Chapter 13 : A Future From the Past
Aria stood before the portrait, unable to tear her eyes away from the child in her mother’s arms — the tiny girl wrapped in pale cloth, staring ahead with strange intensity for a newborn.
She touched the canvas lightly.
“That can’t be here,” she whispered. “This house — I’ve never seen it. I’ve never been here.”
Rowan stepped beside her, folding his arms. His posture was guarded again, but not hostile — more… resigned.
“You were never meant to see it until now.”
Aria turned to him sharply. “Then why did you say ‘welcome home’? My home is where I grew up. This isn’t it.”
“It’s not your childhood home,” Rowan said gently. “It’s the one your parents built for your future.”
She blinked. “My future?”
Rowan nodded and walked deeper into the hall.
Aria followed, her gaze drifting over ornate carvings etched into wooden beams — moon symbols, wolves, spirals. Everything felt both foreign and familiar, as though some echo within her bones recognised it before her mind could catch up.
“This house,” Rowan began, “is a sanctuary. Your parents created it when you were still in your mother’s womb. Before the massacre. Before everything went wrong.”
“Here?” Aria asked. “In the human world?”
“Yes. Hidden behind layers of old magic and blood seals.” Rowan pressed his palm to an engraved crescent moon on the wall. The symbol glowed faintly beneath his touch. “Only someone of your bloodline can open the house fully. I could only access certain parts. But today, when the Shadow Priest attacked you, your blood reacted — and the seals loosened.”
Aria inhaled shakily. “You mean… this place unlocked because of me?”
“Because your blood awakened,” Rowan corrected. “Your parents knew the day would come when you needed answers. When your birthright would catch up to you.”
She swallowed. “But this isn’t the Lycan Kingdom.”
“No,” Rowan agreed. “Your real home — your ancestral home — is still there. But you can’t go back yet. You’re not strong enough.”
Aria hesitated. “Then why did you say welcome home?”
He turned to her, expression softening in a way she wasn’t prepared for.
“Because your parents intended this to be your first step back to who you are,” he said. “Not the end of your journey. The beginning.”
Aria’s throat tightened. Not with grief — she was exhausted of grief — but with a strange mixture of longing and fear. A place built for her? For a version of her she didn’t even know?
Rowan gestured down the hall. “There’s more. You need to see the study.”
He led her to a heavy wooden door. The moment Aria approached, faint silver markings glowed across its surface like threads of moonlight shifting through the grain. The energy tugged at her — subtle but insistent — as if recognising her.
Rowan pushed the door open.
A wave of scent hit her immediately — parchment, old varnish, and something else beneath it… something like winter air mixed with pine.
The study was filled with shelves, scrolls, maps pinned to boards, and books with spines stamped in symbols she’d never seen. The centre table held a half-burned candle and a sealed wooden box.
Aria stepped inside slowly, as if afraid the room might vanish if she moved too fast. “It feels like they were here yesterday.”
“No one has entered this room since the night your parents sealed it,” Rowan said quietly.
Aria touched a stack of books lightly. “Why hide all of this? Why not take me back to the Lycan Kingdom when I was old enough to understand who I am?”
Rowan sighed — the kind of sigh that carried years’ worth of the answers he wasn’t allowed to give.
“Because you were being hunted,” he said. “You still are.”
Her heart lurched.
Rowan walked to the table, fingers brushing the wooden box. “Your parents knew you wouldn’t survive one day within the kingdom once the Shadow Priests realised a child of prophecy had been born.”
Aria froze. “A child of what?”
Rowan grimaced. “It’s complicated.”
“No,” she snapped. “You’ve been hiding things from me since I was five. Not anymore. Tell me.”
Rowan met her eyes — torn, conflicted, but resolute. “Your family’s bloodline is ancient. Much older than the current royal line. You were born under a prophecy tied to the Blood Moon. The same power that the Shadow Priests worship.”
Aria’s pulse hammered. “So they want to kill me.”
“No,” Rowan said softly. “Worse.”
She stared at him, dread curling cold and tight in her stomach.
“They want to use you.”
Aria backed up a step, hand gripping the edge of the table. “Why me?”
“Because your blood can break the veil between realms,” Rowan said. “Because your birth woke magic that’s been dormant for generations. And because—”
He stopped, jaw clenching.
“Because of Kael,” she finished for him.
Rowan looked away, confirming it.
Aria’s thoughts spiraled — Kael’s strange reaction to her, Cassian’s secrecy, her nightmares turning real, the attacks, the sudden awakening of senses she never had.
Her voice lowered. “What’s inside the box?”
Rowan stepped back, allowing her to approach it. “Your mother’s seal. She left it for you.”
Aria hesitated, fear coiling tight in her stomach. Her hands trembled as she lifted the lid.
Inside lay an envelope tied with silver thread and a small moonstone pendant shaped like a crescent. The stone glowed faintly as she touched it, warmth seeping into her skin.
She lifted the letter. Her name was written on it in elegant, looping script.
Aria.
No surname.
Just Aria — as if her mother knew the rest would find her when she was ready.
Rowan spoke quietly from behind her. “This house isn’t meant to replace your real home in the Lycan Kingdom. It’s a safe harbour. A place where the truth waits for you, piece by piece. Your parents planned this long before their deaths.”
Aria swallowed hard. “And you’ve known all along.”
Rowan didn’t deny it.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” she whispered.
His voice cracked in a way she’d never heard.
“Because the moment you knew the truth… every enemy that has been waiting for you would start closing in.”
Aria clutched the letter to her chest.
“So now they know.”
Rowan nodded once. “Yes. And they won’t stop.”
The room felt suddenly smaller, the air heavier.
The house her parents built wasn’t just a sanctuary — it was a countdown.
“How long do we have?” Aria asked, barely above a whisper.
Rowan’s expression darkened.
“Days,” he said. “If that.”
Aria exhaled slowly, her fingers tightening around the moonstone pendant.
For the first time, she didn’t feel like running.
She felt like fighting.