Aurora didn't sleep.
She may have closed her eyes for a few minutes, or longer, but her body never let go. As if she were trying to rest on something ready to snap. Her senses remained keen enough to wake her at any sound, real or imagined.
As the thin light of early morning slipped between the trees, she rose up again.
Her limbs felt heavier, but she was more clear-headed. That helped her a little.
She scanned the clearing. It looked the same as it had the night before. Still. Empty. No footprints but hers. No signs of the thing that had spoken. Or seemingly touched her. Or whatever that had been.
But she didn't feel alone.
Not in a paranoid way — in a physical one. The forest held a tension she couldn't shake, as though something was buried under the soil, waiting.
She did not want to wait.
So she moved.
Step by step, she moved further into the forest.
The air became chilly again, and the sunlight faded. The land sloped gradually down. The trees became taller and older. The bark looked darker here. Smoother but somehow. She saw things more clearly now, particularly how the branches didn't even bend in the wind. The moss on the trunks shone a bit.
She moved cautiously, ducking beneath tangled branches and brushing away ferns that curled slightly as she passed. The silence wasn't dead. It was somewhat restrained.
Her stomach turned at the thought, but her feet didn't stop.
Something was pulling her.
A soft persistent pressure in her chest. It guided her without direction. No voice. No words. Just the same pressure she'd felt the moment before the forest changed.
And the moment she heard that whisper.
She paused near a shallow stream, letting the water trickle over her toes. Her feet were scratched raw. She should've stopped to rest, but rest didn't feel like an option anymore.
She crouched and splashed her face.
The cold shocked her. Woke her up more than she expected.
She looked at her reflection in the water. Her face looked pale, gaunt. There were smudges of dried blood on her neck — likely from when she'd fallen, or maybe from the thorns. But her eyes caught her attention most.
They looked wrong.
Still hers, but different. Brighter. Sharper.
Her wolf stared back at them. Awake and alert.
"I don't know what we're walking into," she whispered to herself. "But we're not walking out the same."
The wind shifted.
She stood quickly and turned.
This time, the air was moving. Leaves rustled. Branches swayed. The breeze rolled in from the west — the direction she'd been walking toward. But there was no scent on it. No trail. Just force.
Her wolf stirred beneath her skin. Not frightened. More braced.
She followed the wind.
The trees bent with it, opening with just enough space to let her through.
She kept walking.
The tightness in her chest increased, becoming more noticeable. It seemed as if something was drawing her forward.
Then she saw it again.
That tiny red glow appeared ahead, through a breach in the woods.
Not strong.
Not wide.
Just there. Waiting.
Aurora moved closer to the red light.
It flashed through the trees now, more steadily than before. It wasn't flashing, just shining, as if it knew she'd arrive eventually.
The forest grew still again — too still.
Her breath caught. The quiet wasn't like before. This wasn't ordinary silence. This was prey-silence. She froze mid-step, her instinct kicked in too late.
A branch snapped.
Not hers.
Behind her.
She spun.
Nothing. No figure. No eyes. Just the dark, and that awful breathless quiet.
Then another snap—closer, to her left.
The wind died.
She backed up, hands trembling, heart slamming.
The next sound wasn't a snap.
It was a growl.
Her wolf surged forward inside her, panicked now. Not curious. Not steady. Afraid.
Aurora turned and ran.
She didn't think. She didn't look.
She just moved.
Roots tore at her legs. Branches whipped her arms. The red light vanished behind her. All she heard was breathing — not hers — chasing her through the trees.
A snarl broke the air behind her, vicious and sharp. Too close.
She needed to shift and she really tried to but her body wouldn't let her. Her limbs wouldn't respond. It was like something had wrapped around her, binding her in human form.
Not now, she begged internally. Not now!
The ground dipped — she stumbled, fell, and hit the forest floor hard.
And in the same breath, it lunged.
She felt the air change, like something massive cut through it behind her. She turned her head just in time to see a blur — dark, hulking, wolf-like creature — just feet away, leaping toward her.
Her scream caught in her throat.
