Chapter Twelve

Night draped Thornridge in velvet shadows, and the moon, usually my comfort, felt like a witness I couldn't escape. I stood at the tree line, wrapped in a plain cloak that made me look more like a traveling healer than the Luna of an Alpha. The Seer had told me to blend in, to wear no symbol of power or status. I was not Luciana of Thornridge anymore—not to the human world I was about to enter.

I was just a girl with a secret and a mission.

The Seer waited for me near the river's edge, her gnarled fingers drawing new runes into the soil with a stick soaked in ash and herbs. She barely looked up when I arrived.

"You're late," she murmured.

"I had to… I left a note," I said, adjusting the satchel on my shoulder. It held a few essentials—herbs for healing, a blade for safety, and the Veilglass tucked in a velvet pouch. I didn't bring anything else from the pack. Nothing that could give me away.

"Your Alpha will wake soon," she said, her eyes narrowing at the dark horizon. "When he senses your absence, the bond—even severed—might tug him. We need to move."

"I'm ready." My voice was quiet but firm.

She nodded and led me through the dense underbrush. We walked in silence, my boots pressing soft against the mossy earth. Every step felt like a goodbye. The trees whispered my name in the wind. The woods I had grown up in, trained in, cried in—these woods were watching me leave.

We stopped at the mouth of the forgotten trail, a place I hadn't dared to explore since childhood. It was said to be cursed, the way grown wolves say "cursed" to keep curious pups from stumbling into danger.

The Seer turned and handed me a tiny leather pouch.

"Salt, dried bloodroot, and moon ash," she said. "You'll need it to close the gate behind you. Otherwise, anything might follow."

I nodded and tied it to my belt.

"What about the guards?" I asked, glancing around. Thornridge had patrols stationed at all points, especially after the last border attack from rogue wolves two months ago.

The Seer grinned. "They won't see us."

She bent low and whispered something in a language I didn't recognize. The runes she had drawn earlier shimmered faintly in the dirt, and a cool wind rustled the leaves. My skin prickled. My wolf stirred, weakly.

"Now," she said. "Step where I step. Say nothing."

I obeyed.

The forest felt different under her spell. The usual night sounds—crickets, owls, rustling in the trees—vanished. It was like we were walking through a painting of the world, not the world itself. I couldn't smell anything. Couldn't even hear the crunch of my own steps.

It wasn't long before we reached the river's edge.

There, covered in thick ivy and silver moss, was a stone arch I'd never noticed before. It looked like it had grown out of the earth, ancient and waiting.

"This is it," the Seer said.

The arch had a single word carved into it, long worn by time. I traced it with my fingers, though I didn't recognize the language.

"What now?" I asked.

"You speak your name. Three times. With purpose. If the gate recognizes your bloodline, it will open."

I looked at her. "And if it doesn't?"

She only smiled.

"Then we both die standing here. Hurry."

My heart pounded as I stepped under the arch.

I took a deep breath and placed my hand on the cold stone.

"Luciana," I whispered.

A flicker of light stirred behind the vines.

"Luciana," I said again, louder this time.

The stone warmed beneath my palm. The air shimmered.

"Luciana," I said a third time, my voice firm and full of every reason I had for doing this—for my mother, for the child I had never met, for the wolf I was still trying to hold on to.

The vines trembled and began to peel away, curling back as though afraid of my touch. A hollow groan came from the arch, deep and ancient. Then, a rip opened in the air, like cloth tearing under too much pressure.

I stepped back as the portal revealed itself—liquid light framed by stone. Beyond it, I saw buildings. Lights. A road. It looked like a memory I never had.

The Seer handed me the pouch of moon ash.

"When you cross, toss it into the wind behind you. Speak nothing. Don't look back."

"What happens if I do?"

"The gate will stay open… and it may never let you return."

That fear coiled around my spine like a snake, but I nodded. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," she said. "The path ahead is darker than you think. But your mother's soul is tied to yours. If she's alive, you'll feel her. Trust that."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and turned toward the portal.

It hummed softly, waiting.

With one last look toward the woods—toward Thornridge, toward Darius, toward the only life I'd ever known—I stepped through.

The world shifted.

My stomach lurched. The light turned sharp, then dull, then sharp again. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't hear. For a second, I wondered if I'd made a mistake—if I'd vanished entirely.

Then, air rushed back into my lungs.

I stumbled forward, coughing, and fell onto damp concrete.

Everything smelled… different. Not wrong, exactly, but foreign. Metal. Smoke. Oil. I blinked, adjusting to the dim yellow streetlights above me.

Cars passed by in the distance.

I was in the human world.

Behind me, the portal crackled faintly.

I reached into my pouch, pulled out the mix of ash and salt, and flung it behind me.

The wind swallowed it instantly, and with a soft hiss, the portal sealed shut.

Silence followed. I was alone.

No wolf could follow.

No magic could reach me here.

Only me, my fading wolf, and the hope that I'd find my mother before it was too late.