Selara moved carefully through the forest at dawn, her muscles sore but her senses sharper than ever. Frost still clung to the earth in delicate patterns, sparkling as sunlight filtered through the branches, but she did not slow to admire it. Beauty meant nothing if it distracted her. Survival demanded attention, and the forest had already proven it would punish carelessness without mercy.
Every step echoed with memory.
The scouts.
The hunters.
The Alpha who watched from the shadows.
Each encounter had carved something into her—strength, yes, but also restraint. Her spark no longer flared wildly at every threat. It pulsed with purpose now, low and steady, like a heartbeat that did not belong to her alone.
Something deeper stirred beneath that rhythm.
"Not just a trial…" Selara murmured, flexing her claws as she moved. "Something else."
The air felt heavier here, charged in a way she could not yet name. The forest pressed close, not hostile, but intent—as though guiding her steps while testing her resolve. She followed the pull without fully understanding why, trusting the instinct that had kept her alive this long.
Then a howl cut through the morning quiet.
Selara froze.
It was distant, restrained, and carried none of the aggression she had come to expect. Instead, it tugged at her chest, awakening something achingly familiar. Her ears flicked forward, heart tightening.
She turned toward it and began to move.
The forest thinned gradually, trees giving way to a small clearing bathed in pale light. What stopped her short was not the open space—but the markings etched into the ground.
Symbols spiraled through the earth, curling and interlocking in patterns that glowed faintly silver, as though lit from beneath the soil itself. They pulsed softly, in time with the rhythm in her chest.
Selara's breath caught.
She had seen shapes like these before—half-remembered images from childhood dreams, dismissed as stories or imagination. Standing here now, she knew better.
"These aren't just marks," she whispered.
"No," came a quiet voice behind her. "They are echoes."
Selara turned sharply.
Aris stood at the edge of the clearing, balanced on a low branch with ease that belied his age. His gaze rested on the symbols with reverence rather than surprise.
"You have found a place tied to your blood," he continued. "Few ever do. Fewer still survive long enough to understand what it means."
Her throat tightened. "My blood?"
"Yes." Aris stepped down, approaching the symbols slowly. "Your lineage is older than the pack you were born into. Older than Kael's authority. Your family once walked as conduits between the forest and the Lunas who lived within it."
Selara stared at the glowing earth. "Then why was I treated as weak?"
"Because dormant power frightens those who only understand dominance," Aris said simply. "And because the forest does not awaken bloodlines unless the world demands it."
The symbols brightened as Selara stepped closer. Warmth spread through her chest, deeper than anything she had felt before. Her spark responded eagerly, unfurling like something long restrained.
"Teach me," she said, without hesitation.
Aris nodded once. "Then listen."
He guided her to the center of the clearing. "Power is not taken," he said. "It is answered. Close your eyes."
Selara obeyed.
The forest rushed in around her—not sound, but presence. Roots beneath the soil. Creatures burrowed and hidden. Wind threading through branches. Life layered upon life, bound by something vast and unseen.
Her spark stirred, reaching outward.
At first, the sensation overwhelmed her. Too much movement. Too many voices. Her breath hitched, power spiking dangerously.
"Control," Aris murmured. "Do not grasp. Allow."
She loosened her hold.
The chaos softened. Patterns emerged. The forest did not roar—it hummed. And within that hum, Selara found her place.
Her eyes flew open as the symbols flared brightly, silver light surging up her legs and into her chest. The spark within her blazed—not wild, not consuming—but aligned.
Then the forest screamed.
Selara spun just as shadows poured into the clearing.
They were not ordinary hunters. Their forms were heavier, movements deliberate, eyes glowing with intent sharpened by purpose rather than hunger.
Aris stepped back. "This fight is yours."
The first attacker lunged.
Selara moved before thought could catch up, body guided by instinct refined by awareness. She felt the strike before it came, twisted aside, and countered with a controlled burst of energy that slammed into her opponent's chest.