Then nothing.
No impact.
No weight.
No pain.
Just a thud — behind her — and a furious snarl.
She blinked.
The creature was no longer focused on her.
It was fighting something invisible, powerful. The thing snarled again, louder this time, but it sounded… off. Weaker.
Aurora pushed herself up slowly, watching in stunned silence.
Something unseen tugged the rogue wolf backward. Its claws raked the ground, kicking up leaves in an attempt to resist, but it failed.
A raged hiss rumbled through the clearing and then it was gone.
Silence returned.
She was alone again.
But not really.
She could feel the same presence — the one that had whispered to her before — had stepped in again. Closer this time. Much closer.
She turned.
The red light had returned — brighter now, just a few yards away.
And beside it, where the creature had vanished, there was heat.
Real heat. Radiating from the air itself.
Aurora took a shaky step toward it.
The moment she did, her skin tingled and the back of her neck buzzed. Her lips parted on instinct, breath shallow.
She wasn't alone.
The air around her pulsed, warm and electric. Not harsh. Almost… possessive.
And then she heard the voice again. Not in her ear, but in her chest.
"Mine."
Her legs weakened. A rush moved through her, a pulse deep in her body, sharp and sudden.
She grabbed a tree for balance.
"No…" she whispered, but it came out as breath, not resistance.
The red light flared.
And then the ground beneath her shifted again.
She gasped as the world tilted — and the crimson light pulled her forward.
Aurora woke gasping.
Not from pain. From heat.
A wave of warmth crept across her skin, slow and steady. She squinted against the hazy red light that surrounded her. It seeped through the air like mist, and made it difficult to know where the earth stopped and the sky started.
Was there actually a sky?
She sat up and groaned gently.
Her pulse quickened.
She looked down.
She was still wearing what was left of her dress from the ceremony. Barefoot. Partly dirty. Her skin was marked with dried blood, soil, and scratches — but there was something else too.
A shimmer.
A small scarlet light shone over her collarbone, just under her skin, as if something had been carved there and sealed inside her body.
She reached for it, but her fingers twitched and froze.
Because something else was touching her.
Soft. Gentle. Ghostlike.
It slid along her ankle — up the curve of her calf, then behind her knee. Her breath caught in her throat. She whipped her head around.
No one.
Nothing.
But the touch didn't stop.
It wasn't breeze.
It wasn't her mind playing tricks.
It was real and it was climbing higher.
A shiver rolled through her, unbidden, hot and electric. Her thighs tensed instinctively. Her wolf stirred inside her, startled and alert.
She wasn't in danger.
She was being explored.
The air thickened around her. Warmth pressed against her back, neck, and waist all at once. It felt like a presence circling her without form, brushing against her skin, and memorizing her shape.
She tried to speak, but her lips parted without sound.
Then came the whisper—not a sound exactly, but a pulse. A deep, vibrating word that thudded straight into her chest:
"Mine."
Her legs trembled.
Something slick and invisible curled behind her ear, then down her throat, over her collarbone. She gasped, arching slightly before she could stop herself.
This wasn't like being just watched.
It felt like he was learning her body by touch alone.
"Who…" she rasped, barely above a whisper, "what are you?"
No answer.
Just another breath across her shoulder.
She fully felt his presence now.
It was masculine, heavy and hungry.
Once more, her body betrayed her, as a low, traitorous ache began to bloom in her stomach and pool deeper.
She squeezed her legs together.
This wasn't right.
She didn't know him.
She couldn't even see him.
But her body wanted to be touched. Needed it, even. Her wolf whimpered low inside her and it wasn't from fear. It was out of frustration and craving.
Then came the voice again — this time directly in her mind:
"I felt your pain. I heard your cry. And now, you're in my domain."
Her hands clenched in her lap. Her breath came fast. Too fast.
The touch receded suddenly, leaving her cold and stunned.
She blinked, chest rising and falling.
And then silence returned.
The glow dimmed.
Whatever had been there… it stepped back but didn't leave.
She could still feel it watching and waiting.