The forest of Veyrden was a living, breathing entity under the glow of the full moon. Each leaf shimmered with dew that caught the silver light, every twig seemed to hum with an unseen energy, and the shadows between the towering oaks were darker than night itself. Selara Nightwind crouched atop a moss-covered stone, her violet eyes scanning the forest floor. Her silver hair, braided loosely to keep it from her face, caught the moonlight, making her look less human and more like one of the forest spirits the village children whispered about.

Her heart thumped in her chest, each beat echoing the pulse of the forest. Normally, this forest offered her comfort—a place she had roamed for years, mapping paths, marking wolf dens, and cataloging rare herbs for her studies. Tonight, however, the air was heavy, almost electric, carrying a scent she could not name: earth, rain, and something darker, metallic, alive. Her instincts screamed at her, a warning she could not ignore.

A rustle among the underbrush made her freeze. Wolves. A pack, larger than any she had ever seen, emerged slowly, their eyes glowing amber. Their fur shimmered faintly in the moonlight, black as night with streaks of silver that seemed almost magical. She inhaled sharply. These were no ordinary wolves.

Her hand moved instinctively to the dagger at her thigh. It was a finely crafted blade, passed down in her family for generations, yet she knew steel would do little against a pack like this—especially one radiating power. The wolves circled her cautiously, yet there was a tension in the air, a charge that made her muscles tighten.

Memories of her childhood flashed. She had grown up in a small village near the forest’s edge, raised by her grandmother after her parents vanished. The elders often spoke in hushed tones about “the awakening,” a prophecy of a child born with a silver mark who would either save Veyrden or bring it to ruin. Selara had always dismissed the warnings as superstition. But now, crouched among the ancient oaks, the whispers of the past pressed against her mind like a tide.

One wolf stepped forward, larger than the others, its black fur streaked with silver that glimmered under the moonlight. Its amber eyes locked onto hers, and she felt a strange familiarity, a pull she couldn’t explain. Her pulse quickened as a whisper slithered into her consciousness.

“Selara…”

No human voice, yet the name echoed clearly in her mind. Her eyes widened. She stumbled back, brushing against the moss, her dagger nearly slipping from her grip. Then, she saw it: a faint glow etched onto her wrist, swirling in patterns she had never seen. Her pulse seemed to sync with it, and the warmth that radiated from the mark made her gasp.

Her breath came in short bursts. The silver mark was alive. Something ancient and powerful had awoken within her.

The wolves tensed. The largest one growled—a deep, rolling sound that vibrated through the earth. Selara swallowed her fear and forced herself to breathe evenly. Her mind raced, recalling every lesson in magic she had studied: incantations, control, focus. She didn’t know if it would work, but instinct guided her.

“Calm,” she whispered, extending a hand. Energy pulsed from her mark, silver and vibrant. The wolves’ growls faltered, their aggression dampened as if responding to her will. She could feel them, hear their thoughts in fleeting flashes: fear, curiosity, respect. Something ancient connected them to her.

Suddenly, the forest seemed to darken further, and a chilling laugh cut through the night. Selara’s pulse spiked. From the mist emerged a figure—tall, cloaked in black, eyes like polished obsidian, radiating menace and power. Her stomach twisted. The stories were true. The dark sorcerer Varion, whispered of in fearful tones, had returned.

He fixed his gaze on her wrist. “So… the last heir awakens,” he said, voice smooth yet lethal. “And here you are, alone.”

Selara tightened her grip on the dagger. “I am not alone,” she said, trying to sound braver than she felt.

But her voice trembled, betraying her fear.

The wolves shifted, growling again, responding to Varion’s presence. Their amber eyes glowed brighter, and for the first time, Selara realized the depth of her connection. The mark wasn’t just a symbol—it was a conduit. She could feel the magic of the forest, the wolves, the very soil beneath her feet, all converging through her.

Varion stepped closer, his cloak brushing the mist-covered ground. “Impressive,” he said. “But power alone does not make you safe.” His smile was cruel, and yet he lingered, as if savoring the moment.

“That mark is not just yours, child. It belongs to a world that fears it—and I will take it.”

Selara’s chest tightened. She had never felt so small and yet so potent. The dagger in her hand felt insignificant, but the mark pulsed with a power she had only begun to comprehend. And the forest—her home, her sanctuary—was responding to her.

Lightning struck overhead, illuminating the clearing. Shadows danced along the trees. The wolves froze, their aggression tempered, but tension coiled like a spring. Selara swallowed hard. She had a choice: fight, run, or try something she didn’t fully understand.

Before she could act, movement in the shadows caught her eye—a second figure. A man, tall and imposing, with dark hair and amber eyes that gleamed in the moonlight. He moved with the precision of a predator, commanding presence radiating from every step. The Duskfang alpha. Kaelen.

“Step back,” he ordered, his voice calm yet filled with authority. The wolves obeyed him, forming a protective barrier around Selara.

Varion’s eyes narrowed. “Interesting… The last heir and a Duskfang alpha,” he hissed. “How convenient.”

Selara felt her mark flare, responding to Kaelen’s presence. She didn’t know if she could trust him, but for now, he was an ally.

Lightning cracked again, closer this time, illuminating the forest in stark relief. Varion raised his hands, shadows coiling like serpents, reaching for her. Selara braced herself. She closed her eyes, letting the energy of her mark surge, reaching through the forest, calling the wolves, the trees, and even the soil to her side.

The forest trembled. Magic hummed through the air. And for the first time, Selara realized she was not just a scholar, not just a warrior-in-training. She was something more—something feared, something powerful.

