective, something that makes my chest tighten in a way I don’t understand.
He clears his throat and stands.
“I’ve called Dr. Hale,” he says. “She’s on her way.”
My heart jumps. “The pack doctor?”
“Yes.” He looks between us. “She’s the only one with enough knowledge of ancient bloodlines to help Dani stabilize her power.”
Dani pales. “She’s coming here?”
“She’ll be here within the hour.”
Dani’s breathing quickens. “Alaric, I don’t want— I don’t want the whole pack to know about this.”
“They won’t,” he says firmly. “Only Hale. And only because she’s bound by oath.”
I glance at Dani. She looks small. Fragile. Like she’s trying to hold herself together with shaking hands.
Dad steps closer, lowering his voice.
“You’re safe,” he says. “Both of you.”
But the way he looks at Dani…
the way his eyes linger…
the way something unspoken flickers between them…
It makes my stomach twist again.
Not with fear this time.
With something I can’t name.
Dad straightens. “I’ll wait outside for Hale. You two stay here.”
He leaves the room, closing the door behind him.
The silence he leaves behind is thick.
Dani exhales shakily. “Alana… I’m scared.”
I take her hand again, squeezing it tight.
“Me too,” I admit. “But we’ll figure this out. Together.”
Even if I’m not sure what “this” is anymore.
Even if I’m not sure I want to know.
- Writer
