In a world filled with all forms of creatures—wolves, witches, vampires, and humans alike—some at war, some bound by fragile alliances, the history tethering them long forgotten, fate begins to stir. It does not seek permission. It twists destinies, binding hearts or breaking them. In the shadows of old power, a new story prepares to rise—one of chaos or salvation.
It had been a week since Raven's mysterious disappearance and return, yet neither she nor John had breathed a word about what truly happened. Not to their parents, not to the Council, not even to each other—not properly. Whatever it was, it clung to her like a second skin. The nightmares hadn't stopped.
John climbed the staircase with silent purpose, his steps as graceful as ever. He reached her room and paused for a moment, catching sight of her through the open door. She sat curled up on the edge of her balcony, bathed in the soft rays of the afternoon sun. Her hair, the same silver-white as his—a rare mark even among wolves—danced gently in the breeze.
She looked... distant.
Moving closer, he noticed the sketches spread across her lap. Pages of them—figures in shadow, bruised and bloodied, some wolf, some man, all hauntingly vivid. The way her pencil dug into the paper betrayed more than just imagination. It was memory.
"What are you up to?" he asked softly, his voice so close it startled her.
Raven flinched, nearly smearing one of the drawings. She hadn't even heard him come in.
"John!" she exhaled, placing a hand over her chest. "Don't sneak up on me like that."
He gave a faint smirk. "Didn't mean to. I just... noticed you weren't at breakfast again."
She shrugged, clearly avoiding his gaze. "Wasn't hungry."
His eyes flicked to the sketches again. "And the drawings? Who are they?"
She hesitated, then turned the pages over, hiding them. "Just... something from a dream."
John didn't press. He knew better. Instead, he switched tactics.
"Come with me to the witches' coven. I have business with the High Priestess. You've been locked in here too long. A change of scenery might help."
She raised an eyebrow. "You're dragging me into coven affairs now?"
"Something like that," he said vaguely.
She studied his face for a moment, then stood and headed to her closet. "Give me ten minutes."
At the Witches' Coven...
The journey led them deep into the northern hills—far from the Lockwood estate and any sign of civilization. The witches' coven was hidden within the side of an ancient mountain, carved into the rock like nature itself had conspired to protect it.
Despite the eerie chill in the air, there was a strange elegance to the place. It was both raw and refined—thick with the scent of ancient herbs and incense, but laced with quiet traces of modernity. Crystals flickered with light as they passed, doors opened with whispered enchantments, and the walls murmured with runes older than language.
Raven followed John silently through the winding passageways. Her fingers grazed the cool stone walls as an inexplicable energy crawled up her spine. This place felt like... fate.
And fate, it seemed, was waiting for her.
Inside the Inner Chamber of the Coven...
They were led through a spiraling corridor that opened into a large circular chamber lit by floating flames, suspended midair like will-o'-the-wisps. Vines grew along the stone walls, and arcane symbols pulsed faintly beneath their feet.
At the center of it all stood her.
Tall. Ethereal. Power radiating from her very breath.
Her long black hair flowed down her back, streaked with silvery-white strands like lightning across a night sky. She wore a dark velvet robe adorned with runes that shimmered faintly with movement. Her eyes—an unnatural white, void of any pupil or color—pierced through them as if they could see far beyond the present.
"And to what do I owe the pleasure of the crowned prince gracing my chamber unannounced?" Her voice was calm, resonant, carrying a timbre that sent a chill down Raven's spine. It wasn't cruel—just impossibly ancient.
John offered a short bow, his tone respectful but easy. "Your Highness. Always a pleasure."
She tilted her head slightly, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "You bring company." Her eyes—blind, yet all-seeing—rested on Raven.
The young wolf stiffened, feeling inexplicably exposed.
"This is my sister, Raven Lockwood," John introduced.
"Ah." The witch queen moved slowly toward Raven, each step deliberate. "The child the stars tried to hide."
Raven blinked. "What?"
But the queen had already turned, motioning for them to follow her toward the stone platform in the center of the room. A large obsidian bowl rested atop it, filled with a glowing liquid that shimmered with shifting hues.
"We'll get to why you're here, Prince. But first..." she looked over her shoulder at Raven, smiling with a knowlingly look she could feel the difference.
The queen's fingers grazed the rim of the obsidian bowl, the liquid inside beginning to stir as if responding to her touch.
"Prophecies," she murmured, "are not always spoken. Some... are seen."
Raven stood rooted to the spot, a strange current tightening around her chest.
Without warning, the queen reached out and laid her hand gently over Raven's.
The instant their skin met, a sharp pulse of energy shot through Raven's arm and straight to her heart.
She gasped—but before she could pull away, the world around her shattered into darkness.