The shadowy forest seemed to close in around Selara, the air thick with the scent of ozone from the lightning and the raw energy of magic. Her mark pulsed on her wrist, sending tremors through her veins.

Every nerve screamed that she was on the edge of something immense—something dangerous.

Varion’s dark tendrils of shadow writhed across the forest floor like snakes, twisting toward her. Instinct propelled her forward; she raised her hands, feeling the silver energy surge through her. The nearest tendrils met her power and sizzled, recoiling like live wires. She gasped, astonished at the force she could wield. She had always known she was different—scholarly studies and solitary practice had only hinted at her potential—but this… this was something alive.

The wolves around her, responding to the energy, circled protectively. She felt their thoughts brushing against her mind: caution, fear, obedience, loyalty. The largest wolf—the silver-streaked one—stepped closer, tilting its head as if questioning her resolve. Selara clenched her jaw. She couldn’t afford doubt. Not now.

Varion laughed, a low, chilling sound that made the leaves tremble. “Ah, the awakening begins. I wondered when you would realize the extent of your heritage.”

“I will not let you control me—or this forest!” Selara shouted, voice stronger than she expected. Energy from her mark flared again, forcing a few of the shadows to retreat. But Varion only smiled, raising his hands higher, drawing power from some unseen source.

Lightning struck again, illuminating the clearing. Selara’s heart pounded, adrenaline and fear mingling in her veins. Her mark burned hotter, and with it, memories of lessons learned in her village flooded her mind. Incantations, combat techniques, wolf lore—all converging. She realized she could call upon the magic in the forest itself.

“Kaelen,” she called, desperation threading her voice. “I can’t hold him alone!”

He moved closer, positioning himself between her and the sorcerer. His amber eyes glinted as he whispered to the wolves. They responded instantly, forming a barrier between them and Varion. For the first time, Selara felt the hint of hope. They weren’t alone in this fight.

Varion hissed, fury in his dark eyes. “You rely on others, child? Pathetic.” Shadows surged forward, aiming to ensnare them. Selara focused, raising her hands. Silver energy erupted from her mark, connecting with Kaelen’s command over the wolves.

The forest itself seemed to pulse, roots twisting and rocks levitating slightly as if obeying her will.

A sudden gust of wind swept through the clearing, scattering leaves and fog. The wolves lunged, forcing Varion to stagger backward. For a brief moment, the sorcerer faltered, surprise flashing across his face.

Selara’s chest heaved. She had never felt such raw, unrestrained power before. But control was tenuous she could feel it straining, threatening to spill over. One misstep, one loss of focus, and she could harm the wolves, the forest, even Kaelen. She clenched her teeth, forcing her mind into sharp focus.

Varion’s laugh returned, darker this time. “Impressive… but power without experience is useless.” He vanished into the shadows, leaving a lingering pulse of dark magic in the air. Selara dropped to one knee, gasping, the forest trembling as if recovering from the battle. The silver mark on her wrist dimmed slightly, leaving her warm but exhausted.

Kaelen stepped closer, his presence steadying. “Are you hurt?” he asked.

“Not yet,” she said, forcing herself upright. Her muscles ached, and her mind spun from the surge of magic, but her eyes were fixed on the path ahead.

“But he knows I’m awake. And he’ll be back… stronger.”

Lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating the forest. The mist shifted, and Selara caught movement in the distance—something darker than Varion’s shadow, lurking beyond the trees. Her instincts screamed: there was more to come. Much more.

The forest fell into an eerie silence. Even the wolves, alert and watchful, seemed to sense a deeper threat lingering just beyond the trees. Selara flexed her fingers, feeling the lingering pulse of magic in her veins. Every nerve in her body hummed with energy she barely understood.

Kaelen studied her, amber eyes sharp, calculating.

“You’re stronger than I expected,” he said quietly. “But strength isn’t enough. You’ll need control, strategy… and allies.”

Selara glanced at him, noting his calm demeanor and commanding presence. She still didn’t trust him fully—Duskfangs and her village had never been allies—but she recognized that his skills and influence over the wolves might be the key to surviving the coming battles.

“I… I don’t know if I can control it,” she admitted, her voice low. “This magic… it feels alive. Wild. Like it has a mind of its own.”

Kaelen nodded knowingly. “That’s the mark of a true wolf sorcerer. Control comes with understanding. You’ll have to learn fast.”

The forest stirred. A low, guttural howl echoed through the trees, chilling her blood. Not the wolves’ call—but something older, darker, and more dangerous. Selara’s mark flared again, responding to the unseen threat. Her heart raced.

A flash of memory came unbidden: her grandmother’s warning, the stories of her parents who had disappeared under mysterious circumstances. “The forest will test you,” the elder had whispered. “But you are not alone. The wolves, your heritage… your destiny—they will guide you.”

Selara clenched her fists. Her destiny had chosen her, whether she was ready or not. And she would rise to meet it.

Lightning struck closer, and the shadowy figure of Varion reappeared at the edge of the clearing, his cloak billowing as if alive. He raised his hands, dark magic spiraling toward her. The wolves growled, Kaelen braced, and Selara felt the full weight of the moment.

“This is only the beginning,” Varion said, his voice cold and deadly. “The hunt has begun, Selara Nightwind. And I will not stop until your power is mine.”

Selara inhaled deeply, feeling the pulse of the forest, the wolves, and the silver mark all merging into a single, potent force. She would not run. She would not hide. She would fight—whatever the cost.

The forest seemed to lean in closer, holding its breath as she lifted her hands, preparing to face the darkness.

From the shadows, unseen and terrifying, a new presence stirred—something older, hungrier, and far more dangerous than Varion. Selara’s mark flared wildly, and she knew in her bones: the night was far from over.