Third Person P.O.V
The cold had left her. The water no longer clung to her every crevice. Her breath flowed easily throughout her.
There was no pain. No fear. No weight. No forest or wolves or river. Only silence.
And a soft, silver light that brought a warmth she never experienced before.
Karmella stood barefoot wearing an elegant white gown that flowed like dandelions in the wind. She was in a field she didn't recognize. It certainly was not the one that she had just dragged her body into. No willow tree tossling in the wind. This place felt magical, felt alive in a way. Mist clung to the ground, whispering around her ankles like smoke. Above her, the sky shimmered in hues that shifted with every breath—deep indigo to white gold and back again.
She turned slowly, her heart thudding in a rhythm she didn't feel in her chest, but in the depths of her very bones. She was met with emptiness but it wasn't scary or off putting. It was actually peaceful in a way.
"Where am I?" she asked aloud. She hadn't quite expected a response.
The wind stirred the mist, parting it just enough to reveal a single figure in the distance.
A woman.
Barefoot. Tall. With a gown in flowing white that rippled like starlight. Her hair was silver and long, nearly blending into the sky, and her eyes… her eyes were violet just like her very own.
The woman didn't speak. Yet her presence was nothing but warmth, kind, peaceful but demanding, authoriented the kind that demanded respect.
She simply raised her hand—and the field around them burst into life.
Trees stretched skyward. Wolves howled. Moons split into twin orbs and bled golden fire across the horizon. She saw flashes of battles she'd never fought but her soul recognized. Felt claws she'd never grown, and warmth from fur she never sprouted. A surge of power filled her like never before. On the whispers of the wind she heard names that weren't hers… and yet were. Lives that weren't hers, yet somehow they were.
"Who are you?" Karmella whispered in amazement.
The woman stepped closer, slightly embracing her, and when she spoke, her voice came from everywhere at once—wind, earth, blood, soul.
"You are not nothing Karmella, they lied to you. You are more than anyone could expect."
Karmella's knees slightly buckled. Her breath caught in her throat. Her eyes widened with wonder.
"They tried to cage you. Silence you. Shatter your bond before it can form. Take from you what's not theirs to take."
"I—I don't have a wolf," she choked. "I'm broken. Damaged. I can't shift. Wolfless."
The woman's eyes burned brighter.
"For you do not shift. You have to become."
Suddenly, the mist darkened. The field trembled. A distant howl—familiar and cold—echoed across the dreamscape. Voices bounced through the air, though no words formed.
Karmella stumbled backward, heart racing. The sky above cracked, thunder splitting across it like a wound. The perfect serene field that she was finding comfort in slowly started to rattle apart.
She turned toward the woman again.
"What am I?"
The silver-haired figure met her gaze sharp but deep.
"Awake, child of the White Flame. Before he finds you first."
And then—
Darkness.
She jolted awake with a gasp.
Dirt in her mouth. Blood on her lips. Cold wind slicing through soaked frozen clothes. The willow's branches still swayed overhead, but the warmth she'd felt before was gone—replaced by something heavier.
A presence.
Watching.
Close.
Hunting.
And she was most definitely the prey.
The scout had knelt beside Karmella, his brows drawn in confusion. He touched two fingers to her neck, checking her pulse.
Strong.
Too strong for someone in this state. Her body was soaked, frostbite nipped at her limbs. To be honest he was surprised she wasn't frozen solid in this weather. Blood smeared the ground that she laid on, the clothes that she wore, and covered almost every inch of her pale skin. Still oozing out of her in some places.
He muttered under his breath. "What in the moon's name are you, what is going on?"
Karmella didn't hear him.
She was already unconscious again.
But her wolf—buried deep—heard everything.
And it was waking.
Not just from pain.
Not just from fear.
But because something in the land had called to it.
Something old.
Something Lycion.
Beneath the boughs of the willow, where two bloodlines now crossed and fate began to shift—
Karmella's wolf stirred for the first time.