Chapter 15 Vivienne's Research (Vivienne POV)
I can't sleep.
Every time I close my eyes, I see that moment, Declan's lips on mine, the bookshelves solid against my back, the feeling of something fundamental shifting inside me. And that flash of silver in my reflection afterward, brief but unmistakable.
My eyes changed color.
Just like in the dreams where the silver-eyed woman calls me little wolf.
At three AM, I give up trying to sleep and pull out my laptop. Sophie's breathing is steady across the room, undisturbed by my restlessness. I adjust the screen brightness to its lowest setting and open a private browser window.
Search: Lyanna Ashford death 2008
The results populate slowly…old newspaper archives, obituary records, a few scattered references in local history forums. I click on the first article from the Cumbria Gazette, dated February 14th, 2008.
Woman Killed in Tragic Animal Attack
A Lake District woman was killed yesterday in what authorities are calling a tragic animal attack. Lyanna Ashford, 25, was found deceased at a remote research cabin where she had been staying with her infant daughter while her husband conducted fieldwork abroad.
"The scene was extremely disturbing," said Inspector Thomas Wainwright of Cumbria Police. "The victim sustained severe trauma consistent with a large predator attack, though we have yet to identify what species may have been responsible."
Mrs. Ashford's husband, Edmund Ashford, returned from his research expedition to discover the tragedy. The couple's infant daughter, Vivienne, survived unharmed. Mr. Ashford has declined to comment and has requested privacy during this difficult time.
I read it three times, each pass revealing new details that don't quite fit.
Severe trauma consistent with a large predator, but no species identified. In Britain, where the largest wild predators are foxes and badgers. Where big cats are cryptid legends, not documented reality.
I scroll down to the comments section….mostly locals expressing sympathy, but one stands out:
My grandfather lived near that cabin. Said he heard howling the night it happened. Not like dogs or wolves. Something else. Something wrong. - Posted by J.MacLeod
Something wrong.
I search for more articles, finding a follow-up piece from a week later:
Investigation into Fatal Attack Continues
Cumbria Police have concluded their investigation into the death of Lyanna Ashford, though questions remain about the nature of the attack that claimed her life.
"We've consulted with wildlife experts from across the UK," stated Inspector Wainwright. "The wound patterns are... unusual. They suggest a large canine, possibly 200 pounds or more, but no such animal exists in British wildlife. The most similar comparison would be to a wolf, but wolves have been extinct in England for centuries."
When asked about the possibility of an exotic animal escape from a private collection, Wainwright responded, "We've investigated that avenue thoroughly. No reports of escaped animals match the timeline or location. Frankly, we're at a loss."
The investigation has been officially closed, though the case remains unsolved. Mrs. Ashford has been laid to rest in a private ceremony.
Wolves. They keep coming back to wolves.
I search for Lyanna's obituary, finding it in the archives of a different paper:
Lyanna Silvermane Ashford
February 10, 1983 - February 13, 2008
Lyanna Silvermane Ashford passed away tragically on February 13th. Born in the Scottish Highlands to Eleanor and Marcus Silvermane, Lyanna was known for her fierce independence and deep connection to nature. She is survived by her husband Edmund and daughter Vivienne. A private service was held. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to the Highland Wildlife Trust.
Silvermane.
The name hits me with unexpected force, like recognition from somewhere deep in my subconscious. I touch the pendant Freya gave me, feeling its warmth through my shirt.
Search: Silvermane family Britain
The results are sparse…. a few genealogy sites, historical records that seem incomplete. I find a reference in a digitized peerage record from 1847:
Notable Families of the Scottish Highlands
The Silvermane family, ancient and reclusive, maintains extensive holdings in the northern Highlands. Known for their unusual customs and fierce protection of ancestral lands. Family records indicate lineage dating to pre-Roman Britain, though documentation is fragmentary. The current head of family, Lord Alistair Silvermane, resides at the family seat of Silvermoor Manor.
Note: The Silvermane family has declined to participate in the formal peerage documentation process, citing traditional governance systems that predate British law.
I click through to the next reference, from 1863:
Highland Clans and Territories
The Silvermane holdings have remained unchanged for centuries, encompassing approximately 50,000 acres of protected wilderness. Local legend attributes supernatural qualities to the family, though such tales are likely the result of their isolated lifestyle and resistance to modernization.
And then... nothing. No records after 1863. No birth certificates, death records, property transfers. It's like the entire family simply vanished from official documentation.
I search for images, finding a single photograph from 1859, grainy and faded, showing a large manor house surrounded by forest. In the foreground, a group of people stand in formal Victorian dress. I zoom in on their faces, and my breath catches.
Silver eyes. Every single person in the photograph has light-colored eyes that catch the camera's flash with an eerie luminescence.
Like my eyes flashed silver after Declan kissed me.
My hands are shaking as I search for more information, anything that explains why an entire family with centuries of documented history simply disappears from public records.
Search: Silvermane family 1900s
Only two results. The first is a brief mention in a book about Scottish folklore:
Legends of the Highlands by Dr. Margaret Thornton, 1967
Local traditions speak of the "Silver Clan"…shapeshifters who protected the Highland wilderness. While dismissed by modern historians as superstitious legend, these stories persist in isolated communities. The Silvermane family, who once owned vast tracts of Highland territory, features prominently in such tales. Their disappearance from public life in the late 1800s has only added to the mystique.
Shapeshifters.
The word sends a chill down my spine.
