Chapter 6
Aurora
"Let me give you some advice," she said, voice soft, almost kind. "Moonbound has rules. Spoken and unspoken. You're new. That's fine. We've all been there."
I blinked. “Okay…?"
"But Zayn?" Her eyes darkened a shade. "He's not a part of your world. You're not part of his. So stay away from him, okay?"
I felt the words like a second punch to the stomach. Cold and calculated.
"I wasn't trying—"
She held up a hand, perfectly manicured fingers catching the light.
"I'm not here to fight you," she said, her tone still maddeningly polite. "I'm just letting you know—for your own sake—it's best if you stay in your lane."
I stared at her.
She stared right back.
Then, just like that, she smiled again. "Have a good night, Aurora."
She turned and walked down the hall like she owned it—shoulders back, spine straight, long hair catching the glow of the sconces like a silver wave.
And I just stood there.
Frozen.
Twice in one night, I'd been told I didn't belong.
Once by someone who didn't even know what I was.
And once by someone who clearly did.
When I finally made it back to the dorm, the fire was low and the girls were already tucked in, the soft murmur of breathing and the rustle of blankets the only sounds in the room.
I climbed into my bed, heart still racing, and pulled the covers tight around me. I was exhausted. Physically and emotionally. I just wanted this day to be over.
The forest was on fire.
But not the burning kind—it glowed, soft and golden, sliding through the trees like it was meant to be there. The leaves didn’t shrivel, the bark didn’t char—it just stayed, like it had no plans to leave.
I was barefoot on moss that felt too warm, like it remembered summer even though the air was crisp.
Somewhere ahead, a wolf howled.
I turned, instinct pulling me toward the sound, even though I didn't understand why. Everything felt heavy—like I was moving through thick water instead of
air. The sky above me had no stars. Just a full moon so large it bled silver light across the treetops.
Then I saw them.
Eyes.
Dozens of them.
Glowing from between the trees. Some amber, some red, and one pair—storm gray—fixed on me like I was prey.
The forest split open, the trees parting like curtains, revealing a massive, dark-furred beast standing in the clearing. Its eyes burned with fury and sadness all at once.
And then it turned and started going in the opposite direction, expecting me to follow it. And I did.
Its massive paws made no sound as it moved through the firelit underbrush, and the golden flames parted for it like old friends. I didn’t think. I just moved – drawn forward by something older than logic, deeper than memory.
We reached a clearing. At the edge of it stood a bridge—ancient, arched, and made of stone that glowed faintly with moss and moonlight. It hung over a river I hadn’t heard until now.
Water whispered fast beneath us in a language I couldn’t understand.
And there, in the very center of the bridge, was a wooden cradle.
A baby lay inside it. Swaddled in a pale blue blanket, no older than two months. Her chest rose and fell slowly, her skin soft and untouched by the cold. She didn’t cry. She just looked at me wide-eyed, unblinking.
Something broke inside me.
I ran.
I didn’t think about why. I just knew—knew—I had to reach her.
But the moment my foot touched the first stone of the bridge, everything shattered.
The world folded in on itself.
The trees went dark.
The fire winked out.
The sky split open.
And I was falling.
Not down, not really. Through.
Through branches that clawed but didn’t scratch. I fell past echoes—laughter, sobbing, lullabies, and growling teeth.
I opened my eyes. I was back in the forest.
The trees were whispering again.
I was barefoot again. The moss beneath my feet pulsed faintly, like it had a heartbeat of its own. The scent of pine and smoke filled my lungs.
I took a step forward, unsure why. The forest felt ancient. Watching. Waiting.
Then I heard it.
A howl.
Low and lonely, curling through the trees like a memory. It didn't scare me, exactly—it pulled at something deep in my chest, something unfamiliar. Like I should recognize it, but I didn't.
A second howl answered it.
This one was closer.
Then came the sound of paws—heavy ones crunching leaves just beyond the reach of the firelight. I turned, but the shadows were thick, wrapping around the trees like vines. My heart started to race. I wasn't alone.
Something was behind me.
I ran.
The ground blurred beneath me. Trees streaked past. The air turned colder and sharper, and behind me I could still hear the footsteps—closer now. A growl rumbled low in the dark.
Then, suddenly, I stopped.
Not by choice.
Something had stepped out in front of me.
A figure—not fully human and not fully beast. Towering. Muscled. Shadowed. I couldn't see its face, but its eyes—its eyes were a stormy gray that burned through the darkness.
And then, in a voice both ancient and familiar, it whispered:
"You are not theirs. You never were. The bridge was the offering, and the woods do not forget what
was promised."
The dream shattered like glass.
I gasped awake, sitting up so fast I nearly fell from the bed.
My heart thundered. My throat was dry. The fire in the room had gone out, and a chill clung to the air like fog. The dream still echoed in my bones. The gray eyes. The forest. The spoken words.
I rubbed my face and exhaled.
"It wasn't real," I whispered to myself. "It was just a dream, a confusing, fucked-up dream. But just a dream.“
But it hadn't felt like one. Not even a little.