"Hold him down!"
The scream cracked through the air, ripping through the trees like a curse. Rhett's voice was iron and flame, his hands already slick with sweat and blood as he fought to keep the young wolf from shifting.
A crescent moon bled light overhead. The rebel encampment had been quiet, until now.
Beckett staggered back as the thrashing boy let out a cry that wasn't human anymore. His bones cracked beneath his skin. Flesh tore. Fur pushed through muscle. Something ancient, something wild, had awakened in him. Too early.
"He's not ready!" Celeste cried, clutching a rune stone in one palm, its surface glowing dimly.
"Neither were we," Rhett growled.
Then came the shift.
A wave of raw magic exploded outward. Everyone around the circle stumbled. The boy, Niko, fell to his knees, the transformation incomplete. One arm remained human, the other fully turned. His mouth twisted in pain as his fangs protruded, half-formed. Blood spilled from his nose, from his eyes.
