Awakening the Beast

Celine woke up with a start. Something was different.

She lay still, staring at the wooden ceiling of the attic, trying to figure out what had pulled her from sleep. A strange warmth coursed through her body, spreading from her chest to her fingertips. Her heartbeat sounded too loud in her ears, a steady thud-thud-thud that matched the pulse of something unseen within her.

She exhaled, rubbing her arms. Maybe she was coming down with a fever. That would be just her luck, to fall sick when she still had chores to do.

With a sigh, she pushed off the thin blanket and swung her legs over the bed. The wooden floor was cold beneath her bare feet, but she barely felt it. Instead, a prickling sensation ran up her spine, making her shudder.

Shaking off the unease, she moved to the small cracked mirror by her chest of belongings. Her reflection stared back, messy dark curls, tired blue eyes, and a faint flush to her cheeks.

Then she froze.

Her pupils were…different.

For a brief moment, they flickered just a heartbeat of a second, but she swore she saw gold in them.

She blinked rapidly.

Normal again.

"Great," she muttered to herself. "Now I'm imagining things."

A loud bang against the attic door nearly made her jump out of her skin.

"Get up, you lazy brat!" Margaret's voice snapped from the other side. "There's work to do!"

Celine rolled her eyes, taking one last glance at her reflection before turning away. Whatever strange feelings were creeping over her, she didn't have time to deal with them.

It wasn't like anyone cared that today was her 18th birthday.

Downstairs, breakfast was the usual disaster.

Celine set the plates on the table as Beatrice sat like a queen in her silk dress, her golden curls bouncing as she laughed at some joke their brother, Patrick, made. Henry, their father, read the town notices, completely ignoring Celine as if she were invisible.

Margaret, of course, found something to complain about.

"The eggs are too runny. Did you even try?"

Celine bit back a sigh. "I cooked them exactly how you asked."

Margaret narrowed her eyes. "Are you talking back?"

Celine opened her mouth, thought better of it, and shoved a piece of bread into her mouth instead.

Beatrice smirked. "Look at her, Mother. She's practically an animal. No wonder she was abandoned at birth."

Patrick chuckled. "She probably eats like that because she doesn't know any better."

Celine's grip on her spoon tightened, but she stayed quiet. She had learned long ago that speaking up only made things worse.

"Go to the market and fetch more flour," Margaret ordered. "And don't dawdle like you always do."

Celine muttered a quick "Yes, Ma'am," grabbed the basket, and escaped out the door before they could say anything else.

The market was already bustling with life, the air thick with the scent of freshly baked bread, roasting meat, and ripe fruit. Merchants shouted their prices, customers haggled over deals, and the general chaos of Ravenshire's town square played out as it always did.

Celine made her way to the miller's stall, keeping her head down, but it didn't matter. The whispers followed her like shadows.

"That's the orphan girl."

"She's not even a real Smith."

"I heard she was swapped with the Smiths' real daughter at birth."

She clenched her jaw, ignoring them.

Then, of course, came trouble.

A familiar oily voice called out behind her.

"Well, if it isn't the little stray."

Celine sighed before turning.

Edgar Turner, the butcher's son, stood with his usual gang of brainless followers. He was broad-shouldered, with a smirk permanently plastered on his face,one that made her want to punch him in the throat.

"Edgar," she said dryly. "What do you want?"

He took a dramatic step closer, pressing a hand to his chest. "Me? Want something? Why, Celine, that hurts."

His friends chuckled.

Celine folded her arms. "I'd love to stay and chat, but unlike you, I have actual things to do."

Edgar's smirk widened. "You mean running errands for the family that doesn't even want you?"

Celine's patience snapped.

But before she could retort, Edgar grabbed her basket.

"Let's see what you've got," he mused, flipping open the lid. "Ooo, flour! You're really living the high life, huh?"

His friends laughed.

Celine reached for the basket, but he yanked it back. "Ah-ah, what's the rush? Let's have some fun first."

Something inside her snapped.

A low growl rumbled in her throat.

The boys froze.

The sound was wrong, too deep, too feral to come from her.

Celine's entire body heated, her vision sharpening. She could hear the pounding of Edgar's heartbeat, smell the faint tang of fear creeping into his sweat.

Her fingers twitched.

She could break his wrist if she wanted to.

Where had that thought come from?

Edgar took an uneasy step back. "What the hell was that?"

Celine didn't answer. She couldn't.

She was too busy trying to control the burning sensation surging through her veins.

Without another word, she grabbed her basket and ran.

Celine didn't stop until she was deep in the woods surrounding Ravenshire. She pressed her back against a tree, heart pounding.

She stared at her trembling hands.

"What is happening to me?"

The wind rustled through the leaves, and suddenly…

[You are waking up, little wolf.]

Celine spun around.

The voice was deep, rich, with an edge of something dangerous.

But there was no one there.

She swallowed hard. Was she losing her mind?

The warmth in her veins hadn't faded. If anything, it grew stronger.

She exhaled shakily. "This is just… stress. Yeah. Stress-induced hallucinations. That's all."

The forest stayed silent.

But she could feel it now,a presence. Watching. Waiting.

By the time she returned home, Margaret was already glaring at her.

"What took you so long?"

"I…"

A loud knock on the door cut her off.

Margaret frowned, wiping her hands on her apron before opening it.

A tall man clad in black armor stood on their doorstep. His cloak bore the royal emblem, and his presence alone sent a shiver down Celine's spine.

Margaret paled. "Sir… what brings you here?"

The knight's gaze swept the room before landing on Celine.

"I have come for her."

Celine's stomach dropped. "Me?"

The knight nodded.

"By order of the royal family, you are to present yourself at the palace immediately."

The room fell into stunned silence.

Celine's mouth went dry. "Why?"

The knight's expression remained unreadable…