"It's you," Balu whispers, voice barely audible.
Ella blinks, confusion flashing across her face as she glances between the woman and John, the same man who had caught her mid-escape just hours ago.
"She's your mate?" Balu's tone sharpens, disbelief laced with venom. The words drip like acid.
Ella frowns. Mate? What kind of nonsense is that supposed to mean?
Balu's gaze rakes over her slowly, assessing. Beautiful, yes,but plain. Mortal. In no world could this fragile-looking girl compare to her. Balu's figure exudes power; her presence demands attention. Ella's only advantage is her youth, a fleeting currency in their world.
"Alright, can we start now?" Steffen's voice slices through the tension, deep and commanding.
The weight in his tone leaves no room for argument.
"Whatever," Balu mutters, masking her bitterness behind indifference.
Without another word, she takes Ella's hands in hers. The moment their skin touches, something electric sparks in the air.
Balu's eyes sharpen, her focus narrowing to a pinpoint. The faint shimmer in her ginger curls begins to glow, strands catching the light like molten fire. Her gift, rare, ancient, and dangerous, awakens.
A thin stream of golden energy weaves from her fingertips, threading into Ella's palms.
Ella gasps, instinctively trying to pull away, but her body locks in place.
"Stay still," Balu murmurs, voice distant, already half lost to the trance.
The air hums. Curtains stir though no wind moves.
Deep within Ella's mind, a vision begins to take shape, a flickering image at first, then clearer, steadier. A sterile white room. The steady beep of a heart monitor. The scent of antiseptic.
On the bed lies a woman, pale and trembling, her face hidden beneath the harsh light. Shadows play over her skin, and fear clings to her like a second layer.
Balu's breath catches as the woman's lips move, forming words she cannot yet hear. The edges of the memory pulse, threatening to collapse, but Balu pushes deeper, forcing clarity
"Tell me, Sarah, aren't you happy? You've given birth to a beautiful baby girl," a nurse in uniform said, cradling the newborn in her arms.
"It's not about what I want. It's Joseph... he won't be pleased with another girl," Sarah muttered, fear and frustration thick in her voice. Her husband, a man bound by rigid tradition, believed only a son could carry on his legacy. He had warned her , this child must be a boy, or both she and the baby would pay the price. And Sarah dared not doubt him.
"He'll kill me and my baby if he finds out," she whispered, burying her face in her hands. She couldn't even bring herself to look at her child, afraid that the moment she did, she'd be too attached to let go.
"I can help you with that," the nurse offered softly, a glimmer of something unreadable flashing in her eyes.
"We can switch your baby for another , one of the right gender," she suggested.
And just like that, the plan was set into motion. With her position at the hospital, the woman carried out the switch easily. Sarah, relieved yet terrified, left the hospital that same night, afraid of being discovered.
On the other end, the mother of the baby boy , switched for Sarah's daughter , rejected the child without hesitation. Barely more than a teenager, she saw the newborn as nothing more than the consequence of a mistake. She had given birth only because it was too late for an abortion. Without a word, she fled, vanishing from the hospital's reach.
Days passed as the staff searched for the missing mother or a willing adoptive family, but no one came forward. Then, in the midst of their discussion, a woman dressed entirely in white, her face veiled, entered the hospital. Without hesitation, she claimed the baby as her own and left , disappearing as mysteriously as she had arrived.
"No!" Balu's voice tore through the room as her body jolts backward. Her hand fly out instinctively, severing the link. A violent shock rippled through her veins, dragging her soul out of Ella's mind and slamming it back into her own body.
She gasp a sharp, guttural sound , clutching her chest as if to keep her spirit from splintering apart. Her usually radiant face turns ashen, the shimmer in her ginger hair dulling like dying embers.
John steps forward, alarm flashing across his features. "What happened?"
Balu's eyes snaps open, wide with disbelief. "I was thrown out of her memories," she said hoarsely. Her voice trembles , not from weakness , she would never admit that , but from sheer disbelief.
Impossible.
No mortal mind could throw her out. Not even a witch strong enough could have done than less say a mortal like Ella.
"There was... someone else," she whisperers , then stop herself abruptly. The memory of that presence, dark, ancient, suffocating ,sent a chill crawling up her spine. She dared not speak of it, not here, not in front of him.
