Ember woke with fire in her veins.
Not the clean, molten heat of a true bond—the kind that settled into your bones and made you feel anchored, whole. This was different. This burned sharp and uneven, flaring in her chest like a spark that refused to catch properly.
Vespera stirred inside her, a low, uneasy presence.
Something is wrong, her wolf murmured.
Ember exhaled slowly, staring at the wooden beams of her ceiling as pale morning light crept through the window. The Bloodstone Pack was already awake—she could hear distant footsteps, the muted rhythm of training beginning in the fields beyond the treeline.
Normally, mornings grounded her.
Today, the pull dragged.
It tugged not toward the pack lands, not toward home—but outward. Toward a presence that felt close and far all at once