Inside the Vision
Wind. Screams. Blood.
Raven stood in the middle of a battlefield, but her feet weren't touching the ground. Everything moved around her like fragments of a dream—too real to be imagined, too impossible to believe.
Two creatures—one cloaked in shadows, the other glowing faintly with silver light—clashed again and again, their roars shaking the heavens. Around them, the world burned.
And then—
A girl. Her.
But not just her—there was something different. Power danced over her skin like threads of moonlight.
She turned sharply, locking eyes with Raven.
"Find him," she whispered. "The storm only ends with him."
Then everything went white.
Back in the Chamber
Raven collapsed to her knees, gasping for breath.
John was beside her in seconds. "Raven! Raven, are you—?"
"I saw..." she whispered, voice hoarse. "I saw something."
The queen stood above them, expression unreadable. Her eyes pulsed faintly.
"The threads of fate have begun to tighten," she said solemnly. "The blood of the forgotten. The bond of the broken. A love that can either heal... or destroy."
John looked up sharply. "What does that mean?"
But the queen was already walking away, her robes trailing behind her like shadows.
She left them with one final message:
"Your sister must choose. And soon. Because if she doesn't... the world will."
Raven's breath hitched in her chest as the words of the prophecy echoed in her mind. The weight of it, the terrible burden of the future she was being forced into, caused her pulse to spike. Fear crawled up her throat, suffocating her thoughts. She could feel her hands tremble, her legs starting to shake. Her heart raced, erratic, like the beat of a drum calling her to escape.
But Raven didn't run yet. Not in that moment. She simply froze, unable to process the flood of information swirling around her. Her mind screamed at her to get out—to flee this place that now felt like a trap—but her feet remained glued to the floor.
Then, the panic overwhelmed her.
Without thinking, without a second's hesitation, Raven bolted forward, rushing out of the dim, heavy atmosphere of the witches' coven. She didn't know where she was going, only that she had to get away from the oppressive air, from the knowing eyes of the witches, from the prophecy that haunted her every step.
And then—crash.
She collided with something soft but firm, and she stumbled back, gasping for air. Her gaze darted upward, and for a brief moment, she locked eyes with a girl who stood before her, her expression as startled as Raven's own.
The girl's long hair, a deep shade of brown, framed her face, but it was her eyes—vibrant green, like an untamed forest—that held Raven's attention. The stranger didn't seem surprised by the impact, though, her stance steady, as if she'd been waiting for it.
"You must be Raven," the girl said, voice calm but laced with something Raven couldn't quite place. A knowing? Or perhaps just an unsettling familiarity.
Before Raven could respond, a deep voice cut through the tension.
"Sage, you know better than to linger in the hallways," came the voice of an older woman, cold and smooth like silk. Raven's eyes widened as she realized the voice belonged to none other than Mougeese, the witch who had summoned them here.
Sage turned toward her mother, her gaze unreadable, and then back to Raven, who still hadn't found her footing. "I didn't mean to—" she started, but the words seemed to die in her throat. There was something about this encounter that felt too... timely. Too intentional.
Mougeese's eyes narrowed, as if appraising Raven, sensing the fear radiating off of her. "Come, child. We have much to discuss."
Raven swallowed hard, heart still pounding in her chest, the prophecy and her panic melding into one confusing, dizzying mess.
Raven stood frozen, her mind a tangled mess of thoughts and confusion. The suffocating weight of the prophecy, the unsettling encounter with Sage and her mother, and the haunting presence of the coven—all of it crashed down on her like a storm she couldn't outrun. She looked at Mougeese, the cold, calculating stare of the witch locking her in place.
"You will come with me, Raven," Mougeese's voice was low, filled with a quiet power that seemed to vibrate in the very air around them. "There is much you must learn. Your path is not one you can escape, no matter how you try."
But Raven—her chest tight, her breath shallow—shook her head. A spark of rebellion flared within her, cutting through the fog of panic.
"No. I'm not going with you," she said, her voice strained but firm. She turned, her heart pounding, and without waiting for another word, she fled.
Her footsteps echoed down the hall, reverberating in her ears as she stumbled through the corridors, her mind blanking on everything, the prophecy, the purpose of her visit—all of it slipping through her fingers like water. She couldn't remember why she was there in the first place, what she had come for. Her brother... why hadn't he been with her? She couldn't quite place it, couldn't grasp the reason he was supposed to be by her side.
The fear and confusion pressed in on her, clouding her thoughts, and all she could think of was returning home. Home—where she could hide, where everything felt safe, even though she knew deep down it was anything but.
She stumbled out into the cold night air, the wind biting at her skin as she broke into a run, heading toward the place that had once felt like a sanctuary, a place of normalcy.
But there was no comfort waiting for her there. There never had been.