The second result is even more disturbing, a newspaper article from the Edinburgh Evening News, 1887:
Highland Manor Fire Claims Multiple Lives
A devastating fire at Silvermoor Manor has claimed the lives of at least fifteen people, according to initial reports. The blaze, which burned for three days, has left the ancestral home of the Silvermane family in ruins.
Authorities report difficulty accessing the remote location and investigating the cause of the fire. Local gamekeeper Thomas Wright stated, "It wasn't a natural fire. Burned too hot, too fast. And afterward... the bodies we found weren't right. Something terrible happened there."
The surviving family members have declined to speak with press and have reportedly relocated. The manor's remains have been left standing as a monument, though local residents avoid the area, citing "unnatural occurrences."
Fifteen people. Bodies that "weren't right." An entire family scattered.
I lean back against my headboard, my mind racing. Mother's family disappears from public record in the 1880s after a suspicious fire. Over a century later, Mother marries Father without revealing her true nature. Then she dies in an "animal attack" that investigators can't explain, killed by wounds consistent with a wolf that couldn't possibly exist in Britain.
Unless it wasn't an animal from outside.
Unless it was Mother herself.
The thought should be absurd, impossible. But after everything, the enhanced senses, the supernatural strength, Declan's revelations about werewolves and mate bonds, it's the only explanation that makes sense.
Mother was a werewolf. From the Silvermane family. Which means I'm not just awakening to random supernatural abilities.
I'm awakening to my heritage.
I pull up a new search, this time looking for contemporary Silvermanes. Maybe some survived. Maybe there are others like me, like Mother.
But there's nothing. No social media profiles, no business registrations, no public records. The Silvermane family has been completely erased from the modern world.
Or they're hiding.
My mobile buzzes with a text from an unknown number: Still awake? I can see your room light from the grounds. - D
I move to the window, peering out into the darkness. After a moment, I spot him—Declan standing in the shadows near the edge of campus, barely visible in the pre-dawn gloom.
Can't sleep. Researching my mother's family.
Find anything interesting?
My mother was a Silvermane. Her entire family disappeared from public record in 1887 after a fire that killed fifteen people. Investigators said the bodies "weren't right."
They were probably in wolf form when they died. Silver fire, maybe. Or a coordinated hunter attack.
The casualness with which he suggests mass murder makes my stomach turn.
There were children. The records mention children in the house.
I'm sorry. Hunters don't discriminate by age. To them, we're all monsters.
We?
Yes. We. You're one of us now, Vivienne. Even if you haven't fully transformed yet.
I stare at those words, at the casual acceptance of what I'm becoming. Part of me is terrified. But a larger part, the part that's been waking up, getting stronger, demanding recognition…feels relief.
My father killed my mother. That's what the "animal attack" was. She transformed, and he killed her.
The response takes a full minute: Yes. I'm sorry you had to piece that together yourself.
Did you know?
The details in Edmund's notebook suggested he killed his own mate. But I wasn't certain until you confirmed the Silvermane connection.
He's been suppressing me my entire life to prevent me from becoming what she was.
And now the suppression is failing. You're becoming what you were always meant to be, and he can't stop it.
I look down at my hands, remembering how my nails became claw-like during that nightmare. How my eyes flashed silver after the kiss. How everything is changing whether I want it to or not.
The reality settles over me like a weight: Father killed Mother. Not to save me, but because he couldn't accept what she was. And he's been systematically erasing every trace of her true nature…and mine…for seventeen years.
All the isolated years. All the private tutoring. All the careful control over what I ate, where I went, who I spoke to. None of it was protection.
It was suppression.
I need to talk to him.
Declan's response is immediate: Vivienne, that's not safe…
I don't care. I deserve answers. He owes me that much.
At least wait until you're ready. Until you've had time to process what you've learned.
But I'm done waiting. Done being the obedient daughter who trusts Father's judgment without question.
I'm going to ask him directly. About Mother. About the Silvermanes. About what he's been doing to me all these years.
When?
Soon. Maybe tomorrow. I need to prepare first. Figure out what to say.
Vivienne, if he realizes how much you know, he might try to increase the suppression. Inject you with something stronger.
The thought makes my skin crawl, but I can't back down now.
Then I'll refuse. I'm done being his victim.
You're not alone in this. Remember that. You have me. You have the pack. You have people who will protect you.
The words make something warm bloom in my chest.
Thank you.
Get some sleep. Tomorrow will be hard enough without exhaustion.
I'll try.
But we both know sleep won't come. Not now. Not with everything I've learned spinning through my mind.
I close my laptop and lie back down, staring at the ceiling as dawn slowly lightens the sky outside my window. Sophie will wake soon, ask me questions I can't fully answer. Classes will demand my attention when all I can think about is Mother's true death and Father's seventeen years of lies.
But first, I need to decide exactly how to confront him. What questions to ask. How much to reveal about what I know.
Because once I ask Father about the Silvermanes, about Mother's real death, there's no going back. He'll know I'm onto him. Know the suppression is failing. Know I'm slipping from his control.
And I have no idea how he'll react.
My mobile sits on the nightstand, Father's contact information just a few taps away. I could call him right now. Demand answers immediately.
But Declan's right…I need to be ready. Need to have a plan for if things go wrong.
Nine days until the full moon. Nine days until I transform whether Father likes it or not.
I can wait one more day. Prepare properly. Make sure I have backup if Father tries something desperate.
But soon, very soon, I'm going to look my father in the eye and demand the truth about my mother's family.
And nothing he says will stop me from becoming what I was always meant to be.