He staggered, stunned.
She did not hesitate.
The fight unfolded like nothing she had ever experienced—less chaos, more flow. She sensed attacks seconds before they landed, her spark responding with precision rather than force. The forest itself seemed to shift with her, shadows bending, ground firm beneath her paws.
Pain still came. Claws grazed her side. Teeth snapped close enough to feel breath.
But she endured.
One by one, the attackers withdrew, unwilling to press further against something they no longer understood.
Silence returned slowly.
Selara dropped to one knee, chest heaving, but her spark remained steady—bright, contained, alive.
Aris approached, eyes gleaming. "You have taken your first true step."
Selara lifted her gaze to the symbols, now dimming beneath the soil. "They'll come again."
"Yes," Aris said. "And next time, they will not underestimate you."
Her jaw set.
Let them come.
The forest no longer tested her to break her.
It was shaping her—for what waited beyond its edge.
Selara remained kneeling long after the last shadow dissolved into the trees.
The clearing felt different now—quieter, heavier, as if the forest itself were holding its breath. The symbols beneath the soil had dimmed, but their echo lingered inside her, etched into muscle and marrow alike. Her spark no longer felt like something foreign stirring in her chest. It felt… claimed.
Earned.
She rose slowly, testing her balance. Fatigue weighed on her limbs, yet beneath it ran a current of strength she had never known before—steadier, deeper, and far more dangerous. When she inhaled, the air seemed to respond, brushing against her senses like a living thing.
Aris watched her carefully. "Do you feel it?"
"Yes," Selara replied without hesitation. "But I don't fully understand it."
A faint smile touched his lips. "Good. Understanding comes later. Awareness must come first."
He gestured toward the edge of the clearing. "Walk."
She did—and stopped abruptly.
The forest had changed.
Paths she had not noticed before revealed themselves, subtle shifts in terrain and energy that guided her feet without conscious thought. She could sense distance now—not in steps, but in intent. She knew where danger lingered, where life clustered, where silence meant watchfulness rather than peace.
"This is what it means to awaken your lineage," Aris said. "Not dominance. Not command. Alignment."
Selara clenched her hands slowly. "Then why does it feel like I'm being hunted?"
Aris's gaze sharpened. "Because you are."
The weight of his words settled heavily between them.
"You crossed a threshold tonight," he continued. "The forest knows you. And so do forces that exist far beyond your former pack. Some will seek to control what you are becoming. Others will seek to erase it."
Selara's ears flattened. "Kael?"
"Eventually," Aris said. "But he is not your greatest concern. Power does not attract only those who once wronged you—it attracts those who fear losing what they already hold."
A distant tremor rolled through the ground, subtle but unmistakable.
Selara felt it instantly.
Her spark reacted, not flaring—but tightening, like a blade being drawn.
"That wasn't hunters," she said quietly.
"No," Aris agreed. "That was a warning."
From somewhere deep within the forest came a sound unlike any she had heard before—low, resonant, ancient. It was not a howl, nor a growl, but something closer to a call.
Recognition stirred in her chest.
Whatever had made that sound knew her now.
Aris stepped back, expression grave. "You cannot remain here. Not tonight."
Selara lifted her chin. "I won't run."
"You will move," he corrected. "There is a difference."
He pointed toward a narrow path veiled by dense brush. "Follow that trail until the forest thins and the land hardens. There are places even watchers hesitate to tread."
"And you?" she asked.
Aris's gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than before. "My role is finished—for now. From this point forward, your survival depends on your choices alone."
The forest shifted again, closer this time.
Selara did not argue. She inclined her head once, a gesture of respect earned rather than given, then turned toward the path.
As she stepped into the shadows, her spark pulsed—not with fear, but with anticipation.
Something powerful was moving.
Something old.
And for the first time since her exile, Selara did not feel small beneath its gaze.
She felt ready.