Chapter 1 : The Wolf Beneath the City
The dream always began the same way.
A silver moon hung low over a forest she didn’t know, and the sound of howling rose from the trees like a prayer and a warning. Aria ran barefoot through the mist, her breath sharp in her chest, her heart pounding as though it remembered something her mind had long forgotten. Behind her, something moved—fast, powerful, unrelenting. When she stumbled over a root and looked back, she caught a flash of eyes—metallic, ancient, and terrifyingly familiar.
Then she always woke before they reached her.
This morning was no different. Aria jolted upright in bed, her sheets tangled around her legs, the echo of a howl fading from her ears. Her pulse hammered against her ribs as dawn broke through the blinds in pale streaks. She pressed a hand to her chest and whispered, “It’s just a dream.”
But it didn’t feel like one.
She swung her legs off the bed and stared at the faint shimmer on her skin. It faded quickly, but she saw it—silver, like light refracting under her veins. It was gone before she could blink twice. Maybe she was just exhausted again.
Her mother’s voice called faintly from downstairs. “Aria! You’ll be late!”
Late. Right. Reality reasserted itself.
Aria threw on a denim jacket and shoved her hair into a messy bun before heading down. The scent of toast and coffee filled the kitchen, grounding her in the familiar rhythm of city life—the hum of traffic, the smell of rain on concrete, the flicker of her dad’s newspaper.
“You look pale,” her mum said, frowning over her cup. “Did you sleep at all?”
Aria hesitated. “Weird dreams again. Wolves, forests, moonlight. The usual.”
Her mum’s hand tightened around the mug. Just for a second—but enough for Aria to notice.
“Dreams can’t hurt you,” her dad said quickly, folding the paper. “Probably just that fantasy stuff you’ve been reading before bed.”
Aria managed a weak smile. “Right. Because books cause supernatural insomnia.”
They laughed, but there was tension underneath it—like a shared secret nobody wanted to acknowledge. Her parents exchanged a glance. It wasn’t new; she’d seen that look before, every time she mentioned the dreams.
Her dad reached over and touched her shoulder. “You’re fine, Ari. Just stress. Everyone dreams of running sometimes.”
Except she wasn’t running toward something. She was always running away.
The city air was damp and sharp as she made her way to the university. Rain clung to the pavement, reflecting light like shards of silver. She tugged her jacket closer, uneasy under the grey sky.
By the time she reached the bridge overlooking the river, the world had grown quiet—too quiet. A chill swept through her, primal and wrong.
Something was watching her.
She turned slowly, heart hammering, but saw only fog rolling off the water and the faint hum of traffic. Still, the feeling didn’t fade.
Then came the scent—sharp, metallic, like iron and stormwater.
“Aria.”
Her name. Spoken softly, as though from everywhere and nowhere. She spun, searching the fog.
And that’s when she saw him.
He stood at the other end of the bridge—tall, still, a silhouette carved from shadow. His eyes caught the weak light and turned it silver. For a heartbeat, the world stopped.
“Who—?”
But the question died on her tongue.
He moved closer with the silent grace of something not entirely human. His presence wasn’t threatening, not exactly—but it pressed against her like a storm about to break.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said. His voice was deep, smooth, and carried a commanding tone. “The city isn’t safe for what’s waking.”
“What?” she whispered. “Who are you?”
For a moment, his expression flickered—pain, maybe recognition—but then it hardened. “Forget this. Forget me.”
And before she could blink, he was gone.
The next moment passed in a blur. The air thickened; her vision wavered. Aria gripped the railing, her pulse roaring in her ears. A howl echoed in the distance—faint but real this time.
When she looked down at the river, she saw the moon's reflection. But the moon shouldn’t have been there—it was daylight.
Then, as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.
She stumbled home, drenched and trembling.
That night, she couldn’t stop replaying the encounter. His eyes. His voice. The way her name had sounded like a memory instead of a word.
And that single phrase—“what’s waking.”
As she stood by her window, the city lights shimmered below, but above them, clouds moved to reveal a pale crescent moon. It shouldn’t have pulled at her. But it did. Deep inside, something stirred—a whisper under her skin.
Run.
The voice wasn’t hers. It was older. Wilder.
She pressed a hand to her chest again, where her heartbeat thudded too fast. And as the wind carried a distant echo of a howl, she whispered into the night—
“Who are you?”
Across the city, on a rooftop high above, Kael Draven watched her from the shadows. The mark beneath his collarbone burned—the mark that only flared for one reason.
He closed his eyes, his voice a low growl. “Not her. Not again.”
But the moon answered differently, its pale light wrapping around him like chains.