The sun rose red.
Adriana stood on the balcony of the estate, a silk robe wrapped around her, the wind tousling her hair. Her fingers gripped the stone railing as she watched the forest stretch endlessly below. Somewhere out there, the whispers were waiting. The ones that had begun plaguing her dreams.
Each night since the battle, she'd heard them—soft, seductive murmurs in a language she didn't speak, yet somehow understood. Magic pulsed inside her, growing stronger, louder.
Behind her, the door opened.
Adrian entered, shirtless, his presence both comforting and sharp.
"You didn't sleep," he said.
Adriana didn't look at him. "Couldn't. The whispers are louder now."
He came to stand beside her, arms brushing. "You need rest."
She turned to face him, her eyes holding a strange glow. "You need to stop pretending everything's okay."
His jaw tensed.
Adriana touched his chest. "You're afraid. Not of me—of what this means."
"I'm not afraid," he lied.
"You used to touch me like you couldn't help it. Now you hold back, like you're waiting for me to explode."
"I'm being careful. You've changed."
"So have you."
He looked away, silent.
The tension stretched, thin and dangerous.
Then Adrian said, "There's something I haven't told you. About the war coming."
Adriana's pulse quickened. "War?"
He nodded. "The Vampiric Syndicate has broken the treaty. They've allied with rogue witches. They're coming for our lands."
"And for me," Adriana guessed.
"Yes. You're the key to everything. Your power isn't just rare—it's ancient. They want to control it. Or kill you to stop it."
Adriana felt a deep chill. "What are we going to do?"
Adrian's eyes turned to silver. "We fight."
That afternoon, the war council met in the den. Leaders of the neighboring packs, warriors, and elders surrounded the large table, maps and scrolls spread out like battle scars. Adriana sat beside Adrian, trying to appear calm.
Elias pointed at the map. "They'll strike from the east. If we don't fortify the valley by the solstice, we're screwed."
Mirelle added, "And the girl must not fall into their hands. Her blood will awaken spells sealed for centuries."
Adriana frowned. "I'm not just a tool."
"No one thinks that," Adrian snapped, his voice dark.
But Adriana noticed no one disagreed.
After the meeting, Adriana wandered outside alone, her mind heavy. She needed clarity. She needed to breathe.
She walked deep into the woods, following a strange pull in her chest. Deeper. Farther. Until she came upon a small ruin, a crumbled stone circle veiled in moss and fog.
In the center, a single rose bloomed.
She knelt, touching it.
And the world shifted.
Flashes of a memory—not hers—rushed in. A woman in white robes. A fire-lit ritual. A child born with light in her veins. A promise made to the gods to protect or destroy.
Then a voice whispered:
"It begins with fire. It ends with choice."
Adriana gasped, stumbling back.
A shadow emerged from the trees.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" the stranger said.
She turned sharply. A tall man with crimson eyes and silver hair stepped forward. He wore a cloak of night and moved like smoke.
"Who are you?" she asked, backing up.
"A messenger. From those who understand you better than your mate ever could."
Her heart pounded. "Stay away."
But he only smiled. "Adriana, you are more than wolf. More than witch. You are the spark of a dying star. Your place is not beside a beast, but above the realm itself."
Before she could speak, Adrian arrived—furious and glowing with power.
His growl shook the earth. "Get away from her!"
The stranger chuckled. "You're too late, Alpha. She's already seen it."
Adrian lunged, claws out—but the stranger vanished in a whirl of shadows.
Adriana collapsed into Adrian's arms, shaken.
He held her tight. "What did he say to you?"
"Nothing that makes sense." A lie. "He was just trying to scare me."
But her voice trembled, and he knew.
Back at the estate, Adrian paced the room, fists clenched.
"I shouldn't have let you out alone. This is my fault."
Adriana touched his hand. "I'm not a child. I have to face what's coming."
His eyes softened. "You don't have to do it alone."
"I won't. But you have to let me be strong."
He cupped her face, forehead pressed to hers. "Just don't forget who you are. And who we are."
She leaned into him, lips brushing his. "Then remind me."
Their kiss was slow, desperate, the kind that came from fear of losing something precious. His hands mapped her skin, hers tangled in his hair. That night, they clung to each other like the world might split apart.
But in Adriana's dreams, the rose bloomed again.
And the choice waited.
Burn the world.
Or save it.