The sun slipped through the curtains in hazy golden rays, casting a soft glow over the room. The faint scent of pine and wildflowers drifted in from the forest beyond the windows. But the bed felt cold.
I stirred, my hand stretching out only to find empty sheets beside me. The space Andreis had occupied was now vacant, the warmth of his body already gone. My heart fluttered with worry.
"Where did you go?" I murmured under my breath.
Without wasting a second, I tossed the blankets aside and slipped out of bed. The cool wooden floor met my bare feet, sending a quick shiver up my spine. I spotted Marco's hoodie folded on a nearby chair and quickly threw it on. The scent of my brother was oddly comforting—earthy and crisp, like cedarwood and old pages.
I didn't bother tying my hair—just twisted it up into a loose bun as I hurried to the shower. The water was warm, almost too warm, but it shook off the lingering chill from the empty bed.
As the water ran down my back, my thoughts drifted to the weight pressing on all of us. War felt closer now, clawing at our doors. And with it… my twenty-fifth birthday. Three weeks away. I swallowed the tightness forming in my throat. That was the day I'd transform. The day the curse—or destiny—finally took over.
I tried not to think about it too much, but the thought lingered in the steam. My body tingled in strange ways these days. Sometimes I could hear things I shouldn't. Smell things I couldn't before. See just a little more clearly at night. A new part of me was slowly waking up.
Dressed simply in the oversized hoodie and leggings, I made my way down the hall. The house smelled of brewed coffee and toast. But something else lingered in the air—something heavier. Like the calm before a storm.
As I turned the corner toward my father's office, I caught sight of Max. She was walking quickly, head bowed, her shoulders trembling.
"Max?" I called out gently.
Max froze, then slowly turned, revealing tear-streaked cheeks. Her eyes were red, and her lips trembled as she whispered, "You should go. Just… just go."
Then she turned and disappeared down the hall.
I stood in stunned silence, my heart beginning to race. Without hesitation, I pushed open the door to my father's office.
Inside, my father stood near the wide window, arms crossed, brow furrowed. Marco leaned against the wall, arms folded, and Andreis sat at the table, head slightly bowed but eyes sharp. They all looked up as I entered.
"I just saw Max. She was crying. What happened?" I asked, my voice steady but worried.
There was a pause.
My father motioned for me to sit. I did, slowly, eyes darting between them.
"Zevian found their home," my father began, voice low. "He burned it down."
My breath hitched. "What?"
"Their family barely escaped," Marco said, but his tone held bitterness. "He made them pay for trying to sever ties with him."
"We've brought Max's family here," my father added. "For safety."
Marco pushed away from the wall. "And now we're letting them live here? After what Max did to Mia?"
Andreis interjected gently, "Max was terrified. Zevian threatened her family. That's why she did what she did."
"Still not a reason to betray us," Marco snapped.
"Marco," our father said, firm but calm. "We do not abandon those who seek forgiveness."
I sat quietly, my hands twisting in my lap. My heart ached—not just for Max, but for the weight of everything crashing down around us. I nodded.
"If her parents are here, I want to talk to them. Tonight."
The conversation settled into silence.
***
That evening, the living room was warmer than usual. Logs crackled in the stone fireplace, and the smell of burning oak filled the air. Cushions were scattered on the couches, where everyone had gathered—my parents, Marco, Andreis, Max, and now… Max's mother and father.
They looked older than I remembered—weathered by pain and worry. Max's mother clutched a handkerchief, her eyes swollen from crying.
"We're so sorry," she said, her voice cracking. She looked straight at me. "We didn't raise her to do this. We didn't know."
Her husband placed a hand on her back. "Zevian threatened to kill us. He told Max if she didn't cooperate, he'd make her watch. She was trying to protect us."
My eyes stung, and my throat tightened. I took a deep breath and nodded slowly.
"I understand now. It doesn't make it right, but… I understand."
Max's mother began to cry openly, reaching for my hands. "Thank you… thank you for forgiving her."
From the side of the room, Andreis watched, his gaze filled with pride. He didn't say anything, but his arm around me tightened slightly.
Marco sat stiffly, arms crossed, jaw tight. He didn't say a word, but the fire in his eyes hadn't dimmed.
That night, as everyone settled down, the air was thick with unspoken words.
I walked outside, onto the porch, pulling the hoodie tighter around me. The wind carried the scent of wet soil and pine, of smoke and something wild. I didn't notice it before, but something in me was stirring—like a thread being tugged deep inside.
Something was changing.
My skin tingled. My hearing seemed sharper. I could hear the howl of a distant wolf, the crack of a twig in the woods, the soft hum of someone breathing inside the house.
I pressed a hand to my chest.
My gift.
It wasn't fully awakened, but it was close. And whatever it was, I knew it would matter.
I turned back to the door, where Andreis stood watching me, his eyes soft.
"You felt it too," he said.
I nodded. "Something's changing in me. I can feel it more every day."
He reached for my hand and squeezed it. "You're becoming who you were meant to be. Three weeks left."
My breath caught. Three weeks. Twenty-five years old. The day I stop being just human.
And together, we stepped into the house—toward war, toward uncertainty, and toward the kind of strength only love and legacy could bring.