The Hidden Wing

I couldn't sleep that night.

Thoughts of my mother, of the blood that pulsed inside my veins, and of a destiny that clung to me too tightly—all of it kept my chest heavy. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Lucan again on his throne.

And behind him… the silhouette of a wolf with eyes that pierced into my soul.

***

The castle at dawn was silent.

My bare footsteps echoed softly against the stone floors. The air smelled of old wax and something more ancient, something that whispered from between the shadows. I followed it.

I wasn't sure where I was going. But something inside me—my heart or maybe my blood—guided me.

My fingers trailed along the wall. Rough. Cold. But there… behind the stone… a sound. A whisper. Almost too soft to be real.

I stopped at a fork in the corridor. One path led down the grand hall, lit by steady torches. The other—a smaller, forgotten door half-cracked open, cloaked in dust.

My steps turned toward the forgotten.

The room beyond was narrow and unlit, save for a small crack in the ceiling where moonlight spilled through.

A spiral staircase twisted downward, stone steps damp with time and silence.

"What are you looking for down here?"

I jumped.

A man stepped from the shadows—tall, dressed in the uniform of a royal guard. The silver wolf sigil glinted on his chest. But his eyes… his eyes recognized me.

"I was just… walking," I said carefully.

He studied me for a long moment, then nodded. "You weren't walking randomly, Lady Elara. This place… once belonged to your mother."

My heart dropped.

"You… you knew her?"

"All of us did. But few still dare to speak of her."

His name was Arven.

***

A member of the inner guard—those sworn to the last true Luna. And apparently, he'd been watching me from afar, under orders left by my mother long before her death.

"This wing," Arven said as we descended the steps, "was hidden away long ago. Used by the Luna to store prophecy, artifacts, and... truths not meant for every ear."

"Why hide them?"

"Because what's down here could topple a crown—or save a kingdom."

Our footsteps echoed until we stopped before a large metal door etched with symbols of moons, blood, and eyes.

"This opens only to Luna's blood," Arven whispered. "Touch it."

My palm pressed to the cold metal. It warmed instantly.

A pulse of violet light crawled across the carvings, like veins waking from centuries of slumber. The door groaned. Then it opened.

Inside… was another world.

High ceilings bore paintings of women with glowing eyes, holding full moons in their hands. Shelves stacked with ancient scrolls and unknown artifacts lined the walls. The air smelled of old wood, magic, and time.

But in the center stood the most striking object of all: a tall silver-framed mirror, decorated with bloodstone and amethyst.

"That mirror belonged to your mother," Arven said softly. "Only her blood can see what lies beyond it."

I stepped closer.

**

At first, I saw only myself. But the reflection changed.

I saw a version of me—older, stronger, eyes glowing like the moon. Behind her stood a legion of wolves. And beside her... Lucan. But not as a king. He stood behind me.

The mirror shimmered.

Then I saw her—my mother. Standing where I now stood. Her face was serene, powerful. And behind her... the crowned wolf. Eyes glowing with sorrow.

"What does this mean?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"That mirror shows not the past or future," Arven said, "but possibility—based on the path you choose."

***

I stared at it for what felt like an eternity.

If this was true… then I wasn't just a wanderer lost in a foreign world.

I was part of its healing. Or its destruction.

And I would have to choose.

Not now. But soon.

"Thank you, Arven," I whispered.

He nodded. "When you're ready, return here. Your mother left many messages in this place... but they'll only reveal themselves in time."

I looked up at the stone ceiling as if trying to see through it.

Somehow… I knew. Tonight was not the end of my confusion. It was the beginning.

And I would no longer run from it.

***

I reached out to touch the mirror's silver frame. It was cold—yet beneath the surface, a subtle thrum pulsed through it, like something alive and waiting.

Was this how my mother felt?

Had she once stood where I stood now, staring into uncertain reflections of what she could become… or destroy?

Arven stepped back, giving me space as the mirror continued to ripple. Its surface shimmered like water disturbed by wind. My reflection shifted again and again—too many versions of myself.

I saw myself strong, leading wolves into battle. I saw myself falling, alone in fire and ash. I saw a future where I ran away. A future where I bled. A future where I was crowned.

And then I saw… something else.

Me—sitting on Lucan's throne.

Wolves bowed at my feet. My posture was regal, but my eyes… were hollow. Cold. There was no love in them. No light. Only power.

I stumbled back, my breath hitching.

"This mirror isn't just a guide," I whispered. "It's a warning."

Arven stepped closer. "You saw something that unsettled you?"

I turned toward him. "I saw too much. Every possibility felt like a trap."

He nodded solemnly. "Destiny offers choices, not answers. But Luna's blood doesn't lead to ruin—unless you reject it."

I let out a shaky breath. My head ached, not from exhaustion, but from something heavier. There was an energy in this chamber—an ancient pressure. A thousand voices pressed into my skin, whispering truths I wasn't yet ready to hear.

"What did my mother leave in this place?" I asked, turning away from the mirror.

"There are heirlooms, hidden teachings, scrolls… but most are sealed with magic," Arven said. "Only time and your readiness can unlock them."

"Readiness?" I echoed. "I don't think I've ever truly been ready for anything in my life."

"But you're here now," he said gently. "And that counts."

He guided me to the far side of the chamber, where a weathered wooden chest rested beneath a stone arch. He pulled open the top drawer. Inside was a leather-bound journal, aged but well-kept. The crescent moon symbol was embossed on the front.

"This is your mother's writing."

I hesitated before taking it. Even the touch of it sent a jolt through my chest—like holding a memory too powerful to contain.

The first page flipped open on its own.

"To my daughter, who reads this after I'm gone. I do not know how long it has taken for your blood to awaken this place. But if you are here… then your path has begun."

My hands trembled as I traced the elegant script.

"I want you to know that I loved you more than anything. And the choice I made to send you away tore me apart. But I knew, one day, you'd return. The world needs you—not to replace me, but to become more than I ever could."

Tears welled in my eyes.

"You will be guided. You will be hurt. But only you can decide what you become. Darkness will rise, Elara. And when it does, don't let them take your heart. As long as your heart beats with light… the kingdom still has hope."

I closed the journal and clutched it to my chest.

"She knew everything," I whispered. "She knew I'd find this."

Arven said nothing. He didn't need to. Some grief is too old to be spoken and too sacred to interrupt.

I wiped my cheeks and straightened myself. "Arven… does Lucan know about this place?"

His expression shifted—tightening. "Perhaps. But he cannot enter. He is not of Luna's blood. He is a guardian of your legacy… not the heir to it."

I let those words sink in.

Lucan was not the center of this world. I was. This wasn't just a story about a wolf king and a girl lost in his lands. This was my story. My blood. My voice.

We left the chamber just as dawn broke.

The soft orange light spilled through tall stained glass, illuminating the dust like golden stars suspended in the air.

From somewhere above, I heard distant footsteps echoing through the halls. But I didn't care.

Against my chest, I held my mother's words.

And for the first time in this strange, violent world…

I didn't feel afraid.