Steffen's gaze hardened. "Someone else?" His tone carries both curiosity and warning.
She swallow . "Forget it." Her jaw tighten. She would not confess her fear , not to him. Not when she's spent years trying to prove she wasn't fragile.
"What did you see?" Steffen pressed, his voice low, almost hesitant, as if he isn't sure he wants the answer.
Before she can respond, Ella's voice cut sharply through the tension.
"Hold on."
All heads turn.
"You were inside my memories? Without my consent?" she demands, her tone trembling with fury. The pulse in her throat beat visibly, anger crackling in the air around her.
A cold defiance burn in her eyes as she glares at Steffen. "I don't care who you think you are, or what title you hold. My past is mine. You don't get to tear through it like it's yours to take."
Her voice wavered at the edges , not with fear, but with the sting of invasion of privacy .
For a brief moment, even the King of Wolves said nothing.
He stiffens.
No one, no one, has ever raised their voice at him before, let alone directly to his face. His pride demands a response, but his conscience reminds him that she's right. He should have asked for her consent.
"I'm sorry."
The words leave his lips before he can stop them.
Balu and John exchange startled glances; neither has ever heard him utter those words.
"I should have asked for your permission," Steffen says quietly, his tone softer than anyone expects from him.
Ella exhales, some of her fury melting away. With a voice like that, even if she wants to stay angry, she can't. He's apologized, and that's enough. She decides to let it go. What's done is done.
Balu clears her throat, slicing through the silence, unwilling to watch whatever strange connection is forming between them.
"So?" Ella asks, crossing her arms. "What did you see?" The sooner Steffen gets his answers, the sooner she can leave.
"If I must..." Balu begins, hesitation flickering in her voice. "You were abandoned by your birth mother,switched for another baby. The woman who should have raised you ran away, and the hospital gave you to a stranger."
Her words hang in the air, heavy and still.
A faint shadow crosses Balu's face. She's seen countless lives through memory, but this one unsettles her in ways she doesn't want to admit. For a fleeting moment, she almost pities the girl, but she forces the feeling down. Pity has no place here, not when Ella stands between her and Steffen.
Ella huffs, unimpressed. "That's not news to me."
She's always known she was passed from one unwilling hand to another. Learning that her real mother orchestrated it only confirms what she's suspected all along. It doesn't matter. She decided long ago that no one, not her past, not anyone, gets to hold her back.
"Is that all?" Steffen asks, his voice calm but shadowed by suspicion.
"Yes," Balu replies flatly, her jaw tightening. She refuses to admit she was thrown out.
John leans back, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "So, you failed."
"So you failed," John remarks, his tone unreadable. He doesn't seem particularly affected by it. If anything, he looks... amused.
Balu's jaw tightens, her irritation flaring. "Well, my apologies, sire. I'm only a duplicate. I can't wield these powers like the original ever did," she snaps, frustration bleeding through her words. It's not just anger, it's self-loathing. No matter how long she's lived with these borrowed abilities, they still refuse to bend to her will.
"But I'm certain," she continues, her eyes locking onto Ella's retreating figure, "there's someone inside her. Someone powerful."
"As you said, you're not sure," John cuts in, unimpressed. "Sounds like a convenient excuse for your failure."
Balu shoots him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. Steffen exhales slowly, the sound heavy with exhaustion. Their rivalry is older than either of them will admit, and right now, he has no patience left for it.
"Enough. Both of you," he orders, voice low and commanding.
Then, turning to John, he adds, "Take her out."
John gives a curt nod and gestures for Ella to follow. She glances back once, confusion flickering in her eyes, before disappearing through the door with him.
The room falls silent.
Steffen shifts his attention back to Balu, studying her with the same piercing calm that unnerves even his most loyal followers. "What else did you see?"
Balu hesitates, if only for a heartbeat. "There's something inside her," she says finally. "Whoever, or whatever, it is... holds immense power. Right now she looks human, but she won't stay that way forever."
A chill ripples through her words. She remembers the force that hurled her from Ella's mind, the raw fury that laced it. It wasn't just power. It was rage.
Her throat tightens. "I'm certain that whatever's inside her will awaken soon."
