Chapter 7 What is wrong with me

SIENA

The forest was drenched in silver light-ethereal, almost unreal, but vivid enough to feel like truth.

I didn't know how I got there. I didn't question it. I simply was.

The trees shimmered, as if their veins pulsed with moonlight. Their leaves whispered secrets–not in words, but in something older, something deeper-something my soul recognized before my mind even tried to catch up.

The wind wrapped around me like a guardian-not pushing, but gently guiding. Soft, yet firm. Like it knew where I needed to be before I did.

And then I saw them.

Wolves. Dozens of them. Towering, majestic, impossibly silent. Their eyes glowed like twin moons in the dark. When they looked at me, I was not prey. I was something more.

The pack parted, forming a path.

She stepped forward.

My breath caught.

She was me.

But not quite. Taller. Stronger. Every movement radiated power-a presence impossible to ignore. The wolves bowed their heads to her, and something inside me ached.

In her hand, she held a flame.

Silver. Alive. Not fire-not quite. Something purer.

It flickered softly, humming without sound, as if it knew me. Then, without warning, it leapt from her palm to mine-wrapping around my fingers as if it had always belonged there.

And then–

I woke up, gasping.

My lungs clenched like I'd forgotten how to breathe. Sweat slicked my skin. My heart hammered against my ribs, desperate to escape.

The ceiling above was dull gray. Familiar. Real.

But nothing felt real anymore.

That dream clung to me-too vivid, too visceral to dismiss. I could still feel the weight of that silver flame on my skin, still hear the wolves breathing in the silence.

It hadn't been a dream.

It was a memory.

I sat up slowly, fingers brushing the cold metal of the ring on my finger. Heavy. Unchanging. But now... it felt like it meant something more. Like it was tied to that dream-that version of me.

Sleep didn't find me again.

×××

By morning, my mind was made up.

I had to talk to someone. I like it or not, that someone was Lorenzo.

Even if he wouldn't believe me. Even if he didn't care.

Because somewhere deep inside, a quiet voice whispered that maybe-just maybe-he'd understand more than he let on.

I found him in the training yard.

He was already moving-sparring with one of his commanders. The way he moved made it hard to look away. Every step was deliberate, every swing of his blade effortless. Power coiled beneath his muscles like a sleeping storm.

I hesitated at the edge of the yard, unsure, until his eyes flicked toward me.

He stilled. Just for a moment. Enough.

"You're up early," he said, lowering his arm.

"I... had a dream," I said, stepping closer. My voice sounded small in the open air.

He didn't respond. Only tilted his head, waiting.

I took a breath. "It felt real. There were wolves. Dozens of them. And light. A silver flame."

Still, he said nothing. His expression unreadable.

"There was... a version of me. She looked like me, but stronger. She held the flame in her hand. And then it-" I stopped. How do you explain something that makes no sense? Something that feels like the truth but sounds like madness?

Lorenzo wiped sweat from his brow with a towel. "You've been under a lot of pressure," he said finally. "It's not unusual to have vivid dreams."

That was it.

No questions. No curiosity. Just dismissal.

I stared at him. "I'm not hallucinating," I said, firmer now. "It didn't feel like a dream. It felt like-"

"Dreams aren't reality, Siena."

His tone wasn't harsh. Not cold. Just... final. Like the conversation was already over.

He turned back to his training.

And just like that, I was invisible again.

×××

I walked away before he could see the sting in my eyes.

Back in my room, I curled up by the window, arms wrapped tight around my knees. Outside, the courtyard lay blanketed in mist. The world moved on, but I stayed still.

My hands shook.

I was an omega. Weak. Disposable. Everyone reminded me with every glance, every word-never to me, always about me.

So why...

Why did I keep dreaming of power?

Why did that flame feel like mine?

Why did the wolves bow?

I pressed my forehead into my knees, desperate to silence the storm in my head.

Maybe it was all in my imagination. Maybe just wishful thinking-some fantasy my mind clung to in order to survive.

But deep down... I didn't believe it.

The flame was too real.

And that terrified me more than anything.

Because if it was real-if something inside me was waking-then I had no idea what came next. Or what it meant for me.

The silence wrapped around me like a second skin.

No one knocked. No one called my name. No one cared if I was okay.

And somehow... that hurt more than the dream ever could.

The room creaked softly.

At first, I thought it was the wind slipping through cracks. But then-I heard it.

The door.

Heavy wooden groaning as it slowly opened, inch by inch, like it hadn't been touched in years.

Then footsteps.

Slow. Deliberate. Steady.

I heard them approaching, but I didn't turn. I couldn't.

I was too deep in thought, tangled in the memory of the dream and the ache in my chest. My mind was far away-caught between fear and confusion, barely registering the sound.

The footsteps stopped right behind me.

I still didn't turn.

Until-

A hand touched my back.

I froze.

The world slammed back into focus.

My heart lurched, thudding wildly. Breath caught mid-thought.

The touch wasn't harsh-but it sent a jolt through me. Firm enough to pull me out of my thoughts.

Someone was here.

Right behind me.

I didn't move. Didn't speak. My body locked in place as my thoughts went still.

Who had come in?

Why didn't they say anything?

My fingers clenched the fabric of my skirt, trying to find something solid to hold on to.

Who... or what... could it be?

A voice inside me-still tied to that dream-whispered:

What if they followed you here?