The dream came in flashes.
Blood in the snow.
Footsteps that weren't mine.
A silver cage hidden beneath the Alpha Hall.
And Rowan's voice echoing down a hallway that had no end.
"You left me in the dark, Papa."
With my skin drenched in sweat and my heart racing, I sat up gasping.
Beside me, Rowan was still asleep, his chest gently rising and falling. Three wolves—one little, one golden-eyed, and one scarred—were still on the floor from the drawing he had done the previous evening.
I stared at it.
The lines were too clean. Too detailed. His little hands shouldn't have been able to draw with that kind of precision.
A pulse of fear ran through me.
He was changing.
And I was clueless on how to stop it.
Early that morning, Jace dispatched a messenger.
"Meet me at the west archives. Come alone."
The message was unsigned, but I knew the handwriting. I'd memorized every curve of his letters when we were boys.
I left Rowan with the healer in the Alpha wing—on edge, but needing answers more than I needed to hover.
The west archives were beneath the council library—ancient storage rooms sealed with lunar-coded locks. Only Alphas and archivists were granted access.
I found Jace waiting in the far corner, lit by the pale beams of morning light filtering through the narrow window slits.
He looked like hell.
Eyes hollow. Clothes wrinkled. A thick folder clutched in his hand.
"What is it?" I asked.
He didn't answer.
Just handed it to me.
Inside were files.
Medical scans. Gene charts. Pack law edicts.
But what caught my attention was the first page:
"Project Emberline: Subject 4C - Rowan Vale"
My stomach dropped.
I flipped the pages faster.
Subject 4C displays early signs of instinct surge.
Suggested containment: Phase 1 suppression + bond severance.
Report filed by: Garrick Thorn
"Your uncle," I breathed.
Jace nodded tightly.
"I didn't know this existed. These records were hidden in a secondary archive. He buried them."
"What is Project Emberline?"
"It was a council-endorsed research program," Jace said quietly. "Designed to identify pups with rare ancestral traits. They were trying to find descendants of the Old Lines."
My mouth went dry.
"And Rowan...?"
"They flagged his blood match the day he was born."
I shook my head. "That's not possible. He was born far from here. I never reported him. No one could've known."
Jace stared at the folder. "Unless someone tracked you."
A shiver went through my body.
For a few minutes, we sat in silence.
My hands shaking, I gazed at the folder.
"Why would they do this?" I whispered. "Why him?"
"Because the Old Lines carried more than strength," Jace said. "They carried power. Influence. Control. Wolves who could sway others without command. Change form without the moon. Lead armies without bloodshed."
I looked at him sharply. "Rowan's just a child."
"But they don't see him that way," he said. "They see him as a weapon. One they can shape from the inside out."
I stood abruptly, backing away. "I should never have come back."
"I'm glad you did."
"This wasn't a homecoming, Jace. This was a trap."
"It was a chance," he said. "To fix what they broke. To protect him."
My breath hitched.
"I thought the rejection was your choice," I said quietly. "But now..."
Jace looked up at me. "It never was."
We returned to the Alpha wing just before midday.
I entered the guest room to check on Rowan—and froze in the doorway.
He wasn't in the bed.
He wasn't on the couch.
He wasn't anywhere.
"Rowan?" I called, panic sharp in my throat.
No answer.
Then I heard something.
A low voice.
Coming from the bathroom.
I opened the door with a push.
With wide eyes, Rowan stood before the mirror, gazing at his image.
He was talking.
But the voice wasn't his.
Not entirely.
"They took the blood from my arms. They said I was special. That I'd light the forest when the moon fell."
"Rowan?" I whispered.
He blinked.
Looked up at me.
His eyes dimmed—returning to soft, pale blue.
"Papa?"
I dropped to my knees and held him close.
"What were you saying just now?"
"I... I don't remember."
"Who told you about the forest?"
He tilted his head. "I believe I had a dream about it."
I didn't get any sleep that night.
I watched Rowan's chest rise and fall while I sat by his bed.
Every sound made my skin twitch.
Every creak of the wood made my wolf stir.
I couldn't get the voice out of my head.
They took the blood from my arms.
That wasn't something a child would invent.
That was a memory.
A buried one.
One that didn't belong to a four-year-old.
When Jace appeared in the doorway around midnight, I didn't look up.
"He remembers things he shouldn't," I said.
"I know."
"What if it's not just instincts?"
Jace stepped inside. "What are you thinking?"
"What if... what if someone put something in him?"
Jace stiffened. "Like what?"
"An imprint. A command. A trigger. If he was part of a project like Emberline, maybe they planted something."
Jace looked pale. "Like programming a wolf?"
"Yes."
Jace sat heavily on the nearby chair, rubbing his face.
"This is bigger than us."
"No," I said. "This is ours. And I'm not letting anyone take him again."
We brought Rowan to the healer at first light.
She performed a deeper aura scan—pulling memories from his emotional body, watching his energy field ripple like water under moonlight.
And then—
She gasped.
"What is it?" Jace demanded.
She stepped back, visibly shaken.
"There's something sealed inside his instinct memory. A block. A command."
"Can you remove it?"
She shook her head. "Not without harming him. It's woven into his emotional matrix. If we cut it, we risk erasing parts of who he is."
I felt sick.
"Who did this?" I asked.
"I don't know," she said. "But it wasn't someone from this pack."
That evening, Rowan drew again.
This time, not wolves.
People.
Four figures.
Three tall.
One small.
The smallest stood behind bars.
And above them was the same symbol Jace had described from the west field—a crescent moon broken in two, with jagged claws slashing through it.
I took the paper gently.
"Who are these people, baby?"
"I don't know," Rowan said. "But the one behind the bars keeps whispering to me at night."
Jace and I exchanged a look.
"Whispering what?" I asked.
Rowan glanced at the drawing.
Then whispered:
"Soon, the moon will bleed… and I'll be free."