“You look just like her,” Kieran says, stroking my knuckles with the pad of his thumb. “You have the same eyes and the same smile. She gave you her beauty.”
Before I can respond, my throat thick with unshed tears, the scene changes again. This time we’re inside what must be the pack’s main hall, like the Pack Jade amphitheater. The atmosphere is tense, worried faces gathered around a long table. My father stands at the head, his expression grim as he addresses the gathered shifters.
“We confirmed it this morning with scouts—the fae are coming,” he says, his voice deep and resonant. “I’ve sent one of our warriors to seek help from the other packs while I prepare our warriors and defenses. The fae intend to come here, take our lands, and use our power for their own purposes.”
“But why target us specifically? And why now?”
“Because they fear us,” he says, looking at my mother where she stands near him with determination on her face. “They fear our bite because it’s poison to them, and the only thing that can harm them in their own realm. They know that as long as Pack Onyx exists, we’re a threat to their power—and make no mistake, they intend to take more land than just ours.”
Murmurs ripple through the crowd. I drink in every word, every detail memorizing my parents’ faces, the sound of their voices. The scene blurs as tears fill my eyes, but I blink them away, refusing to miss a moment.
“What can we do?” Another pack member asks.
“We fight,” my father says firmly. “We protect our own. And we make contingency plans, in case… in case help doesn’t come.”
A moment later, a large, burly man bursts into the room, sending waves of attention through the crowd. All eyes go to him… and he slowly shakes his head.
There will be no help coming.
The vision shifts again, this time to a smaller, homier room. My parents are alone now, bent over an open book with thick black symbols scrawled on it, surrounded by handwritten notes in red and blue. Some of the symbols from the book are drawn on the floor in white chalk, complicated patterns that make my eyes hurt to look at them. Candles lit around the room flutter in a gentle breeze. The air crackles with magic—old magic, deep and primal, that calls to me. It feels familiar somehow, like an old friend that I’ve known my whole life.
“Are you sure about this?” My father asks my mother, his voice concerned. “I know that there’s a good reason for it, but the price…”
“To protect our daughter?” My mother’s voice is fierce, full of love and determination. “I would pay any price. Wouldn’t you?”
He pulls her close, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Of course I would. But suppressing her ability to shift… it will make her life so much harder. If we aren’t with her to live it… if the worst happens and another pack takes her in…”
“Better an outcast than dead,” my mother says grimly. “Or worse—taken by them to their realm. The fae cannot be allowed to use our pack’s power against our people. This way, they’ll never know what she is, and she’ll be protected from them. She’ll be safe.”
Understanding hits me like a blow to the gut, sharp and painful. All these years I thought I was broken, cursed. I was treated like there was something wrong with me, accused of carrying the madness that destroyed my pack. But my parents knew the fae were coming, knew they would try to use me if they found out what I was and what I could do, or kill me outright. So they hid my true nature, even from me, buried it so deep that even I didn’t know it was still there.
Everything I believed about myself my whole life was wrong. I wasn’t weak, broken, cursed, unwanted—I was protected. Loved. Saved.
“Aurora?” Kieran’s voice breaks through my shock with warmth. “Are you okay?”
I realize I’m shaking, tears streaming down my face, so many and so rapid that they nestle in my collar. “They did it to protect me. All this time, I thought there was something wrong with me, some intrinsic part of me that was missing. But they loved me enough to sacrifice everything, all to make sure that I’d survive even if they didn’t.”
He pulls me into his arms, and I let myself break apart against his chest, cradled in his strength. All the years of feeling less than, of believing I wasn’t enough, hiding my shame deep down—they crash through me like a series of waves, leaving behind something new and clean and pure. Understanding. Acceptance. And beneath it all, a deep well of love for the parents I never got to know.
“Watch,” Kieran murmurs, “they’re not done.”
I turn in the shelter of his arms to watch my parents complete the ritual. My mother holds me—tiny, barely walking me—in her arms as she chants words in an ancient language. She sets me down in the middle of the chalk lines, holding my chubby little hands in hers. My father stands guard, his eyes alert for danger, a growl in his chest. As the chalk lines begin to glow, my mother kisses my forehead and steps away, her tears falling freely.
“Be safe, my darling,” she whispers. “Be strong and brave. And know that no matter what, you were well and truly loved beyond all measure, all the way to the ends of the earth and back.”
Light fills the room, so bright and so white that it hurts to look at. When it fades, the toddler version of me is still there, sitting on the floor, but something has changed. It takes me awhile to realize what it is: my wolf is gone, her energy no longer visible, her scent hidden far away.
“She’ll be immune to their magic now as well,” my mother says, her voice somber. “They won’t be able to find her or hunt her down. I just hope that she forgives us for it.”
She closes her eyes, silently weeping, as my father holds her gently.
“The ritual didn’t just suppress your wolf,” Kieran says, placing his arm around my shoulder. “It gave you something else too. They made sure of it.”
It all makes sense now—why I could help Gage when no one else could, why the fae’s magic seemed to slide off me like water off glass. My parents hadn’t just hidden my wolf, they’d given me a weapon against our enemy.
The vision fades, leaving us standing in the ruins once more. But suddenly they don’t feel like ruins to me. Now I can feel the echo of that love that once lived here, the bravery and strength that saturates every stone. This place isn’t just a testament to what was lost, it’s a reminder of the bravery of those who made sure something—someone—was saved.
Me. My heritage. My birthright.
