The forest whispered her name.
Selene.
It was no longer just a dream, no longer a ghost of a memory she doubted. It was a truth singing in her blood, howling in the marrow of her bones.
Selene.
She let the name settle on her tongue as she walked beside Lucien. It felt… right. More right than anything had in years.
They said nothing at first. The silence between them wasn't awkward—it was full, humming with unsaid things. Birds called distantly. The crunch of fallen leaves under their boots was the only rhythm. Until they reached the clearing.
The cabin Lucien called home stood proud among the trees—old but well kept, made from dark wood and stone. A single red banner fluttered beside the door: a silver crescent over a black wolf's head. The mark of House Wolfe, he'd told her.
The scent of pine and smoke wrapped around her as he opened the door and let her in.
"Make yourself comfortable," he said. "There's tea, if you want something warm."
She nodded and stepped inside, taking in the space. It was simple—clean, masculine. A few books lined the shelves. Weapons hung on the wall. There was a fire already going in the hearth, crackling softly.
Lucien busied himself in the kitchen, giving her space.
Selene stood before the fireplace, her eyes fixed on the flames. The flickering light painted golden shadows on the stone, and in it she saw glimpses of another fire—one from long ago. One that had consumed a great hall. That had turned warriors to ash and left wolves howling in agony.
Her throat tightened.
Lucien returned with two mugs. "It's blackberry leaf and sage. Good for grounding."
She took the cup, grateful for the distraction. "Do I… like this?" she asked, frowning at the unfamiliar smell.
He chuckled. "You used to drink it before battle. Said it cleared your head."
She hesitated, then sipped.
It was bitter. But somehow comforting.
Selene took a seat on the edge of the leather couch. "Start from the beginning. No riddles this time. No half-truths. Just everything."
Lucien nodded, his face hardening—not in anger, but in preparation. Like he was peeling off armor.
"You were born over two hundred years ago," he said. "In a time when the bloodlines still ruled openly. Before the humans drove us into the shadows."
She blinked. "Two hundred—"
"You were the daughter of the Silvermoon Alpha. The only child. Your birth was prophesied by the seers—marked by the moon, born under eclipse. Fated to unite the fractured clans and bring balance to the packs."
Selene's fingers tightened around her mug.
"You were powerful," he continued. "Not just in strength, but spirit. Fierce. Loyal. Untamable. You challenged every law that kept our kind chained to tradition."
"And the betrayal?"
Lucien's jaw clenched. "Your council turned on you. Claimed you were dangerous. That the prophecy made you a threat. They said you were drawing too much power from the moon, that your soul was... too wild."
"They killed me."
"They tried."
Her breath hitched.
"You were ambushed in your court. Poisoned. Your wolf tried to fight through it but—" He looked away. "I got there too late. You were dying."
"And then?"
"Our seers tried to save your soul. Maera led the ritual. She scattered your spirit across time, bound you to the human realm. Gave you a chance to be reborn. Hidden."
"And you?"
Lucien's voice dropped. "I stayed behind. Swore I'd find you. No matter how long it took."
Her heart stung.
"How did you recognize me?" she asked softly.
"The bond." His eyes met hers. "It never broke. It twisted, frayed, but it never snapped. When I saw you in Halewood… I knew."
She stared at the fire again. "I dreamed of you before we met."
"I know. I dreamed of you every full moon."
She blinked rapidly. "So what happens now?"
"That depends on you."
He knelt in front of her, setting his mug aside.
"You're not fully awakened yet. The memories are just fragments. Your power is still buried. But it's close. I can feel it."
She swallowed thickly. "And when I'm… whole again?"
He hesitated.
"You'll have a choice. Stay here. Live quietly. Or take your place back among the bloodlines. As the rightful Alpha."
"And be hunted."
"And be remembered," he said. "Not as a lost girl, but as Selene. The Wolf Queen."
She let the silence stretch. Her hands trembled, not from fear, but from weight. From pressure. From knowing she'd asked for the truth, and now it was carving her open.
"I need time," she whispered.
"You have it," Lucien said. "But not much. Word will spread. They'll know you've returned."
"Then teach me," she said suddenly. "Help me remember. Train me, if you have to. But I won't be helpless when they come."
A shadow of a smile tugged at his lips.
"There's the Selene I knew."
---
The next week passed in a blur of pain, memory, and rebirth.
Lucien didn't coddle her. He didn't hold back. Every morning, he led her deep into the forest, where no human dared to tread. They trained in clearing and shadow, pushing her mind and body until she ached in places she didn't know existed.
"You're too soft," he said, catching her arm during a spar. "Stop thinking like a human. Move like a wolf."
"I'm not a wolf yet," she growled, shoving him off.
"Then wake her up."
It was brutal.
It was liberating.
She learned how to fight—again. Muscle memory slowly returning. She struck harder. Moved faster. She began hearing things no one else could—footsteps miles away, heartbeats behind walls. Her senses sharpened. Her reflexes burned. And with each day, the girl named Sera faded, and the wolf named Selene grew stronger.
At night, she dreamed.
Sometimes of war.
Sometimes of love.
Sometimes of Lucien.
She woke shaking, gasping, crying. And Lucien was always there. He never touched her unless she asked. Never pushed.
But his presence became a tether.
A comfort.
And that terrified her most of all.
---
One night, after a particularly brutal session, she collapsed on the cabin floor, too exhausted to move. Lucien tossed her a cold cloth, then dropped beside her.
"You're improving," he said.
"I still can't shift."
"It'll come."
"When?"
He shrugged. "When your soul's ready. You've spent twenty years in human skin. Your wolf is buried deep."
She closed her eyes. "Sometimes I feel her. Clawing at the inside of my chest."
"She's angry."
"I don't blame her."
Lucien watched her for a moment. "Do you blame me?"
She turned her head.
"I blamed you in the dreams. I remembered you leaving me."
"I didn't leave. I was pulled away. They bound me during the attack."
"I know that now," she whispered. "But part of me is still afraid. That you'll vanish again. That this is temporary."
Lucien's voice dropped low.
"Selene, I waited two centuries for you. There's nothing temporary about that."
The silence between them stretched like silk.
And slowly, she reached for his hand.
Their fingers touched.
And in that simple gesture, the air changed. A hum, like static, rippled between them. A bond not formed—but reforged.
Lucien leaned closer. His golden eyes searched hers. "Do you feel it now?"
She nodded.
"It scares me."
"Good," he whispered. "The truth should."
---
The next morning, she shifted.
It came without warning.
One moment, she was meditating in the clearing. The next, her body cracked and burned, bones reshaping, skin tearing, pain spiraling through her like wildfire.
She screamed.
Then she howled.
When it was over, she stood on four legs, her coat pure silver under the sun.
Lucien, in wolf form, stepped beside her—a massive black beast with golden eyes.
They circled each other. Touched noses. Then ran.
Through forest, across river, under moonlight.
Free.
Whole.
Together.
---
They returned to the cabin as the sun rose, both exhausted but elated. She collapsed onto the floor, laughing breathlessly.
"I did it," she said. "I really did it."
Lucien grinned. "Told you she was ready."
Then Maera appeared in the doorway.
And the smile vanished.
"There's no more time," she said. "They've found her."