II

My head pounded erratically the moment my eyes peeled open. The sound of my breath was too loud in my ears, shallow and ragged as I dragged it in, trying to focus. My eyes ached, straining to make sense of the dim room around me, but everything felt blurry, like I was trying to look through fog. The bed creaked beneath me, groaning as I shifted, and I winced at the sound, feeling every inch of my body ache in protest. I tried to sit up, but the dizziness hit me like a wave, and I fell back, my pulse quickening in panic. My breath was shaky as I dragged it in, my chest heaving.

The floorboards beneath the bed seemed to groan in response, the wind outside howling faintly, rattling the window panes. The musty smell of old wood filled my nose, mingled with something faintly earthy, like dried herbs. I could hear the distant crackle of a fire, its flames popping softly in the quiet, and despite the strange surroundings, a part of me felt like I should remember something—where I was, how I got here—but the memories were just out of reach, swirling in a haze that made everything feel far too distant. 

Cupping my forehead in my palm, I managed to sit up again, this time doing so. The view of the surrounding swirled before my very eyes before I could make sense of the room. 

I was in a room, alright, but I hadn’t seen one like this in my entire life. It looked like I’d stepped into the 1900s. The walls were rough, uneven logs, and the air smelled of wood and age. A stone fireplace sat across the room, its dying embers casting faint, flickering light. The bed beneath me groaned as I moved, the iron frame old and rusted, the mattress sagging. A patchwork quilt, worn and faded, covered me. Beside the bed, a scratched wooden nightstand held a single candle, the flame barely alive. Heavy curtains hung over the window, blocking most of the outside light, but I could see trees shifting in the wind through the cracks. Everything felt old, forgotten, like time had stopped here.

I was still taking in the entirety of the room, deep in thought, when a voice broke through. 

“Ah! Look who’s up?”

Startled, I shook, my head whipping in the direction of a room door where a woman had stepped in. And oh my, she was the most beautiful human I'd ever set my eyes on. Her hair was pale white, healthy strands that she had tightened into a ponytail. I couldn’t tell her age range but based on how whitened her hair had become, I was certain she couldn’t be in her early forties as her looks deceived me to be. She was smiling, her skin pale but cheeks reddened from excitement. 

I looked at her with furrowed brows, squinting, trying to make sense of how I found myself in this woman’s house. She looked too bougie, too classy to be living in a worn down cabin house like that. The blue jeans she wore hugged her shape in the right places, paired with a polka dot cashmere sweater—a far stretch from how her apartment looked. 

“Wh-where am I?” I asked, my voice hoarse. 

Her smile lingered on. She had a steaming mug in her hands, atop a coaster, which she placed on a stool next to the bed. I peeked inside as she did—It was tea. My stomach churned, hopefully, for me. 

She plopped into the bed next to me, the metal creaking under her weight as she did so. “You turned up in front of my door, five days ago.” 

“Five?” 

She nodded, pretty certain. “Yeah, or five nights if you like me to be particular. There were bangs, and then a thud, and you were just… there.” 

I remembered now. But nothing before and after that. I remembered nothing else. My brain was like a blank canva and the only memory in repetition on my head was me walking through the forest, head throbbing, panting, lips quivering and then I’d ended up here. In front of this lady’s porch, banged against the door, and then… nothing.

“What’s your name?” She asked. Slowly, her smile faded, but her face held on to this friendly look. Her eyes fell onto my wrist. “Judging from that kalabra on your wrist, you’re not from around here.” 

My eyes dropped to my wrist. It was a slow gesture but the moment my eyes connected with the black and blue bracelet encircling my right wrist, a huge spasm of pain overtook me. My hands shaking, a loud yelp escaped my throat and soon I was crumbling into the bed, screaming my lungs out. I could barely breathe through the pain that pulsates through me, each second more unbearable than the last. My vision blurred, the room spinning around me as I screamed, feeling as though the pain would tear me apart from the inside. I clasped my head, my fingers shaking uncontrollably, but it felt like my entire body was on fire, each pulse magnified by the searing agony.

My heart was pounding, my body slick with sweat, but my mind—my mind was racing. I could hear my breath echoing in the silence, shallow and frantic, and everything, all at once, came crashing down on me. Memories flooded in, fragmented, disjointed, like a slideshow of still images that didn’t make sense. Faces. Places. Voices I didn’t recognize immediately. 

I remembered running, feeling hunted, the panic suffocating me. But where was I? How had I ended up in this strange, old cabin, with a woman I couldn’t place? I blinked, my thoughts scattered and foggy, trying to make sense of the sudden rush of images. And then… I remembered everything. My father’s death. Kane chasing me through the woods, rejecting me, falling off the cliff…and then me showing up at the porch, walking through the woods, trembling, at the very edge of death. 

