Aria's POV
Blood tasted like rust in my mouth.
I wiped my lip with the back of my hand and kept scrubbing the floor.
My knees burned from the cold stone but I didn't stop.
If I slowed down, they had hit me again. Or worse, call Alpha Cyrus.
And I had had enough pain for one morning.
"Lazy little rat," Beta Lorna spat behind me. "You think just because it's your birthday, you get to slack off?"
I didn't answer. I never did.
Talking only made things worse.
"Say something, cursed girl!" she snapped and kicked over the bucket beside me.
The soapy water splashed across my already damp clothes.
I flinched but kept my eyes down.
"I said I am sorry, Beta," I whispered.
"You are not sorry.
You are pathetic," she hissed.
"Just like your mother. Died like a traitor.
Should have killed you too."
That one stung.
But I bit my tongue.
I always did.
After she left, I leaned my forehead against the stone floor, just for a second.
My chest ached. Not from the kicks or bruises, those were normal.
It was something else. Something deeper.
Something was changing.
I could feel it in my bones.
I waited until the sun hit the right spot through the cracked window, the time I always stole ten minutes for myself.
I slipped through the back hallway and pushed open the old side door.
It creaked, but no one heard me.
They rarely paid attention to the omega wing.
I ran into the woods behind the pack house.
The forest welcomed me like an old friend.
The air smelled like pine and earth and the wind whispered between the trees.
My breathing slowed as I weaved through the familiar path, deeper and deeper until the trees turned darker and the ground dipped into a hollow I had not visited in months.
There it was.
The tree stood like a sentinel in the clearing, its bark twisted, black as ash.
They called it cursed. Said bad things happened around it.
But this place... it felt more like home than anywhere else.
I sat down by a tree and was thinking, thinking about everything, why my life was a catastrophe.
Soon after I felt so uneasy, felt a pull towards the ground.
I saw something glowing in the ground it felt so unusual.
I dropped to my knees beside the roots and started digging.
My fingers moved fast, even though the dirt was cold and packed tight.
My heart beat faster with every handful I pulled away.
I kept on digging and digging and it kept shining brighter and brighter and finally i found it.
A small metal shining box, wrapped in cracked leather and bound with rusted metal. My breath caught.
I opened it slowly.
Inside was a thin journal.
The cover was worn, the corners frayed.
But I knew the handwriting.
Liora Blackwood.
My mother.
I had not seen her name written since the day they burned everything that belonged to her.
My hands trembled as I flipped through the pages.
The words inside were strange, poems, drawings, pieces of prophecy.
I did not understand most of it.
Some lines talked about fire.
Others spoke of shadows and wolves with eyes like moons.
I frowned and whispered one aloud.
"Power locked by silver and shame. Fire born shall break the chain."
"What does that mean?" I asked the wind, even though no one was there to answer.
I flipped again, faster this time.
Then one line stopped me cold.
It was written in the center of the page, alone.
The ink shimmered gold, glowing faintly.
"On your eighteenth, you awaken. You are not what they think you are."
"What…?" I stared at it, confused.
Suddenly, my chest burned.
I gasped and dropped the journal. My hands flew to my ribs.
Heat spread through my body, rising like a fever.
My skin tingled, then started to glow faintly beneath the surface, like golden light lived under my flesh.
"No, no, no, what is happening to me?" I whispered, stumbling back from the tree.
The burning got worse.
I fell to my hands and knees, choking on the heat.
My vision blurred.
My fingertips sparked, golden light leaking out like fireflies caught beneath my skin.
Then came the pain.
It tore through my bones like lightning. I screamed and clutched my shoulder as a sharp, slicing heat carved into my collarbone, like a brand made of fire.
"Stop!" I cried out, tears streaming down my face. "Please, make it stop!"
But it didn't.
Something invisible carved deep into my skin and I knew this pain was not just physical.
It was magic. Old magic. Ancient and angry and alive.
When it finally stopped, I collapsed on my side, panting.
The woods were quiet again.
But I wasn't the same.
My fingers brushed my collarbone.
The skin was hot. And raised.
I pulled my tattered shirt aside and stared.
A crest had been burned into my skin.
A crowned wolf surrounded by flames.
I had seen it once before, years ago, when I snuck into Alpha Cyrus's office and opened one of the forbidden scrolls.
The royal crest of Nightveil.
"No," I whispered, shaking my head.
"That… that's not possible."
Nightveil was the bloodline of the Alpha King.
A line said to be pure. Ruthless. Untouchable.
And that mark… was on me.
"This has to be a mistake," I said aloud, my voice barely a breath.
"I am just an omega. I'm no one."
But the golden light still pulsed faintly under my skin.
I picked up the journal with shaking hands and flipped through the last pages.
There, scribbled in rushed writing, was another note:
"If she survives the Awakening, she must never let them see the mark. They will hunt her. Kill her. Fear her."
My throat tightened.
My mother had known this would happen.
She had left this for me.
Hidden it, hoping I would find it in time.
I shoved the journal into my shirt and stood, my legs wobbling under me.
"I have to go," I whispered.
"I can not let them see.
I have to hide it."
But even as I said it, a part of me, deep and buried, felt different.
For the first time in my life, I didn't feel powerless.
I felt… dangerous.
I turned toward the pack house, the trees rustling around me like they were watching.
Something had changed inside me.
And there was no going back.