of my raw knuckles. My knees throbbed against the cold, hard ground, but I didn't stop. I never stopped. Not unless I wanted another mouthful of dirt. Not unless I wanted the

s cold and unforgiving. Whispers chased me like ghosts. "She didn't shift again?" "She's seventeen now. Definitely, she's cursed." "She doesn't even smell like a shifter." "I heard she has dreams. Weird ones." My hands tightened around the linen but I said nothing. What could I say? That I sometimes woke up with stars behind my eyelids? That I saw fire dancing in the shadows? That there was a woman I didn't know but felt? Even if I tried, they wouldn't understand. They'd only add it to the list of things that made me wrong. So I stayed silent, always silent. After the evening chores, I slipped away. The stars were already out. Ttiny lights scattered across the black silk of the sky. The cold mountain wind kissed my skin, and for once, the silence wasn't cruel. I sat on the worn ledge just beyond the servants' quarters, legs curled beneath me, chin resting on my knees. This was the only place that felt like mine. The only place where I wasn't Ivy the wolfless but just Ivy. The stars had always called to me since I was a child. Before I even understood what they were. They made the loneliness quieter. They reminded me that something and someone was still out there. One star pulsed brighter than the rest tonight. A blue light, soft and steady, just above the forest's edge. I couldn't explain it, but every time I looked at it, something in my chest ached. it seemed familiar. And then there were the dreams. They never came gently. Fire, always fire. But not like anything I'd seen before. Not red or orange. This fire was white, burning without heat, devouring the ground but leaving me untouched. I would stand in a field of ash, the wind howling like wolves in mourning. And then she would appear. The tall woman cloaked in flame. Her silver hair trailing like smoke. Her face was always blurred but her eyes... Her eyes were like mine. Dark, endless and streaked with silver. Every time, she called my name. But not just Ivy. Something older, something strange. Elarin ven'thiel. It wasn't a language I recognized. And yet... I understood it. You are not nothing, she would say. You are mine. I would reach for her. She would bleed. And then I'd wake up. Gasping. I never told anyone. Not Jayce. Especially not Jayce. He was the only one who ever treated me like more than a shadow. In his quiet, brooding way, he taught me how to read, how to wa