Bloom

Preparation

McKayla:

We were patiently waiting for McKenna downstairs to help her with her makeup.

The morning light spilled through the living room window, soft and golden, catching in the dust motes that floated lazily through the air. It was beautiful — too beautiful for what today meant.

I sat on the edge of the couch, twisting a makeup brush in my fingers. My stomach was tight, but I kept smiling. Mum bustled between the kitchen and the hallway, straightening ribbons, checking her list twice, pretending not to cry.

We were supposed to be happy. This was the day of the Ceremony of Strength — the day we’d be placed in our new communities, ranked according to our potential. The day every wolf turned twenty-one and took their place in the world.

For most, it was the start of a new life.

For McKenna… it might be the end of one.

I felt so bad for her. I was going to miss her more than I could ever explain. I knew, deep down, that we wouldn’t be going to the same community. She’d only received one offer — a courtesy, really, from a lowland pack far beyond the northern ridge. None of my offers matched hers.

It was rare for twins to be separated. We were supposed to be stronger together — our bond made us near unstoppable in combat. But with McKenna and me, things had always been different.

I still remembered the day she came home from her interview with Alpha Azeo — pale, quiet, eyes distant. She didn’t tell me what happened, but I knew. We all did. Whatever he said had shattered something in her.

From that day forward, she wasn’t the same. The shy, gentle McKenna who laughed easily and blushed at compliments was gone. In her place stood someone harder. Focused.

And now, that same girl was walking into a fate no one could protect her from.

We’d tried our best to prepare her. Taught her survival skills, combat basics, even how to track by scent alone. She was clever — she learned quickly — but she would still be alone.

Her first shift would happen tonight, under the moon. Most of us would change surrounded by packmates, guided by Elders and healers. McKenna would do it alone — in the wilderness, with no one to help her.

I’d heard the first time was the worst. Bones breaking, reshaping. Flesh tearing and rebuilding. Your body fighting itself until the wolf won. After the first shift, it got easier. You learned to control it. Some even came to love it.

But the first… was agony.

And she’d face it with no one by her side.

I closed my eyes, forcing back the guilt. We were born together — I should have been there for her rebirth.

Footsteps creaked on the stairs. I looked up just as McKenna paused at the bottom step. She took a deep breath, centering herself, her fingers curling at her sides.

I could feel her emotions thrumming through the twin bond — a steady hum beneath my skin. Nervous, yes. But not scared.

She was ready.

“You ready?” I asked softly.

She just nodded and walked toward me.

I guided her into the chair near the window, where sunlight kissed her pale skin. She sat quietly, hands folded in her lap, eyes downcast but calm.

I took a deep breath and started with the primer, blending it gently into her skin. “Look up,” I murmured, and she obeyed, though her mind was clearly far away.

I dabbed concealer under her eyes, brushing over freckles I secretly adored. I brushed her brows into place, filled them lightly with pencil. Then I traced a soft line of eyeliner along her upper lids, careful not to make it too bold — she didn’t like standing out.

Mascara next. Just enough to bring out her lashes. A touch of blush to warm her cheeks. And finally, the red lipstick — vibrant, rich, defiant. It matched her shoes perfectly.

When I leaned back, I couldn’t help smiling.

She looked beautiful. Not the flashy kind of beauty that demanded attention, but the quiet, unshakable kind that made people stop and stare without knowing why.

She might not think so, but McKenna was the most beautiful person I knew — inside and out.

But after her interview… she’d changed. There was a shadow in her now. She wasn’t soft anymore. She was steel wrapped in silk.

Still, I worried. She’d always struggled to submit to higher-ranking wolves. It was instinct for us — a pull in the blood to bow, to yield. McKenna did it when she had to, but not because she wanted to. Her defiance wasn’t loud, but it was there.

It made Alphas uneasy. It made her dangerous.

Mum and Dad always said she was a late bloomer, that one day her powers would show. But after years of waiting, we’d all realized the truth: she had no gift.

And yet… sometimes I swore I felt something from her. A ripple of energy that brushed against my own, faint but there. I’d convinced myself it was hope — that I only imagined it because I wanted her to be more.

Now, I wasn’t sure.

When we finished, I leaned in and hugged her. “Everything will be all right,” I whispered.

“I know,” she said softly, smiling against my shoulder. She gave me a squeeze — firm, grounding — and for a moment, I believed her.

Dad entered the room then. He stopped short, breath catching. His eyes softened as he looked at us — his daughters, grown, radiant, ready to face the world.

He smiled, though a tear glimmered in his eye. “You both look beautiful,” he said, voice rough with pride.

“Thanks, Dad,” I said, spinning once to show him my dress. It was white too, fitted at the waist and flaring out just enough for a twirl. Pink flowers trailed up one side, matching the blush of my shoes. My hair curled over my shoulders, catching the light.

I’d chosen a soft pink lip to tie the look together — bright enough to feel alive, soft enough not to steal McKenna’s glow.

We weren’t identical, but our bond ran deeper than blood. I could feel her — truly feel her. Her emotions, her pain. When she was hurt, the mark appeared on me too, a mirrored wound. Mum and Dad made us promise to keep that secret. They said our enemies could use it against us.

But sometimes, it helped. I had healing abilities. When I mended myself, McKenna’s scars faded too. We shared pain — and healing.

Dad crossed the room, straightened his jacket, and cleared his throat. “Your luggage is packed. Are you ready to go?”

We both nodded.

Our suitcases waited by the door — heavy, symbolic. Everything we were going to take into our new lives.

McKenna’s bag was small, just a backpack. Essentials only. It was all she’d need to survive as a rogue. Still, we’d packed a backup case — just in case a community changed their mind and bid for her after all.

I, on the other hand, had packed nearly my entire wardrobe. My communities were affluent; they’d expect me to arrive prepared.

I reached for McKenna’s hand, squeezing tightly. “Yes, we’re ready, Dad.”

The words trembled slightly.

This was our last morning together as a family. The last time we’d stand in this house, smell Mum’s baking, hear Dad’s humming from the porch.

I would miss that more than I could say.

We had always been close — two halves of one whole. The thought of being separated made my chest ache. It felt like we were being pulled apart, stretched across worlds.

Maybe we were.

Tonight, everything would change.

Dad smiled softly, but his eyes were far away. “No matter where you go, your bond will remain,” he said. “Even if the pack can’t feel her scent anymore, you will, McKayla. You’ll always find each other.”

That comforted me more than I expected.

I reached up, adjusting McKenna’s hair one last time, letting my fingers linger. She smiled faintly, eyes calm.

For a moment, the world was still — just us, our family, the familiar creak of the house.

Then Mum called from the kitchen, “Car’s ready!”

We looked at each other — two faces in a mirror, two hearts on the verge of breaking — and exhaled.

“It’s time,” I whispered.

McKenna nodded. “It’s time.”

We picked up our bags, stepped toward the door, and crossed the threshold into the waiting dawn — unaware that by the time the sun set, nothing would ever be the same again.