Chapter 4: Dreams of Fire and Fur
Selene awoke in a tangle of sheets, her breath shallow, her skin damp with sweat. The dream clung to her like the heat of summer—unshakable, vivid, terrifyingly beautiful.
Fire. Forest. A pair of silver eyes watching her from the shadows, glowing like moons themselves. The memory of his gaze lingered, sending a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with fear.
She sat up, pressing trembling fingers to her forehead. The crescent mark pulsed faintly beneath her skin, glowing ever so slightly before fading again. Her magic stirred within her like a caged thing, restless and hungry, whispering of ancient things she didn't yet understand.
Not again, she thought. It was the fourth time this week.
Every night the dream returned. Sometimes it was only fragments—crimson skies, howls echoing through the trees. Other times, it was full visions, like last night. She'd seen the wolf. Towering, powerful, with a presence that reached across the veil of dreams. He was no ordinary wolf. She felt it in her bones.
And she hadn't been afraid.
That frightened her more than anything.
She climbed out of bed and padded barefoot across the stone floor of her small chamber. The coven tower was still asleep, its halls silent, but Selene never found peace here. The moment she reached the window and looked out over the dark canopy of the Northern Forest, something deep inside her stirred.
She didn't belong here. Not fully. Not among the witches who feared her.
Not among those who didn't understand her fire.
With a sigh, she dressed quickly in a pale robe and slipped outside, walking briskly through the herb gardens and winding her way toward the glade where she could breathe. The moon was still visible, pale and ghostly above the trees. The cool morning air greeted her skin, but the heat within her never dimmed.
When she reached the glade, she sat at the center and closed her eyes.
"Breathe," she whispered. "Calm."
But instead of calm, her thoughts scattered.
Kael.
The name had never been spoken in her dreams, yet it lived on her tongue now like a memory. A name from another life. A name that shouldn't have felt so right.
"I'm losing it," she muttered, rubbing her temples. "Moon-marked madness."
But the air shifted around her. Heat radiated from her skin, rising with her heartbeat. The grass at her feet swayed in response. The ground beneath her glowed faintly, as though the earth itself answered her magic. The crescent burned softly on her forehead.
And then—
A growl.
Low. Warning. Not far.
Selene's heart jumped. She turned sharply.
A wolf.
Not the one from her dreams—this one was smaller, leaner. A scout perhaps. Its eyes gleamed amber, and its posture was uncertain, more curious than aggressive.
She stood slowly, hands raised, fire already crackling between her fingers in instinctive defense. The wolf froze, ears twitching.
"I don't want to hurt you," she said, though she wasn't sure if it understood.
The wolf didn't attack. It sniffed the air once, its gaze flicking to her forehead where the crescent still glowed faintly. Then it turned and vanished into the trees.
Selene blinked.
Had it recognized her?
She hurried back toward the coven, heart racing, fire flickering up her arms like it wanted out. She kept to the shadows, moving swiftly, haunted by the feeling that the woods themselves had eyes.
When she reached the tower, High Witch Virella stood waiting, arms crossed like stone sentinels.
"You've been dreaming again."
Selene didn't answer.
"You're drawing them near. The wolves. You don't see it, but I do. That mark isn't a blessing. It's a beacon."
Selene clenched her jaw. "Then maybe I was meant to be found."
Virella's eyes narrowed. "Mind your words. Wolves kill witches. They always have."
"Maybe not all of them."
Virella hissed. "Your fire is dangerous. You've already scorched the southern grove. The elders whisper of exile."
Selene turned away, but the image of the silver-eyed wolf returned to her. He hadn't looked like a killer. He looked like a storm waiting to break.
He looked like destiny.
And for the first time, Selene wondered if the dream wasn't just a vision—
—but a memory.