The forest was on fire around her, flames devouring ancient tall trees in a surging inferno that painted the night sky blood-red. Maria could still taste the smoke on her tongue, thick and choking, mixed with the sharp, metallic smell of spilled blood that soaked the earth.
Claws sliced through flesh. Screams mixed and desperate cries filed her ear as life was cut short.
She was little again, barefoot in the cold dirt, her tiny fingers holding the hem of her nightdress tighter until the fabric bit into her skin. Shadows passed between the pack walls, fast and feral, like demons set free from the underworld.
Her people and friends. The boy with the shy smile who would carved for her a wooden wolf, its eyes painted with stolen berries. All gone, swallowed in the chaos.
"Stay behind me!" Her father's voice roared, a command mixed with fury and fear.
Alaric Stormfang stood like an unbreakable barrier, his huge frame covered with gore—not all his own. Blood painted his dark hair, and falls down his broad shoulders. Claws fully out, shining like silver daggers, his eyes glowed with a fierce silver glow under the ungodly sky.
Beside him, her mother slashed and growled, her flexible body moved with a typhoon of desperation, teeth bared in a final stand.
But the rogues swarmed like a starving tide—wild-eyed beasts, lathered restrained twisted in madness, their howls a uproar of hunger and hate. They crashed into the clan, overpowering the defenses with sheer, brutal numbers.
Maria's legs trembles, Frozen in terror. She could not run, could not hide. Her heart beats against her chest as a rogue pounced forward from the smoke, jaws snapping.
Her mother turned to meet it, but the beast's claws sank deep into her side. She collapsed with a sharp cry, blood flowing dark across her chest.
A scream made it's way up Maria's throat, silent and suffocating. Panic seized her, hot and blinding.
Alaric mourned, a heartbroken roar that shook the flames, and tore into the attacker. His claws rip out fur and muscle in a spray of red, but the victory was fading. More rogues closed in, a circling pack, their eyes locked on him with predatory pleasure.
Claws flashed, Blood arced through the air. Growl's blended into a deafening storm.
Then, abruptly, silence falls down, heavier than the falling bodies.
Alaric staggered, dropping to one knee in the mud heavy with gore. He panted, hard breaths escaping through clenched teeth. When his silver eyes met hers, they softened, filled with a father's aching love along with the ruin.
"Maria..." The word came out, barely audible over the distant crackle of fire.
She rushed forward, collapsing beside him, her small hands pressing against the wounds inflicted across his chest. His blood feel's warm and sticky between her fingers, soaking into the soil like an offering.
"Papa... no..."
His trembling hands cupped her cheeks, thumbs chasing away the tears and dirt. "Remember the lullaby little one, it will keep you strong," he urged, voice laced with urgency. "No matter what... hold it close. And forgive me, little one. I should have told you sooner about your—"
A rogue's claw pierced from his back, tearing clean through his heart in a burst of fresh blood. It splattered hot across Maria's face, stinging her eyes, filling her mouth with salt and iron.
Time stopped.
The rogue yanks his arm free with a brutal turn, and Alaric's body falls forward, lifeless weight crumble into the dirt.
The killer towered over them, his scarred hide glistening with sweat and blood, a cruel smile splitting his muzzle. His gaze moved over the scene, lingering on Maria's little form.
He tilted his head, appraising her like chattel. Then his lips peeled back further, revealing yellowed fangs.
"You'll do nicely."
Terror surged through her veins like ice. She scrambled backward on hands and knees, nails scraping furrows in the earth, but he advanced with deliberate steps, his shadow engulfing her.
She opened her mouth to scream, to beg, but darkness rushed in—a heavy blow to her skull, then darkness.
Maria jolted awake with a strangled gasp, chains dangling against her wrists like mocking laughter. She bolted upright in the not so bright cage, breath coming in unevenly sharp. Sweat filled her skin, plastering her long dark hair to her neck and shoulders.
The nightmare clings at her again, relentless as the years.
Always the same: the searing fire, the endless flood of blood, her father's fading whisper.
"You'll do."
She bowed her head, letting the thick waves of hair fall forward—a wild veil reaching past her waist, the one remnant of beauty in her shattered life. It tangled from neglect, but held a defiant gloss.
Her skin, once vibrant, now gleamed porcelain-pale and sallow, starved of sun and freedom. Captivity had etched hollows under her eyes, dulled her frame to fragility.
But those eyes...
She lifted her chin slowly, and they pierced the air—storm-grey, unyielding as thunderheads, cold and vacant, brewing a tempest just beneath.
Outside the barred wooden enclosure, harsh voices barked orders.
"Hustle them out! Auction kicks off before noon—prime lots like this won't wait!"
Locks were opened with a metallic screech, boots marching on the packed earth.
Maria's fingers curled into fists, chains biting into her wrists. Today, the sale. Another master, another cage.
Yet, buried under the numb veil of hatred—for the wolves who'd stolen everything, for the cruel twist of fate—a faint melody stirred.
One to numb the heart, two to ease the pain, three to clear your mind...
Her father's voice echoed there, warm and vital, cutting through the void.
For the first time in endless years, her pulse rised—not with fear, but with a spark.
As if something primal, ancient, had awakened to the song. Something vast, uncoiling in her blood, patient and ravenous.