Her voice drops to a whisper, heavy with dread. "And when it does..."
She meets his gaze, her fiery confidence dimming to fear.
"I fear for that day."
Outside, in the open field near the castle fountain, Ella yanks her hand free from John's grip. He stops and turns, irritation flickering across his face.
"Tell me, where's Mia?" she demands, stepping in front of him.
John doesn't answer right away. His gaze keeps darting around, his wolf instincts buzzing with unease. He's too focused on whatever trick Balu might be pulling next to care about Ella's fury.
"Where is she?" Ella snaps her fingers in front of his face, forcing his attention back to her.
John exhales sharply, rubbing his temple. "Your friend is safe. Stop worrying about her." His voice is clipped, distracted, but firm.
Ella narrows her eyes. "I don't trust your word. I need to see her myself. Take me to her."
John's jaw flexes. "Listen, girl, your friend is fine. I can't take you to her, so deal with it." His tone drops, low and warning.
Ella lets out a sharp scoff. "Do you really think you can intimidate me?" she asks, stepping closer, her chin tilting upward in defiance. "Because if you do, you're out of your mind."
She folds her arms, a smirk curling at her lips. "If I recall correctly, you're in no position to refuse my orders. I am your king's mate."
The words hang in the air like a challenge.
John stares at her, disbelief flashing in his eyes. Official or not, she bears Steffen's mark—and that alone places her above him.
"No doubt your king would seek justice for his queen if he knew his loyal man was mistreating her," she adds, her tone dripping with false sweetness. "And all I have to do is ask."
John grits his teeth, tension rolling through his shoulders. She's right, and she knows it. If Steffen caught wind of this, John's head might very well end up on a spike.
"What do you want?" he growls.
Ella's smirk widens. "Take me to Mia, and I'll let the past be the past."
John exhales through his nose, the sound sharp. "Fine. But after that, the deal's off." His tone makes it clear, he wants no more entanglement with her. The longer he stays near her, the harder it becomes to keep certain feelings buried.
"Perfect," she says brightly, brushing past him toward the waiting car.
He opens the door for her without another word, and she slides in. By the time he rounds the hood and starts the engine, she's already watching the world blur past her window.
The landscape is breathtaking, rolling hills, towering trees, and fields so green they almost glow. Wild and untouched. So unlike the suffocating cities she's used to, where steel and glass have long replaced the earth.
"Can I ask you something?" she says, breaking the silence.
John keeps his eyes on the road. "You already did."
Her lips twitch in amusement. "And even if you said no, I'd still ask."
He sighs. "Of course you would."
Ella ignores his dry response. "Balu... who is she? What's her relationship with the king?"
John's grip tightens around the steering wheel. He glances at her briefly, suspicion flickering in his eyes.
"Why do you ask?"
She shrugs, feigning nonchalance. "Just curious."
She's not jealous, definitely not. It's just... instinct. A need to know.
John studies her a moment longer before a knowing smirk curves his lips. "Are you jealous?"
Ella shoots him a glare sharp enough to cut through steel. "Why would I be jealous of someone I barely know?"
Her irritation only makes him chuckle under his breath.
"Balu is a friend of the king," he finally says. "If it helps, she's a vampire."
Ella blinks, surprised,but it's his choice of words that snags her attention.
"What kind of friend?" Her tone drops, quieter now. Hesitant, but edged with something she can't name.
John exhales slowly, sneaking another glance her way. It's obvious now, she's not asking out of casual curiosity.
"The kind of friend you keep close," he says finally, his voice softer, almost reluctant. "But not in a way that's honorable. As you humans say 'friends with benefits.'"
Ella stiffens, but she hides it well. Her expression remains composed, though the silence that follows feels heavy enough to crush the air between them.
John shakes his head, muttering under his breath, "Impossible."
"What is?" Ella asks.
He doesn't answer. There's something about her, something that tugs at his memory, but that's ridiculous. If he'd met her before, he would remember.
He forces the thought away.
"How did they meet?" Ella presses, her voice breaking through the hum of the engine.
For the first time, John's composure slips. His foot presses harder on the brake, the tires screech faintly against the gravel road.
His eyes darken.
A silence stretches, then fractures.
The Year 1920
The past waits to be told.