DAMIEN
He couldn't sleep.
Even after she vanished into the trees — as silent as moonlight slipping between fingers — Damien stood in the river until the cold gnawed at his skin and the stars began to fade.
She had spoken.
His name. On her lips. Fragile and halting, but real.
And it changed everything.
By dawn, he was already packed. His boots were soaked, his shirt damp from dew, but he didn't care. Alaric watched him from the edge of camp, arms folded, brow low.
"You sure about this?"
"She spoke to me," Damien said, tightening the strap on his satchel. "She knows who I am."
"Or she's a forest spirit with a sense of humor," Alaric muttered, then sighed. "Fine. Go talk to your wolf-girl. Just don't get eaten."
Damien didn't answer. He was already walking.
The forest was alive in a way it never had been before. Every rustle in the brush, every shadow between the trees might have been her. He followed no path — only memory, instinct, and hope.
"Come on," he murmured, pausing near a moss-covered stump. "I know you're out here."
Nothing answered. No birdsong. No snapping twig. Just the quiet hush of leaves above him.
"I don't know your name," he said, speaking to the silence. "But I know you're watching me."
He took another step, slower this time, hands open, unarmed.
"You don't have to be alone."
A twig snapped behind him.
He turned — and there she was.
Half-hidden behind a fallen tree, crouched like a shadow given shape. Her hair was tangled with leaves, her skin painted in dirt and moonlight. But her eyes—those impossible violet eyes—held him in place.
He swallowed.
"You don't have to live like this," he said. "In the cold. In the dark. You're one of us."
Her head tilted, slow and wolf-like. She didn't blink.
"You're human," he pressed gently. "You belong with people. With warmth. Food. Language. Family."
Something flickered in her expression. Not anger. Not fear.
Pain.
She straightened slightly, rising from her crouch.
"I have family," she said, voice rough from disuse. "Pack."
Damien hesitated, heart thudding.
"I don't mean to take them from you," he said. "But I think… maybe there's more for you than the forest."
She stepped closer, wary but curious. Her mark pulsed faintly beneath the collarbone — a shimmer of black that seemed to stir with his words.
"You speak like stars," she whispered. "Like… fire."
He almost smiled. "You understand."
"I remember," she said, brow furrowed. "But I don't know how."
Damien stepped forward, just a little. "Then come with me. Let me show you."
She froze.
Behind her, the trees whispered. Wind moved through the branches like warning breath. Her fingers flexed. Her shoulders pulled back.
"I don't… belong," she said, but it wavered — like she wasn't sure anymore.
Damien's voice dropped, soft as river foam. "Maybe you don't belong just to one world. Maybe you're part of both."
For a long moment, she didn't move.
Then—footsteps.
Swift. Heavy. Not hers.
Damien turned just in time to see a shape crash through the underbrush — low, fast, snarling. A wolf. Cinnamon-colored. Young.
It skidded to a halt between him and Anecia, teeth bared, tail raised.
"Liri!" Anecia gasped.
The wolf growled low, eyes locked on Damien.
Anecia's hands trembled.
The pack had followed.
She looked at Damien, eyes wide with panic — not for herself, but for him.
"Go," she said. "Please."
"I'm not afraid."
"You should be."
Behind her, more growls stirred in the brush. Shadows with gleaming eyes.
Damien stepped back, reluctant but not foolish.
"I'll come back," he promised. "I won't give up."
She stared at him, chest heaving.
"…Why?" she whispered.
"Because I see you."
And with that, he turned and disappeared into the trees — not running, but leaving. Respecting her space. Her fear. Her world.
She stood there long after the pack circled her, after the growls faded.
One hand resting over her mark.
It still pulsed.
And now she knew why.
It had never been a curse.
It was a calling.