The chains clinked as Aria stirred, the metal cold against her burning wrists.
She wasn't in a cell. This was something older, deeper. A ritual chamber beneath the pack house—built for punishment, not imprisonment. The air reeked of dried blood, damp stone, and something darker… like fear that had soaked into the walls over generations.
Her breathing was shallow, but her heart beat strong. And louder.
Faster.
Different.
Something had changed inside her. The fire that flickered in her palm before? Now it pulsed in her chest like a second heartbeat.
> You carry three bloods… let them rise.
The Moon Goddess's voice still echoed in her mind like a melody she couldn't forget.
Aria gritted her teeth, flexing her fingers. A spark crackled at her fingertips.
A soft hum followed.
Magic.
She didn't know how she knew it, but she felt it—witchcraft, thick and ancient, coiling beneath her skin. It wasn't taught. It was remembered.
Yara and her father had hidden this. Suppressed it. Lied to her.
> No more.
She took a deep breath and pulled.
A sudden surge of heat bloomed from her core, racing down her arms. The shackles hissed as her skin flared with glowing red sigils. The stone beneath her trembled. The air bent around her.
Then—
Boom.
The chains exploded.
Aria gasped, falling to her knees as smoke curled from the broken metal. Her skin shimmered faintly with runes she didn't recognize. Her blood felt like wildfire.
Her wolf stirred inside her for the first time. Not fully. Not awake. But watching.
> You are not broken, it whispered. You are forged.
---
Aria pushed to her feet.
Outside the chamber, voices shouted—soldiers, guards. They had felt the explosion.
Let them come.
She stretched out her hand. Magic answered.
The wooden door shattered before she even touched it. A blur of motion came toward her—two guards shifting mid-charge.
Too slow.
Aria's eyes flared gold as she flicked her hand forward, and wind ripped through the hall like a blade. The wolves hit the walls hard and didn't move.
> "You're a witch," one of them gasped before blacking out.
"No," Aria said, walking past him. "I'm everything you tried to kill."
---
She ran.
Through stone halls and dark tunnels. Her magic flared with every heartbeat. She was drawn now—not just by instinct, but by a bond stronger than pain.
And at the edge of the forest, beneath the rising moon—
They were waiting.
Ronan's head snapped toward her first, his eyes blazing silver. Lucien's expression shifted from annoyance to something far more intense.
> "Damn," Lucien breathed. "You burned your way out, didn't you?"
"I didn't need saving," she snapped.
Ronan stepped forward, voice low and steady. "You found your power."
"No," Aria said. "I claimed it."
The moment held.
Then—
Lucien was suddenly in front of her, eyes gleaming with hunger and awe. "Do you feel it now, little flame? The bond?"
Her lips parted.
She did.
Not just one—but two threads now pulsed in her chest. One was wild, earthy, grounded. The other sharp, ancient, electric.
Ronan and Lucien.
Two parts of a destiny she didn't choose—but maybe didn't want to run from anymore.
Not when they looked at her like this.
> Like she was the storm.