Heather's POV
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It was quiet.
Not peaceful.
Not warm.
Just… quiet.
A stillness so thick it pressed against my chest like ice. I didn't know where I was—or who I was—for a long time. Maybe hours. Maybe days. Maybe eternity. Time didn't work here. Not the way it did when I was alive.
Alive…
The word echoed through the void. I wasn't. Not anymore.
I remembered the machines. The cold, sterile beeping. Darrian's voice—low, trembling. And then that last moment. That final breath I couldn't catch.
And now…
I was floating.
Or falling.
It didn't matter.
There was no pain anymore, just numbness that went down to my bones. I couldn't even cry. Couldn't speak. Couldn't feel.
But then, something shifted.
A thread, thin as silk and brighter than moonlight, pulled at me. A feeling. A memory.
Not pain.
Not loss.
But love.
Darrian's arms around me. His voice whispering promises he thought I'd never hear. The way he had looked at me—like I was something precious. Something he wanted to protect.
Wanted.
I reached for that thread, fingers brushing it. And suddenly, the numbness cracked.
Not fully.
Not violently.
But like the first breath after drowning.
It hurt.
A rush of pain—memories flooding back. Screams. Chains. Marcus's laughter. The bite of silver. Mikaela's cruel words. The pack turning their backs on me. My wolf caged in silence.
And then…
My wolf.
She stirred. Slow. Hesitant.
"I'm here," I whispered, though no sound escaped my lips.
She didn't answer. But I felt her.
Somewhere in the fog.
Waiting.
She wasn't angry. She was just tired. Just like me.
I drifted through the darkness, hands out, searching. The air shimmered like broken glass. My skin didn't register warmth or cold, but something deeper. Something like instinct.
Like fate.
And then… I saw it.
A door.
Not wood. Not metal.
Light.
Pulsing.
Beckoning.
My hand reached for it, heart pounding without rhythm. Was this the way forward? Or the end?
Would Darrian be there?
Would anyone?
I didn't know.
But I couldn't stay here. I wasn't meant for this silence.
Not anymore.
The door opened.
Blinding, golden-white. I stepped through.
And the world turned red.
Fire. Screaming. Pain.
Not heaven.
Not peace.
The veil mocked me.
It dragged me back—through my own memories, but twisted, raw. I was a child again. Shackled. Alone. I screamed for my mother, but her face was bloodied, lifeless. The sound of chains echoed in the distance. Marcus's face loomed.
No one saved me.
Over and over again.
I ran, but the halls never ended. The darkness chased me like teeth. Every breath burned like smoke. My wolf whimpered behind bars I couldn't see.
"Stop…"
My voice barely reached above a whisper.
The world didn't listen.
But then… I heard his voice.
Not in my ears, but my soul.
"Hold on, Heather."
Darrian.
I dropped to my knees.
"Where are you?" I whispered, eyes burning with tears I couldn't shed.
He wasn't here. Not yet.
But I felt him.
Closer.
Fighting.
Reaching.
The bond wasn't gone. It had frayed, splintered, dulled—but something held on.
Me?
Or him?
I didn't know.
All I knew was that if he was coming for me… I had to meet him halfway.
I rose.
Trembling.
Bleeding inside.
But I walked through the fire anyway.
Because he loved me.
Because I loved him.
And because I finally wanted to live.
Even if the world said I couldn't.
Each step I took felt heavier than the last.
Like walking through tar.
Every memory dragged at me—whispers from the past trying to pull me under.
"Useless."
"Weak."
"Not fit to be Luna."
Mikaela's words stabbed deeper than any physical wound. She wasn't wrong—not then. I had been broken. I'd lived so long under Marcus's shadow that I'd forgotten how to stand in the sun.
But now I knew better.
I wasn't weak.
I had survived hell.
I was strong.
And now, I had something worth fighting for. Someone.
Darrian.
He wasn't perfect. He'd doubted me. Hurt me with his silence. Pushed me away. But he had also held me when I shook from nightmares. Given me a room full of light when my world had been made of darkness. Burned a traitor for me.
He had loved me.
Even when he didn't know how.
Even when I hadn't known how to love myself.
I pressed forward, the flames shifting around me, turning from red to silver. I wasn't just walking through my pain anymore—I was burning it away. With every step, my wolf grew stronger inside me. I could feel her rise with me, shaking off the shackles Marcus had bound her with.
We're not done, she whispered.
Not yet.
I pushed through a wall of light—and stumbled into another memory.
A field.
Golden grass.
The scent of rain and blood.
My mother.
She stood there, smiling—just like I remembered her before Marcus's wrath had taken everything. Her eyes, full of sorrow and pride, met mine. I wanted to run to her, wrap my arms around her. But something in the way she looked at me said I couldn't.
Not yet.
"You've come far, my little moon," she said softly, voice carried by the wind. "But there's still more to do."
"I'm tired," I admitted, tears welling up.
"I know. But strength doesn't come from comfort—it comes from endurance. You endured. Now rise."
A gust of wind swept through me, igniting something inside.
Hope.
Purpose.
I nodded.
One more step.
One more breath.
For Darrian.
For myself.
I turned from the past and walked toward the horizon.
And this time, the fire didn't burn me.
It lit my path.