Rian's POV
The book was ancient, its leather cover cracked and worn, yet it hummed with a strange warmth beneath my fingertips. I had returned to the hidden library alone after Mira had gone to fetch more cookies. My fingers traced the sigil etched into the spine—an ornate symbol that matched the one from my vision. A twisted crescent, a serpent coiled in silver ink, and a starburst I somehow knew was not from this world.
"The Sigma Mirror," I read aloud, the name sending a ripple of energy through the air.
The pages were fragile, written in old tongues I couldn't read until suddenly, I could.
My vision blurred for a moment, then shifted. The words realigned themselves, as though welcoming me. Inviting me. Explaining who I was.
Hellhounds. Witches. Hybrids lost to time. A power both feared and desired. They are born of broken bloodlines—half beast, half magic.
I blinked.
No. That couldn't be right. I wasn't a witch. I was just… broken. Abandoned. An omega with a half-dead wolf and too many scars to count.
But the book kept whispering otherwise.
As I flipped through the pages, symbols burned into my mind. A warning. A map. A name. The words didn't just tell me about the hybrids—they claimed me.
That night, sleep didn't come easy.
I tossed and turned in my chamber, Mira curled up in a tight ball on the opposite bed. The silver moonlight painted the floor in haunting swirls, and just as my eyes closed, the room shifted again.
It wasn't like the last vision. This one came sharper. Hungrier.
The stone walls bled away, replaced by a crimson forest under a bleeding sky. Fireflies flickered in strange patterns, and ash rained from the heavens like snow.
Then I saw her again.
The woman in the midnight cloak. Her hood was down this time, revealing eyes like dying stars and silver streaks in her raven-black hair.
"You are the last of her line," she said. "The child born of flame and howl."
I stumbled back. "I don't understand."
"You will." She reached toward my chest, and when her hand touched me, I burned. "You must awaken before it's too late."
I woke with a scream lodged in my throat.
My breath came in gasps, sweat slicking my skin. Mira jolted up beside me, eyes wide with panic.
"Rian? What happened?" she asked, voice groggy with sleep.
I couldn't answer. My heart thundered in my chest. The vision had felt real—too real. I could still smell the ash. Still feel her fingers pressed to my chest.
"I need to see the king," I whispered.
Mira blinked. "At this hour?"
"I have to," I said, already pulling a robe over my nightdress. My hands trembled as I fumbled with the sash. Mira rose to follow me, but I waved her off.
"I'll be fine," I assured her. "Just… stay here."
And then I was in the hall again, barefoot and cold. The guards didn't question me they didn't even look surprised anymore.
The king's door creaked open before I even knocked.
He stood there, still dressed, eyes shadowed but alert. "Rian?"
"I… I saw her again," I said, stepping inside.
He didn't ask who. He just reached for me with careful hands, guiding me to the chair near the hearth.
"Sit," he said gently. "Tell me everything."
And I did.
The book. The symbols. The voice in my head. The woman. The fire. The way my chest had felt like it would split open from the pressure of it all.
Darius didn't speak for a long while after I finished. He just stared into the fire, his brows furrowed in thought.
"I think we need to speak to the seer," he said finally. "Tomorrow. First light."
And to my surprise, he didn't try to touch me again. He didn't push. He simply stood, walked to a nearby cabinet, and poured me a glass of water.
"Stay here tonight," he said, voice low and tired. "You'll sleep better here."
I hesitated.
It was dangerous. Confusing. Stupid.
But after a moment, I nodded.
His bed was still warm when I slipped beneath the covers. He didn't join me. Instead, he stayed by the hearth until I drifted off, lulled by the quiet crackle of flames.
The morning sun barely crept over the horizon when I heard movement.
I opened my eyes and found the other side of the bed empty. The fire had gone out, and the room was quiet, save for the faint rustle of the king dressing near the window.
"I've already sent for the seer," he said without looking back. "She'll be here within the hour."
I sat up, hair a mess, heart pounding again but not from fear this time. From nerves.
Last night's vision haunted me still, but it was easier to carry in the light.
"I should go," I said, sliding off the bed.
He didn't stop me.
But just before I reached the door, he said, "Rian?"
I turned.
"I believe you."
The weight of those three words nearly brought tears to my eyes.
Mira was waiting in our chamber, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.
"Did you sleep in his room?" she asked immediately, not even trying to be subtle.
I rolled my eyes and breezed past her. "Not now, Mira."
"But "
"I said not now."
I changed into a fresh dress in silence. Mira grumbled behind me, but she let it go. For now.
Later that morning, the seer arrived.
She was nothing like I expected.
Tall. Ethereal. With silver eyes that held centuries in their depths. She barely glanced at the king before turning her full attention to me.
"You felt the shift," she said.
I nodded.
The seer took one of my hands and then the other. Her fingers were ice cold.
"You are not what they told you you were," she murmured. "Your wolf never left. She was bound. Suppressed. Hidden to protect what you truly are."
I swallowed hard. "What am I?"
"A hybrid," the seer said simply. "Witch and wolf. A lineage erased by fear."
The words echoed through the room like thunder.
Darius stiffened beside me.
"You are a threat to the wrong kind of people," she continued. "But you are also hope. If you live."
My heart pounded.
The seer pressed her forehead to mine. "You will remember more. Dreams. Memories that are not yours. Let them come."
Then she was gone, like smoke on the wind.
The king didn't speak for a long time after she left.
But something changed in the days that followed.
He started… trying.
Little gestures at first. A tray of my favorite fruit on the windowsill. A silk wrap for my shoulders that matched my eyes. He even brought me a rare book from the library I hadn't seen yet one that talked about the forgotten bloodlines in more detail.
He was quiet around me, not demanding. He let me come to him.
And one night, I did.
He called for me, softly, not with orders but with a request.
"Come talk to me?"
So I did.
I sat across from him near the hearth, the same spot I had the night of the vision. He looked tired but open, like he wasn't hiding anymore.
"What was your childhood like?" he asked.
I laughed bitterly. "You don't want to know."
"I do."
So I told him. Not everything. But enough.
The fear. The silence. The way my wolf had disappeared after the night I was almost taken by force. How I had grown up believing I was less than nothing.
He listened.
When I finished, he stood.
And then without a word he crossed the space between us.
His hand brushed my cheek, warm and hesitant.
And before I could speak before I could stop him
He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine.
My eyes widened in shock.