Chapter Six
1691 Words
— Dani
The room feels too still after Alaric leaves.
Alana sits beside me, her hand wrapped around mine, but my skin feels wrong — too warm, too cold, too thin. Like one wrong emotion could pull me out of existence again.
I keep staring at my hands, terrified they’ll flicker.
“Dani,” Alana whispers, “you’re shaking.”
“I know.” My voice is barely there. “I don’t know how to stop.”
She squeezes my hand. “Dad said it wasn’t your fault.”
“It doesn’t feel like that.”
A soft knock at the front door makes both of us jump.
Alana’s breath catches. “That must be Dr. Hale.”
My stomach twists. Dr. Hale has known me since I was a kid. She’s always been calm, steady, unshakeable. But she’s also the pack’s historian — the one who knows the old stories, the old bloodlines.
If anyone can see through me, it’s her.
Footsteps approach. Slow. Controlled. Familiar.
Alaric appears first, filling the doorway with his presence. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes… his eyes are too sharp. Too focused. Too aware of me.
Behind him stands Dr. Hale — tall, silver‑haired, her presence warm but commanding.
“Dani,” she says softly, “may I come in?”
I nod.
She steps inside and closes the door. Alaric stays near the frame, arms crossed, posture tight — not angry, but bracing.
Dr. Hale studies me for a long moment.
“You phased,” she says gently. “Fully.”
I swallow. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Of course you didn’t.” She kneels in front of me. “Phasing is triggered by emotion. Not fear alone — emotion. Strong, overwhelming emotion.”
Alana glances at me. “She was overwhelmed.”
“No,” Dr. Hale corrects softly. “She was emotionally overloaded.”
Her eyes flick to Alaric.
“And she wasn’t the only one.”
Heat rushes to my face. Alaric’s jaw tightens.
Dr. Hale continues, “The Lunar Veil responds to emotional intensity. Your own… and others’. When two strong emotional signatures collide, the Veil reacts.”
I whisper, “So I disappeared because… I felt too much?”
“And because someone else did too,” she says gently.
Alaric looks away.
My chest tightens.
Dr. Hale places her hands lightly on mine. “Dani, your power didn’t activate because you were scared. It activated because your emotions spiked beyond what your body could contain.”
“And mine amplified hers,” Alaric says quietly.
The admission hangs in the air like smoke.
Dr. Hale nods. “Exactly.”
Alana stiffens beside me, but she doesn’t speak.
Dr. Hale’s voice softens. “The Lunar Veil is rare. Very rare. Most wolves go their entire lives without seeing it.”
I swallow. “So I’m… Lunar‑Veiled?”
“Possibly,” she says carefully. “You definitely carry the signature. But I need to run tests before I can say anything with certainty.”
Tests.
My stomach flips.
Alaric steps forward. “What kind of tests?”
“Energetic,” she says. “Noninvasive. I need to see how Dani’s aura responds to stimuli. How stable she is. How reactive.”
Reactive.
The word makes my skin crawl.
Dr. Hale squeezes my hands gently. “Dani, your phasing was strong. Stronger than I expected. But that doesn’t mean anything bad. It just means we need to understand it.”
I nod, though my throat is tight.
Alaric clears his throat. “Hale will stay with us for the next few days. Until we know more.”
Alana looks relieved. I feel like I’m sinking.
Dr. Hale stands. “I’ll set up in the living room. Dani, when you’re ready, I’d like to begin with a simple grounding test.”
Grounding.
Control.
Stability.
All things I don’t feel.
She leaves the room to prepare.
Alaric lingers in the doorway, eyes on me — not with fear, not with judgment, but with something heavier. Something he’s trying not to show.
“Dani,” he says quietly, “you’re not alone in this.”
Then he turns and follows Dr. Hale.
The door closes softly behind him.
Alana exhales. “Dani… this is big.”
I nod, staring at my hands.
Big doesn’t even begin to cover it.
---
The moment Dr. Hale steps out to prepare whatever “grounding test” she has planned, Alaric lingers in the doorway. His eyes stay on me longer than they should — too intense, too knowing — before he finally forces himself to look away.
“Take a moment,” he says quietly. “Both of you.”
It’s not an order.
It’s permission.
