The forest swallowed me the moment I stepped beneath its canopy.
Moonlight fractured through the branches above, silver and cold, scattering across the ground like broken glass. I moved quietly out of habit, every step careful, every breath measured. Silence had kept me alive for years. Even now, alone in the dark, I could not shake it.
I did not know where I was going.
My feet did.
That realization sent a shiver through me. I had never wandered this far alone. The pack lands thinned quickly, trees growing older and thicker, their trunks twisted with age. The air grew colder, heavier, as if the forest itself were watching.
Pack elders spoke of this place in hushed tones, usually to scare young wolves into obedience. A relic of old beliefs. A ruin best left alone. No one came here anymore, not even during sacred nights.
By the time I noticed the quiet, it was complete.
No insects. No distant howls. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
I slowed, dread creeping into my chest.
This place was forbidden. Not by law, but by fear. Elders spoke of it only in warnings, a relic of old beliefs best left untouched. No one came here anymore.
Yet my body carried me forward without hesitation.
The trees parted abruptly, revealing a wide clearing drenched in moonlight. At its center stood the temple.
It was ancient, older than the pack house, older than the borders carved into maps. Stone pillars rose from the earth, cracked and overgrown with vines. Symbols carved deep into the walls glimmered faintly, as if remembering something the world had forgotten.
My breath caught as I crossed the clearing.
The moment I stepped inside the temple ruins, the air changed. It pressed against my skin, cool and alive, raising goosebumps along my arms. The scent was unfamiliar, not forest or stone, but something deeper. Sacred.
I laughed softly, the sound brittle.
Of course I would end up somewhere I did not belong.
At the center of the ruins stood the altar, exposed to the open sky where the roof had collapsed long ago. Moonlight poured down upon it, bathing the stone in silver.
I approached slowly, heart pounding. The carvings beneath my fingertips seemed to hum faintly when I touched them, a vibration I felt more than heard.
"This is stupid," I whispered.
The Moon Goddess did not answer humans. That was what they said. She chose wolves. Bound them. Blessed them.
Humans were tolerated at best.
Still, I lowered myself to my knees.
I had not come with a plan. Only desperation. Years of silence and endurance had brought me here, to this moment where standing still felt more dangerous than risking everything.
"I don't want to belong to them anymore," I said quietly.
My voice echoed back, small and fragile.
"I don't want to disappear."
My hands shook as I reached into my cloak and pulled out the small kitchen blade I had taken weeks ago without knowing why. It felt heavier now, cold and real in my grip.
"I know I'm not wanted," I continued, staring at the altar. "I know I'm weak. I know I don't matter to them."
My throat tightened.
"But I matter to myself."
The words surprised me.
I pressed the blade to my palm.
Pain flared sharp and immediate as I dragged it across my skin. Blood welled quickly, dripping onto the ancient stone. I hissed softly, clenching my teeth as my vision blurred.
The moment my blood touched the altar, the air shifted.
A low hum resonated through the temple, vibrating beneath my knees. The carved symbols flared faintly, glowing silver before dimming again.
My heart lurched.
"I offer what little I am," I whispered, panic creeping in now. "Please. Let me go. Cut whatever binds me to them. I don't want fate. I don't want mates. I don't want a place that hurts."
The sky answered.
Thunder cracked overhead, violent and sudden, shaking the ground beneath me. I cried out as the earth trembled, the force knocking me backward onto the stone floor. Wind tore through the clearing, whipping my hair loose.
Lightning split the sky, blinding white.
Pain exploded through my body.
Not sharp like the cut on my palm, but vast and consuming, as if something deep inside me was tearing open. I screamed, my back arching as heat surged through my veins. My heartbeat thundered wildly, drowning out everything else.
The world went white.
For a moment, I thought this was death.
Then the pain shifted.
It softened, becoming something warmer. Heavier. Like a presence settling into place after a long absence.
The storm faded as suddenly as it had come.
Silence returned.
Moonlight spilled down once more, brighter than before, soaking into my skin, my bones, and my breath. I lay there, gasping, my body trembling as the aftershocks rippled through me.
When I tried to move, my limbs responded easily.
Too easily.
Confusion surged as I pushed myself upright. My heart still raced, but it felt steady. Strong. I lifted my injured hand, bracing myself.
The cut was gone.
I stared at my palm in disbelief. No blood. No wound. Not even a scar.
"That's not possible," I whispered.
I flexed my fingers slowly. There was no pain. Only warmth. Strength.
Something was wrong.
Or something had finally gone right.
The world around me felt different. Sharper. Louder. I could hear water dripping from leaves far beyond the clearing. Smell damp earth and stone, layered and vivid.
My breath caught.
"I'm not human," I whispered.
The truth settled heavily in my chest, terrifying and undeniable.
The altar behind me pulsed faintly one last time, then went still, as if satisfied.
Fear twisted in my stomach.
I did not wait for answers.
The forest no longer felt threatening. It felt watchful. I turned and ran, heart pounding as my feet carried me back into the trees.
I did not look back.
Far beyond the pack's borders, something ancient had stirred.
And much closer than I realized, the world had already begun to notice what had changed.