Chapter 3 The Awakening Begins

Elowyn woke up to silence and a dull throb beneath her collarbone. The burning sensation from the night before had dulled, but in its place was something else. A strange pull. As though something invisible was tethered to her and slowly reeling her in.

She sat up and instinctively pressed her hand to the mark. It pulsed faintly under her fingers. Cold, yet alive. Her eyes darted to the window.

There was nothing there. No symbol, no figure, no trace of what had happened.

Had she imagined it?

No. The pain had been too real. The silver mark still shimmered against her skin, undeniable proof that her birthday had brought more than just loneliness this year. She swung her legs off the bed and walked to the bathroom. Under the light, the mark looked almost beautiful, like moonlight carved into flesh.

A curling symbol of crescent arcs and sharp runes. Foreign, yet familiar. Her fingers hovered over it again. As she traced the outer edge, her vision swam, and a low hum echoed in her ears.

She stumbled back from the mirror.

Whatever had happened to her, it wasn't finished.

Elowyn threw on a hoodie to hide the mark and tried to continue her day as usual. She ate her toast without appetite, packed her books without much thought, and walked the familiar path toward the academy she attended downtown. It was a private institute for scholars and those in prestigious family lines, something her last name alone had barely earned her.

As she passed the bakery on the corner, the one where she'd bought her birthday cupcake, she caught a flicker of movement inside. A man seated by the window stared directly at her, unmoving. He wore a dark coat, and his gaze felt like cold steel against her skin.

She blinked, and he was gone.

Shaking her head, Elowyn walked faster.

Her first few classes passed in a blur. Her thoughts kept drifting back to the night before, to the moment the flame had flickered out and that haunting silhouette had appeared. No one would believe her. Her aunt would call it another excuse. Her cousin Maedra would twist it into mockery.

By the time she reached physical training, she had nearly convinced herself to forget it.

Until the coach called for hand-to-hand drills.

Elowyn paired with a classmate named Cassor, one of the stronger males in their group. He always smirked when he beat someone, but today, he seemed unusually wary of her.

"Try not to break anything," he said, half-joking.

She gave him a half-hearted shrug and stepped into stance.

The moment he moved toward her, Elowyn reacted without thinking. Her body twisted instinctively, catching his wrist mid-air, pulling him off-balance, and sweeping his legs from beneath him in a single fluid motion.

Cassor hit the mat hard. There was a stunned silence around them.

Elowyn froze. She had never moved like that before.

"What the hell was that?" he groaned, sitting up and rubbing his back.

Their instructor narrowed his eyes. "Where did you learn that counter?"

"I didn't," she said quickly. "It just... happened."

Whispers rippled through the room.

"She's hiding something."

"Is she enhanced?"

"Thought she was human."

"I am human," she mumbled, her voice barely audible as she hurried to the edge of the training ring and grabbed her bag.

Maedra intercepted her outside the gym doors, eyes narrowed and arms folded. She looked perfect as always, her platinum hair pinned in a flawless braid, her nails painted with glimmering crystals.

"What was that back there?" Maedra asked, voice sharp.

"I don't know," Elowyn muttered.

Maedra's gaze flicked down to her chest. "Is that a mark on your neck?"

Elowyn tugged the collar of her hoodie up.

"Are you hiding something, Elowyn?"

"Stay out of my business, Maedra."

"You think you can walk around with some shiny skin design and act like you're not one of us?" Maedra leaned closer. "If you're hiding a shift, it won't last long. They'll sense it. The moment your scent changes, they'll come for you."

"I'm not hiding anything," Elowyn said, forcing herself to step back and turn away.

She didn't look back as Maedra's laugh followed her down the corridor.

By the time she got home, the pull under her collarbone was stronger. Like a string coiling tighter around her heart.

She didn't eat dinner. She didn't bother pretending everything was normal.

Instead, she stood in front of her bedroom mirror again, breathing hard, the hoodie discarded on the floor. The mark was brighter now. Almost luminous.

"I don't understand what you want from me," she whispered, her voice trembling.

The mirror did not respond. But something inside her chest did.

That night, her dreams were not her own.

She ran through an endless forest. Her limbs were powerful and quick, her breaths deep and sharp. Moonlight bathed the treetops in silver, and her paws...no, her hands, were streaked with mud and blood.

Something howled in the distance.

And then she saw them, dozens of glowing eyes in the trees watching her, waiting. She ran faster, panic surging in her chest, but it wasn't fear she felt.

It was hunger.

She leaped across a ravine and landed on a bed of moss. When she looked down, her reflection shimmered in a pool of still water. Her eyes weren't her own.

They were golden, wild, feral.

She jolted awake, chest heaving. Sweat soaked her sheets. The room was pitch black, but her vision felt sharper. Her ears buzzed. The hum in her veins had become a roar.

She stumbled to the mirror again and gasped.

Her eyes, even now, had a faint amber ring around the irises. Her breath caught as they shifted just for a second into something other. Something not human.

The mark beneath her collarbone flared in the dark, casting faint silver light against her skin.

A knock echoed through the house.

It was slow, measured. Not her aunt, not Maedra.

She pulled on a robe, heart pounding, and crept toward the door.

The knock came again with three precise strikes.

She glanced through the peephole.

A man stood outside, drenched in shadow. He was tall, lean, and held himself like someone who had never been uncertain a day in his life.

His jaw was sharp, and even through the dark she could see a faint silver glow just beneath his own collarbone.

A mark.., just like hers.

She hesitated. Her instincts screamed at her to run, but her legs didn't move. Her hand reached for the handle before she could stop it.

The door creaked open.

The man's eyes met hers, icy silver, clear as moonlight.

"You should have come when it called you," he said.

Then his gaze flicked to her neck, and his expression darkened.

"They've already found you."