Then he closes the door behind him, leaving me and Alana alone in the soft, suffocating quiet.
Alana squeezes my hand once more before she stands. “I’ll give you space. Just… call if you need me, okay?”
I nod, though I’m not sure I could speak even if I tried.
She hesitates — torn between staying and respecting the moment — then slips out of the room, pulling the door shut behind her.
And suddenly, I’m alone.
Really alone.
The silence presses in on me, thick and heavy. My heartbeat is loud in my ears, too fast, too uneven. My hands won’t stop trembling. My skin feels wrong, like it’s buzzing from the inside out.
I pull my knees to my chest and bury my face in them.
I don’t cry.
I can’t.
The fear is too sharp for tears.
I disappeared.
I actually disappeared.
Not metaphorically.
Not emotionally.
Literally.
One moment I was standing there, drowning in my own emotions and Alaric’s, and the next… I wasn’t. I slipped out of the world like I’d never been there at all.
My breath stutters.
What if it happens again?
What if I can’t stop it next time?
What if I fade and don’t come back?
A shiver runs through me so violently I have to grip the blanket to steady myself.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to breathe, trying to ground myself the way Alaric told me to — slow, steady, controlled — but every inhale feels like it might pull me out of my body again.
I don’t know how to be calm.
Not right now.
Not after everything.
I press my palms to my eyes, willing the world to stop spinning.
I’ve always felt invisible.
Always felt like people looked past me, through me, around me.
But this…
this is something else entirely.
This is real invisibility.
Real danger.
Real power.
And I don’t know how to live with that.
A soft creak sounds outside the door — footsteps, low voices, the murmur of Dr. Hale and Alaric discussing something in hushed tones — but I can’t make out the words.
I don’t try.
I just sit there, curled in on myself, trying to hold onto the pieces of me that feel like they’re slipping.
Trying to stay solid.
Trying to stay here.
Trying to stay me.
Because for the first time in my life, I’m terrified that if I let myself feel too much…
I might disappear again.
---
The moment Dr. Hale steps out to prepare whatever “grounding test” she has planned, Alaric lingers in the doorway. His eyes stay on me longer than they should — too intense, too knowing — before he finally forces himself to look away.
“Take a moment,” he says quietly. “Both of you.”
It’s not an order.
It’s permission.
Then he closes the door behind him, leaving me and Alana alone in the soft, suffocating quiet.
Alana squeezes my hand once more before she stands. “I’ll give you space. Just… call if you need me, okay?”
I nod, though I’m not sure I could speak even if I tried.
She hesitates — torn between staying and respecting the moment — then slips out of the room, pulling the door shut behind her.
And suddenly, I’m alone.
Really alone.
The silence presses in on me, thick and heavy. My heartbeat is loud in my ears, too fast, too uneven. My hands won’t stop trembling. My skin feels wrong, like it’s buzzing from the inside out.
I pull my knees to my chest and bury my face in them.
I don’t cry.
I can’t.
The fear is too sharp for tears.
I disappeared.
I actually disappeared.
Not metaphorically.
Not emotionally.
Literally.
One moment I was standing there, drowning in my own emotions and Alaric’s, and the next… I wasn’t. I slipped out of the world like I’d never been there at all.
My breath stutters.
What if it happens again?
What if I can’t stop it next time?
What if I fade and don’t come back?
A shiver runs through me so violently I have to grip the blanket to steady myself.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to breathe, trying to ground myself the way Alaric told me to — slow, steady, controlled — but every inhale feels like it might pull me out of my body again.
I don’t know how to be calm.
Not right now.
Not after everything.
I press my palms to my eyes, willing the world to stop spinning.
I’ve always felt invisible.
Always felt like people looked past me, through me, around me.
But this…
this is something else entirely.
This is real invisibility.
Real danger.
Real power.
And I don’t know how to live with that.
A soft creak sounds outside the door — footsteps, low voices, the murmur of Dr. Hale and Alaric discussing something in hushed tones — but I can’t make out the words.
I don’t try.
I just sit there, curled in on myself, trying to hold onto the pieces of me that feel like they’re slipping.
Trying to stay solid.
Trying to stay here.
Trying to stay me.
Because for the first time in my life, I’m terrified that if I let myself feel too much…
I might disappear again.
---
- Writer
