The Northwoods were eerily silent.
Raine stepped carefully, the thick carpet of moss beneath her boots muffling her every move. Xavier was beside her, his hand never straying far from his dagger as they navigated deeper into the forest. Behind them, their small scouting team followed—each werewolf alert, their senses stretched thin.
Something was off.
"There's a scent," Xavier murmured, nostrils flaring slightly. "Familiar, but… wrong."
Raine paused, eyes narrowing. "You feel it too?"
He nodded.
Suddenly, the stillness shattered.
A cry echoed from behind—followed by the sound of claws and steel. The group turned, weapons drawn, but it was already too late for one of their own. A shadowy creature had struck and disappeared into the mist, leaving behind only blood and chaos.
"We're not alone," Raine growled.
"Ambush," one of the warriors snarled. "They knew we were coming."
Xavier grabbed Raine's wrist. "We retreat. Now."
"No." Her voice was low, defiant. "This forest… it's testing us. I think this is part of what my mother's prophecy warned about."
Xavier's eyes flicked to her. "Then we're running right into the trap."
"Maybe," she whispered, "but if we run from every threat, we'll never be more than survivors."
A hush fell as something shifted—inside her.
Raine's eyes began to glow faintly, the same silvery-blue hue she had seen in her mother's visions. Trees around her responded, leaves trembling though there was no wind. Her wolf was awakening more powerfully than ever before.
"Stand behind me," she said, stepping forward.
The trees parted at her presence.
Xavier watched her, pride and fear warring in his chest. "What are you becoming?"
Raine's lips curved slightly. "Something they didn't see coming."
Just as they advanced into the glowing glade ahead, a figure stepped out of the mist.
It was someone they knew.
Ezekiel.
Alive—and armed.
But the light in his eyes was different.
"Xavier. Raine." He said their names like a stranger. "You shouldn't have come here."