The Awakening We Feared

Naomi had spent years keeping their existence under wraps, ever since the prophecy. Her greatest fear had always been how to hide her daughter's true identity when she reached sixteen— the age when werewolves typically experience their first transformation. It had been inevitable… or so she thought.

But when Evelyn's sixteenth birthday passed without incident, Naomi had allowed herself to believe that maybe—the prophecy had been wrong. That her daughter would live among humans as a normal being, untouched by the fate that had haunted their bloodline. She had convinced herself that Evelyn would never awaken. That she was safe.

But now, staring into those unmistakable, glowing blue eyes, all those fears came rushing back.

The prophecy wasn't wrong. It had only been delayed.

And if that was the case, then everything she had done to shield Evelyn, to keep their existence under wraps, had been for nothing.

For the first time in years, Naomi felt cold, creeping dread slither into her veins. She had no answers. No explanations.

Worse still, She didn't even know what had happened to Edwin. The night they fled, they were separated, forced apart by the chaos of battle. The last she saw of him was him fighting off their rogue pursuers, his voice urging her to flee

— to protect their child. His figure vanishing into the chaos.

She had done as he asked, escaping with their new born baby, believing that somehow, someway, she would find him again.

She never did.

Every attempt to reconnect, every effort to find a trace of him, led to nothing. It was as if his existence had been wiped out completely. No leads. No whispers. No closure.

And now, her daughter— whom she had fought so hard to keep hidden— was showing signs of the very thing she had feared the most.

Looking at Evelyn, the past crashed into her like a tidal wave.

She couldn't let this happen.

She straightened, forcing her voice into the same firm, authoritative tone she always used when shutting down difficult conversations.

"You're not allowed to use that power," she said, her voice carrying a finality that left no room for argument.

Evelyn's face twisted with disbelief. "That's all?" she asked, her voice laced with frustration and hurt. "That's all you have to say?"

Naomi didn't respond immediately. Because the truth was, she had so much more to say— so much she had kept buried for years. But if she admitted even a fraction of it now, she knew there would be no going back.

And she wasn't ready for that.

"I believe we're done talking here." Naomi said, not waiting for Evelyn's response. She had already gathered the last of her documents, stacking them with precise movements before bundling her laptop and tablet into her arms.

Every motion was deliberate, calculated— an act of control in a situation that was rapidly slipping from her grasp.

Evelyn on the other hand, stood frozen, her mind racing as she watched her mother turn away, her back rigid with unspoken words.

"Mum," Evelyn called, taking a step forward but Naomi didn't stop.

Her heels clicked softly against the tiled floor as she walked toward the hallway, shoulders squared, her grip tightening on the items in her arms.

Evelyn's throat burned.

"Mum, stop!" she said, louder this time, her voice edged with raw frustration.

Still, Naomi kept moving.

Evelyn's fist clenched, her anger, hurt and frustration surging. It was her first time, as far as she could remember being this much desperate.

Though Kael had said so much, she still needed answers some answers. At least, something reassuring from her mother. Or perhaps a confirmation.

"That's all?" Evelyn muttered. She had just proven that something about her wasn't normal. That everything she had been told about herself was a lie. And this was her mother's only response?

Naomi's fingers tightened around the items in her arms, her knuckles turning white. "You need to stop," she said, her voice lower now, strained. "Right now."

Evelyn's jaw clenched. "Stop what?" she demanded. "Pretending? Ignoring the truth? Acting like this isn't happening?"

Naomi's lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to argue, to refute— but she didn't. Because she couldn't. They both knew it.

Instead, she swallowed hard, her gaze flicking toward the hallway, as though calculating whether she could still walk away from this conversation.

"Tell me what's going on," Evelyn pressed, stepping forward. "Tell me why you've been lying to me my whole life. Tell me—"

Naomi shook her head sharply, as if trying to physically cut off the conversation. "Not now."

"When, then?" Evelyn snapped. "When you finally can't hide it anymore? When I start changing into something I don't understand, with no one to explain it to me?"

Naomi inhaled sharply, turning her head away as if she couldn't bear to look at Evelyn anymore.

For the first time, Evelyn felt it— an invisible barrier between them. One she hadn't noticed before, one that had probably always been there.

She thought back to every unanswered question, every time her mother avoided talking about their past, about her father. About who they really were.

And she realized something.

Naomi had never intended to tell her.

No matter how much time passed. No matter how much Evelyn demanded answers. She had always planned to keep her in the dark.

Evelyn felt something crack inside her. "You don't trust me," she whispered.

Naomi flinched. It was so small— so quick —that Evelyn almost missed it. But she didn't.

Her mother was still gripping her things like they were a lifeline, like this conversation was something she desperately wanted to escape.

And that told Evelyn everything. She stepped back, her throat tight. "You were never going to tell me the truth, were you?"

Naomi closed her eyes for a brief moment, then exhaled, her voice barely above a whisper. "Get some rest, Evelyn."

And with that, she turned and walked away. Evelyn stood there, heart pounding, watching as her mother disappeared down the hallway.

The door to Naomi's bedroom clicked shut.

And Evelyn was left alone.

·

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Naomi stepped into her dimly lit room, shutting the door behind her with a quiet click. The tension in her shoulders never eased, not even as she set her things down on the study desk.

She moved with purpose, placing her laptop and documents in their designated spots, but her mind was elsewhere— still caught in the storm of emotions she had barely managed to suppress.

Instinctively, she reached for the drawer beneath the desk and pulled it open. It displayed neatly arranged papers and a few old trinkets, among, lay a single framed picture.

Naomi picked it up carefully, her fingers grazing the worn edges of the frame.

The photograph was old but well-preserved. A younger version of herself stood beside a man— a man whose features Evelyn had unknowingly inherited.

Edwin.

His dark hair was slightly tousled, and his sharp, defined jawline softened by the warm smile he wore. His deep-set eyes, rich and knowing, held a kind of quiet strength Naomi had always admired. In the picture, one of his arms was wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her close in a way that had once made her feel safe.

Now, looking at him, all she felt was the weight of the past pressing down on her chest.

She passed a trembling hand over his face, her fingers ghosting over the glass as if she could reach through it, as if she could bring him back.

Her throat tightened.

"What we feared most is here," she whispered, her voice barely audible as if to his hearing only. "But I'm not sure if I can do this alone."

The silence in the room pressed in around her.

For years, she had braced for this moment, told herself she would be ready. That if the time ever came, she would know exactly what to do.

But now that it was here…

She wasn't ready at all.