Chapter 2 The Silence Within

Some say your wolf speaks to you the moment you turn sixteen. Others say it happens when you first shed blood. For me, it just never happened. Not at sixteen, not at bleeding, not even at the very moment I needed her.

Her name was Aira. At least, that was what the old seer told me. According to her, I had a wolf buried deep inside, locked away by something or someone unknown to her. I never really believed in prophecy or fate, but perhaps some nights, between the veil of dreams and reality, I feel her. A breath that is not mine. A whisper that never quite makes it to the surface. And then I long for her.

Their lands are bounded by the thick mist and the darker woods. Most say they feel energized by the forest. I feel alone in it. The trees talk to others. For me, the trees remain silent. Like her.

I took the forlorn little path that meandered from the outer cabins inward past the dining hall-the only place where Omegas were allowed to eat after the rest had eaten all they cared to. The moisture was heavy in the air, full of the smell of pines and rain. My boots squelched against the muddy trail. Autumn had almost swallowed itself up, and winter promised to be a very harsh one, especially for someone like me, unmated, unnoticed, and definitely unwanted.

Laughter came up behind me from a band of warriors. One bumped into my shoulder intentionally. "Watch it, Omega," he chuckled without even glancing back.

My fingers clenched into a fist, yet I carried on walking. I had learned not to fight back. Omegas didn't have that kind of right. Not here. Not in Nightshade.

Hey, Lyra!"

I turned to the familiar voice. Zara. Her blond hair was duly swept up in evil perfection into an untouchable ponytail, and her frame was draped with sleek leather. She was as if already a Luna; however, she wasn't mated to somebody yet. Her smile was startlingly bright. But I had lived so many years silently that I knew all the horrors people hide behind such smiles.

"You missed chores this morning," she said, hooking her arm through mine as though we were besties. We weren't. "That's unlike you."

"I wasn't feeling well," I said almost in a whisper.

Zara chuckled, far too loud and bright. "Poor little Lyra. You really should take care of yourself. You never know who might be watching."

I didn't answer. Zara loved silence. It made her feel more in control. I let her keep thinking so.

Reaching the hallway, I flung off her arm and headed at the back towards the leftover keep. Cold meat. Stale bread. Apple slices, if I were lucky. I sat alone, as usual.

Zara drifted away, giggling, leaning close to one of the warriors, and whispering secrets I'd rather never hear.

And a cold shiver ran somewhere inside me. Not from the cold-there was no cold. From her. Aira.

It was faint, like a breath brushing against my mind. A flicker of warmth followed by the ache of absence.

My eyes closed as I reached out for her. Just once. Just a whisper. But the silence returned, louder than before. My wolf was still asleep. Or caged.

-

By nightfall, I returned to my cabin, my footsteps heavy and my heart heavier than I cared to admit. There was no warmth inside: no comforting fire or bright smile, just creaking floorboards, a single thin blanket spread on an old wooden bench, and the chilling sound of the wind scratching away at the windows.

Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, my fingers traced invisible patterns across the rough cotton sheets.

"Why won't you talk to me?" I whispered into the night. "Are you afraid of me? Or do you hate me too?"

Nothing. There never was.

I recalled how, once upon a time, perhaps ten or eleven years ago, before the old seer passed away, she'd taken my hand in hers, hers looking all milky with age, and had said, "She's in there, child. Powerful. Quiet. Watching. Waiting. But there's a lock on your soul that's not yours."

A lock.

Sometimes I wondered if I'd swallowed the key.

---

The following morning, I went to the training grounds. Omegas were not allowed to train, formally. But I stood hidden in the shadows and copied their movements whenever no one was looking. Behind the cabin, I had made my own little space, tucked away between some fallen trees and tall grass where I could practice without being an eyesore.

I threw punches at the empty air and spun around to duck, practicing the moves I had banked in memory. My body complied. My wolf did not.

Each movement felt hollow without Aira. No growling. No adrenaline. No inner words guiding me. Just a girl putting on airs.

Another rustle behind me, and I froze.

"Impressive form," whispered a voice.

My heart leapt into my throat as I whipped around, fists raised.

Gabriel, Caden's Beta, stood leaning against a tree. His face was unreadable, his arms crossed.

"I'm not hurting anyone," I said quickly. "I just-"

He raised a hand. "Relax. I'm not here to stop you. I'm... observing."

I didn't respond.

He looked me over. "Why do you train alone?"

I shrugged. "I don't have a wolf. Not really. I just... try."

He tilted his head. "You do have one. She's just not speaking yet."

"You say that like it's normal."

"It's not," he said plainly. "But it's not unheard of either. Some wolves take time. Especially if there's trauma. Or magic."

I flinched at the word. Magic.

"Has anyone tried to help you?"

I gave a bitter laugh. "I'm an Omega. Helping me would be... frowned upon."

He did not deny that. Just nodded once. "Keep training. You're stronger than you think."

Then he turned away.

---

That night, I dreamed of her.

Aira.

I stood in a forest, thick with mist, the moon a bleeding silver above me. Across from me she stood, her form vague and shifting. Not quite a wolf, not quite a shadow. Her eyes were mine-but brighter, wilder.

I tried to speak, and my voice was swallowed. I reached out. She didn't move.

Then she whispered. One word: "Soon."

I was jolted awake, breath rasping out of me, heartbeat...... My heartbeat.

She had spoken.

She had spoken.

I jumped from bed, scrambling for paper, for a pen, for anything to remember. I wrote the word down, over, over, over, until my hands ached: Soon. Soon. Soon.

The days after that became blurred. Whenever I closed my eyes, I would try to find her again. Every time I trained, I trained harder, pushed further, waited longer, and whispered to her beneath the stars on the riverbank or under my breath while cleaning the elders' hall.

She was silent.

Yet, I had faith then. The whisper wasn't a creation of my own mind. I knew it. I felt it.

She was coming.

And I would be ready when she came.

Not just for her.

For all those who ever..."looked at me and saw nothing."

Inside me, something ancient lived. Something powerful.

And people would see it soon, too.