Something felt wrong. There was a gap I couldn’t fill. There was something missing, but I couldn’t quite place what. My wounds were all healed, the fastest I’ve healed in my entire life. I was weak, sure, but my wounds, they were all healed. I didn’t know what magic had been working on me, but I was healed—healed!

The woman didn’t seem moved by my episode. She  sat still at the edge of the bed, watching everything play out like this was a normal routine of her day. She just sat there, calm and unaffected, watching me like she had seen this before. The corners of her lips twitched, but her smile was subdued, as though she was waiting for me to settle down, for the storm inside me to pass.

“Better?” she asked, her voice soft but with an undertone of something almost knowing, something too wise for my comfort. 

I swallowed, nodding, still too dazed to form a coherent response. My head throbbed faintly, the lingering pain a reminder that whatever had happened wasn’t over. 

She reached for the mug of tea, lifting it with grace, the steam curling up into the air in delicate swirls. "You’re safe here, for now," she added as she handed me the mug. With trembling hands, I accepted it. Her gaze shifted to the window, as though she was watching something just beyond my reach. “But you’ll need to rest.”

Rest? After everything? My mind was spinning with questions. Refusing to lift the mug to my lips just yet, I let the question out. “Where am I?” 

She perked up as if she had been expecting this. Her eyes, sparkling green, were wide with anticipation. “You’re in Eldrida. Home to the Arkton Clan’s werewolves.”

My eyes widened. This time my eyes fell on the Kalabara encircling her own wrist. Kalabaras were a form of bracelets clan members used to identify belonging to a particular clan, werewolf packs. Rogues had no such, and if you ever came across a werewolf without a kalabara as a form of identification, it was clear you’d come across a rogue wolf. 

In contrast to my black and blue beaded bracelets, hers were a marble white with light streaks of purple glowing ominously. That wasn’t what intrigued me. What did was the fact that she had mentioned the Arkton Clan. They were real?

The revelation hit me like a bolt of lightning. Arkton Clan. The enemies of Blackoak. The very clan I had been raised to fear, the ones who had hunted us for generations.

I stared at her, my hands trembling around the tea, my mind racing. This wasn’t just some chance encounter. It couldn’t be.

“Arkton Clan?” I whispered, the words tasting foreign in my mouth. “But… I’m not supposed to be here. I’m—” I stopped myself, my words faltering as the memory of Kane’s brutal pursuit flooded back. The cliffs. The fall. I had barely survived, had barely made it to this place. But why? Why hadn’t I just… died?

The woman tilted her head slightly, her gaze steady, as though she had anticipated this reaction. “Not supposed to be here,” she repeated, her voice soft yet sharp. “You think that matters now? The rules, the borders, the blood feuds—they don’t matter when you’re still breathing.”

I swallowed, trying to steady myself. The taste of tea was sharp on my tongue, grounding me, but my mind was elsewhere. What did she know? What had she seen?

“You’ll want to know more. But not yet,” she continued, standing from the bed with a graceful fluidity that made me uneasy. She looked over at the window again, her posture somehow rigid and expectant. “Eldrida isn’t like Blackoak. And neither are its people.”

“Then why help me?” I managed, still stunned by everything. “Why save me?”

Her lips curled into a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Because, Feyre,” she said, using my name for the first time leaving me stunned, I hadn’t even told her, “you’re more important than you know. And when the time comes, you’ll understand why. But first, you need to rest. Heal completely. This world isn’t ready for you yet.”

Rest. Heal. It sounded so simple, but everything about this situation screamed that there was something far darker at play. Something far more dangerous than I could understand. But her words echoed in my head: You’re more important than you know.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. My chest tightened. She didn’t say it like someone who was trying to make me feel better. She said it like a warning.

As she stepped toward the door, I felt the weight of her presence linger in the room, like the very air had thickened. “You’re safe for now,” she repeated, her voice barely a whisper as she opened the door.

I watched her leave, my thoughts a tangled mess, but something gnawed at me. A primal instinct told me to leave—to run—before it was too late. But my body was still too weak, too drained from whatever had happened to me. I wasn’t ready. Not yet.

I dropped the tea back on the stool and sank back against the pillows, feeling the heaviness of the situation press down on me.

Safe. But for how long?

The shadows outside the window grew longer as the sun began to set. And in the distance, I thought I heard the howl of a wolf.

But it wasn’t like any howl I’d ever heard before.