Chapter 3 Lazric – She Smells Like Ash and Silver

The girl followed me.

That should've worried me.

It didn't.

She moved like a human - stiff from fear, impulsive with grief. But her scent said otherwise. Not fully turned, not awakened, but close. Too close.

The night air carried her in waves. Ash. Silver. Burned salt and bone-deep sorrow. It clung to her like old smoke.

And underneath all that?

Blood. Not Calen's. Hers. Old bloodline. Hunted bloodline. The kind of scent that wakes a sleeping pack.

She didn't know yet.

She would.

We moved deeper into the trees, where the ground was soft and wrong, like it remembered violence. The stars thinned overhead, the pines taller here, twisted slightly like they'd leaned away from something once.

She kept up. Impressive. Her boots caught on the roots, but she didn't fall. I slowed once, gave her a look.

She didn't flinch. "Where are we going?"

"You asked for the truth."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one I have."

Her eyes were sharp. Green-gold. I hadn't noticed in the dark back there - too focused on her pulse. She had Calen's fire but none of his cowardice.

That would make her dangerous.

I stopped at the clearing.

Charred ground. Circle of blackened stones. No grass had grown here in years. Not since the night Thorne gave the order and I didn't follow it.

She stepped into the circle, hesitation catching her for just a breath.

"This is where he died," I said.

She turned to look at me. "You were there?"

"No. But I saw the aftermath."

"Then how do you know?"

I crouched and touched the earth. It was cold through the gloves. "Because this is what happens when you try to run."

She looked at me like I'd spoken another language. "Calen didn't run. He died on a trail."

"He died trying to sever himself from the Draven pack. That's not something they forgive."

"He wasn't part of a pack."

"You sure about that?"

I let it hang in the air. The wind shifted. Trees groaned like bones cracking in the cold.

I stood. She hadn't moved. "You feel it yet?"

"Feel what?"

"The weight. The burn in your chest. The way the forest listens now."

She said nothing.

"You've already started changing."

"Changing into what?" she whispered.

"Whatever they made you."

She took a step back. Not away from me - from the truth. Her breath hitched.

Then it happened.

Her pupils narrowed.

Not all the way - not the full shift - but enough.

Enough to scare her.

Enough to prove me right.

Her breathing turned shallow. She shook her head. "No. This is just- I'm tired. Grieving. I haven't slept-"

"Stop lying to yourself."

"I'm not-"

"You felt it at the funeral. In your blood. When the wind shifted. You felt the bones of your name tremble."

She stared at me like I'd reached inside her head.

"I don't know who you are," she said, voice unsteady. "But I know Calen. He wasn't- He wouldn't-"

I walked toward her. Not fast. Not threatening. But her shoulders tensed like she'd hit a wall.

"I knew Calen better than you think," I said. "He was supposed to bring you in. He didn't."

She shook her head again, mouth parting.

I stepped into the edge of the circle. "He loved you. Enough to break the rules. Enough to die for it."

Tears welled, but she didn't let them fall. Good. She was stronger than most.

"But that's not the whole story," I said.

"What is?"

I didn't answer.

She stared at me. Her fists clenched. "Why me?"

"Because of what you are."

"I'm not-"

"Not a wolf yet. But you're close. You wouldn't hear the forest otherwise. Wouldn't smell me through the cold. Wouldn't have found the tree."

She blinked. "What tree?"

"The one with the mark. Spiral in the bark. Same one Calen drew."

Her lips parted. She didn't speak.

"You think he just found that symbol by accident?" I asked. "It's a hunter's mark. Old blood magic. Used to track the bloodlines they want to erase."

She looked sick. "Why would anyone want to erase me?"

I paused.

Then told her the truth.

"Because your family defied the Alpha of the Draven pack three generations ago. And they've been hunting your line ever since."

She dropped to her knees. Not like a collapse - more like her legs finally admitted they couldn't carry it all.

"What do I do?" she asked.

I looked at her - this trembling spark of someone not yet burned out. She was on the edge of two lives. I could push her either way.

But I wasn't cruel.

I crouched beside her, not touching her. Just close enough for her to hear the change in my breath when I said: "You don't run. You rise."

Her eyes flicked up. "I don't know how."

"You will."

Silence fell between us.

Then she swayed.

Eyes rolled back. Her body seized once, violently. I caught her before she hit the ground.

And in the flickering dark, with her head cradled in my arms, she whispered something that froze me.

"You were there... when they burned him."

I stared at her.

Because I had been.

Just not in the way she thought.