ASHES IN HER VEINS
941 Words
Wren sat stiffly in the Alpha’s study, the warning letter spread across the desk like a curse. Its parchment smelled faintly of smoke, like it had been burned and saved at the last moment.
“Who uses the old Flame Crest anymore?” Elias muttered, his brows furrowed as he paced. “That’s from the Shadowclaw archives. They were disbanded over ten years ago.”
“Not all of them,” Caden said quietly, voice like stone grinding. “Some splintered into factions. Rumors say they deal in forbidden magic, secrets, and mercenaries now.”
“And apparently threats,” Elias added, shooting a glance at Wren.
She sat in the corner, clutching her hands in her lap, fighting the wave of heat rising in her chest. She hated how the sight of the crest pulled something cold and familiar from her mind, like she had once feared it.
“I need to know who I am,” she said aloud, surprising herself.
Both men turned toward her.
“Soon,” Caden promised. “We’ll bring in Elder Aldric. He’s the only seer left with memory-root skills. If anyone can unlock your past…”
“But what if I don’t like what I see?” she interrupted. “What if I was someone terrible? Someone not worth saving?”
Caden’s gaze didn’t waver. “Then we save you anyway.”
Later that evening, Wren walked the empty halls of the west wing. It was quiet there. Too quiet. The paintings on the wall felt like they were watching her, and the soft creak of the floorboards under her feet made her spine crawl.
She found herself drawn to the old Luna quarters. They had been sealed since Seraphina’s death.
Except tonight, the door was ajar. She hesitated before pushing it open. The room smelled of lilac and ashes. The bed was still made. A journal sat on the vanity. The air felt sacred, untouched, and yet… something called to her.
Her fingers drifted to the side table drawer. She opened it. Inside was a locket.
Her breath caught. She picked it up and opened it slowly. Inside were two tiny portraits. One of Caden. The other… of her.
The girl in the locket had her face. Her eyes. Her soft smile. But she looked certain of who she was. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. That was me… wasn’t it?
A soft rustle came from behind her. She spun.
Maren stood in the doorway.
“I thought I’d find you here.”
Wren wiped her tears quickly. “This was her room, wasn’t it?”
Maren nodded slowly. “You used to braid my hair in front of that mirror. You don’t remember?”
“I… no.”
“Your soul remembers,” Maren said gently. “Even if your mind doesn’t. That’s why you’re drawn here.”
Wren looked back at the bed, the locket still in her palm. “I’m scared. I don’t know who to trust. I don’t know what’s true.”
Maren’s voice was firm. “Start with this. You are not weak. You survived when everyone else thought you were gone. That takes strength the Council will never understand.”
Later, in the packhouse dining hall, tensions rippled through the air like static. Gamma Theo had returned from patrol and whispered something into Caden’s ear that made the Alpha’s expression darken.
“What’s wrong?” Wren asked as he approached her table.
“We’ve found traces of Shadowclaw movement near the southern ridge. We’ve tightened patrols.”
Wren’s heart pounded. “You think they’re after me?”
“They want silence,” Caden replied grimly. “And your memory is the loudest threat they’ve faced in years.”
Wren stood. “Then let’s be louder.”
His brow arched slightly.
“I won’t run anymore,” she said. “If they want me quiet, they’ll have to fight for it.”
For the first time since her return, Caden smiled, not with amusement, but with pride.
“You sound like a Luna.”
That night, Wren didn’t sleep.
She returned to the Luna’s quarters and stared at the moonlight spilling through the windows, casting silver on the old rugs. She opened the journal left on the vanity. The pages were fragile, the ink faded.
But the writing, it was hers.
“They think I don’t see the fear in their eyes. They think I don’t hear the whispers in the Council Hall. But I do. They want me gone. They want someone more obedient. But I wasn’t born to be silent.”
She read the words over and over until her hands trembled. She had been Luna. She had been bold. She had been hated by those who feared her voice. And someone had burned her for it.
She closed the book and turned toward the door, just as it creaked open.
“Wren?” It was Elias.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Gamma Theo found something… something urgent. You need to come now.”
She followed without question, pulse rising.
They led her through the training yard and down toward the base of the cliffs, where the northern river passed. Torches flickered. Warriors stood in a semicircle.
At the center lay a body. A dead warrior, one from Silverfang. Pinned to his chest was another note.
Wren’s breath caught as Caden read it aloud:
“You failed to kill her once. Now you all pay. The real Luna dies before the next full moon.”
Caden’s jaw tightened. “They know.”
Wren’s vision swam.
Someone had just declared war.
- Writer
