GHOST IN THE INFIRMARY
1014 Words
The infirmary smelled of pine salve and bitter root. Wren sat on the edge of a cot, her legs dangling, while a young woman in healer’s robes wrapped a linen bandage around her arm.
“You’re lucky,” the healer said without looking up. “Most rogues don’t make it past the border.”
“I’m not a rogue,” Wren replied softly.
The healer glanced up. “Then who are you?”
Wren looked away.
That was the question, wasn’t it?
The girl in her dreams, burning, running, crying, that wasn’t Wren. That was someone stronger. Someone who had something to lose.
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
The healer frowned but didn’t press. “Well, I’m Healer Maren’s niece, Marlow. I was surprised when they told me she’d raised you in the borderlands. I thought she’d vanished.”
“She saved me,” Wren said, her voice tightening. “She gave me everything I have.”
The door creaked open before Marlow could respond.
In stepped a man with broad shoulders, golden-brown skin, and eyes with the color of rain-dark soil. He held himself with the alert stillness of a soldier.
“Alpha wants a word,” he said, eyes scanning Wren like a puzzle he’d seen before.
Marlow scowled. “She just got here. She’s not even fully checked”
“It wasn’t a request.”
Wren stood on wobbly legs and followed.
The hallways of the Silverfang packhouse echoed with half-forgotten memories. Wren walked in silence, heart pounding as fragments flickered, shadows of a hallway, a painting on the wall, laughter in the distance. Her escort said nothing until they reached a massive oak door.
He knocked once. “Alpha.”
“Bring her in,” came the response.
Inside, the Alpha’s office was a blend of power and order. A map of the territory sprawled across the far wall. A fire crackled quietly in the hearth. Alpha Caden stood by the window, one hand braced against the glass as if the weight of the world pressed against his spine.
He turned as they entered.
“You can wait outside, Elias.”
The warrior, Elias, nodded once, then left. The door clicked shut. For a long moment, it was just silence.
Then Caden spoke. “You don’t remember anything?”
Wren nodded. “Only... dreams. Fire. Running. Pain. But faces? Names? Nothing.”
Caden walked slowly toward her, eyes sharp but not unkind. “Do you know who I am?”
“You’re the Alpha of this pack.”
His lips twitched. “That’s what they call me. But two years ago... I was a mate. To a woman named Seraphina.”
The name rang like a bell in her chest.
“She was strong. Brave. A fierce Luna. And she died... horribly.”
Wren looked down. “I’m sorry.”
He nodded once. “So am I.”
She couldn’t stop the question that left her lips. “Was she like me?”
Caden studied her. “You could be her twin.”
A tremble started in her hands. “Is that why you brought me here? You think I’m her?”
“I don’t know what to think,” he said quietly. “But when I saw you, something shifted. My wolf hasn’t stirred in months. But the moment you walked in, he snapped awake.”
Wren didn’t answer. She couldn’t. She didn’t know if it scared her or comforted her.
“I’m not her,” she said finally. “I can’t be.”
“Maybe not,” he agreed. “But I intend to find out.”
The next few days were a blur of watchful glances and hushed whispers. Wren was allowed to walk the courtyard, escorted by Elias or one of the warriors. She helped Marlow in the infirmary to feel useful, though every face she passed looked at her like an echo.
They called her Wren. But some whispered another name when they thought she couldn’t hear.
Seraphina.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror once, long black hair falling past her shoulders, amber eyes like candlelight, soft lips set in a constant state of uncertainty. She didn’t know if she was beautiful. But the face in the mirror seemed haunted.
Like it had seen death and come back with a secret.
On the fifth night, she woke with a gasp.
This time, she saw it clearly. The fire. The screams. The hand that pushed the oil lamp. She wasn’t running from flames. She’d been left to die in them. The dream clung to her as she wandered the halls sleepless. She didn’t know where she was going until she stood in front of the door again.
Caden’s.
She should’ve turned away. But the door opened. He stood there in a dark shirt and pants, hair mussed, eyes heavy from sleep.
“You felt it too,” he said. Not a question.
Wren didn’t speak. She stepped past him into the room. Stared at the painting above his fireplace.
A woman. Black hair. Amber eyes. Luna regalia.
It was her.
She walked closer. “That’s her.”
“That’s you,” he said.
Wren turned. “I dreamed it again. The fire. The smoke. But this time... I saw someone.”
Caden stepped forward. “Who?”
“I don’t know. But someone wanted her dead.”
The Alpha’s face turned to stone. For a moment, they stood inches apart. Something magnetic burned between them, familiar, but terrifying.
Wren whispered, “What if I am her?”
Caden exhaled sharply. “Then I failed you once. I won’t do it again.”
Before she could speak, a knock shattered the moment.
“Alpha!” Elias called from the hallway, urgency in his voice. “There’s a situation.”
Caden opened the door. “What is it?”
“A rogue was captured near the northern line. He asked for Seraphina... by name.”
Wren froze.
Caden turned back to her.
The name was no longer a whisper.
It was a reckoning.
- Writer
