The journey to the Wyrdwood took two days.
Kael moved through the forest like he was part of it — silent, sharp, attuned to every sound. I followed close behind, half-listening to the world around us, half-lost in the swirl of questions in my head. What was I? Why me? What had that vision truly meant?
By the second night, the woods began to change.
The trees grew taller, darker — their branches knotted like bones. The air grew thick, humming with something old. Something alive.
"This is the edge," Kael said as we reached a clearing rimmed by twisted black trees. "Once we pass through, we're under their law."
"The witches?"
He nodded. "They're not like the ones in stories. They don't fly on brooms or boil potions. They speak to the moon and shape the truth. They see things we can't."
"And they'll help us?"
"They might," he said. "If the blood in your veins is as old as I think."
We stepped into the Wyrdwood.
The instant my foot crossed the threshold, the world tilted.
It felt like stepping into another realm — one where time unraveled and rethreaded itself differently. The wind whispered my name. The shadows watched me. Every leaf seemed to listen.
After an hour of walking in silence, the path ended at a circle of stones, glowing faintly with lunar light.
Then, they appeared.
Three figures, cloaked in grey and silver, rose from the trees like mist. Faces hidden. Eyes bright as stars.
"You brought her," one said. Female, ancient.
"She called to the moon," another said. "The bond is forming."
"Do you know what you carry, child of two worlds?" the third asked, stepping closer to me. Her voice echoed inside my bones.
"I don't know anything," I whispered. "But I need to."
They moved in unison, circling me. One brushed a finger over my temple, sending sparks down my spine. Another placed a hand over my heart.
"She burns," one murmured. "With the Alpha's fire."
"But also the Shadow's silence," another said.
I flinched. "What does that mean?"
The third witch raised her head, her hood slipping back to reveal eyes like ink — black and endless. "You were not supposed to survive the Bite."
Kael stepped forward, growling low in his throat. "She didn't just survive. She conquered it."
The witch ignored him. "The First Alpha's mark is in her blood. But so is the Other."
I swallowed. "The Other?"
They didn't answer.
Instead, they lifted their hands, and the circle of stones erupted in light.
A vision unfolded before us — not on the stone, but in the air itself. A shimmering memory.
A man, cloaked in fur, his eyes burning white. The First Alpha. At his side, a woman — cloaked in black vines, her gaze sharp as daggers.
"She was his mate," the witch said. "A daughter of the old world. Witch-born. Shadow-marked."
I stared. "A witch and a wolf?"
"They were forbidden. But their union created a child. One hidden. Protected. A child of prophecy."
The image shifted — a baby swaddled in silver silk, crying beneath a blood-red moon.
Me?
Kael's hand touched my shoulder, grounding me.
"You are the descendant," the witch whispered. "The last of the bloodline that was erased."
"But why does Ronan care?" I asked. "Why does it matter?"
"Because if you ascend, the packs will bow. Or burn," she said. "And he does not intend to bow."
My heart raced. "Ascend?"
"To your true nature. To the throne that was buried in bone and silence."
Kael stepped closer, voice steady but strained. "Can she survive it?"
The witches all turned to me.
"That is up to her."
The light vanished. The clearing dimmed. And the weight of a thousand years settled on my shoulders.
"You must choose," the lead witch said. "Run from what you are… or rise into it."
"Whatever happens," Kael murmured, "I won't let you do it alone."
And I believed him.
But the witches had said something else — something they hadn't spoken aloud but had bled into my bones.
If I rose… I wouldn't just change the packs.
I might destroy them.