Nathaniel lay in bed—silent, hollow, and drowning in something rare for him: desperation. Hopelessness clung to him like a second skin. His normally sharp, commanding gaze was dull, empty as he stared through the open balcony doors. The stars—once a source of comfort—now felt unbearably distant, as though they, too, had abandoned him.
The pack house was shrouded in an eerie stillness, draped in collective mourning. Their Luna had been declared dead. Mariah’s voice had delivered the blow with certainty, her magic affirming what no one had wanted to believe. Now, even the flickering lights in the hallway seemed like false promises—mocking reminders of a future that would never be.
Nathaniel felt as if the sky itself had collapsed inward and swallowed everything he held dear. First his mother. Now his mate—gone before he ever had the chance to meet her. The bond, once a glowing thread of possibility, had frayed into nothing. He had never touched her. Never heard her laugh. Never even whispered her name. And yet, he mourned her like a man who had lost the love of his life. Like a widower who could still feel the ghost of his beloved beside him.
Everyone spoke to him with pity in their eyes. “I’m sorry for your loss,” they said. “Sorry for your Luna.” But their words passed through him like smoke. Empty. Meaningless.
Tonight, the grief was a living thing, clawing at his insides, wrapping around his ribs, squeezing his lungs until he couldn’t breathe. Guilt consumed him—guilt for not saving her, for still breathing when she no longer could. He hated every inhale. Every heartbeat. Why was he still alive?
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And then—he heard it.
A melody, haunting and unearthly, drifted into the room. It was fragile, otherworldly, like a song made of glass and sorrow. It called to him—not with words, but with ache.
Nathaniel’s brows furrowed. His body stilled. His limbs refused to obey, heavy as stone, yet something pulled at his consciousness. His eyes fluttered shut, and in the next breath, he was no longer in his bed.
He stood in a forest—dense, unfamiliar, and ancient. The melody echoed through the trees, beckoning him. He followed, heart pounding, until a scream tore through the air. A scream full of agony. Full of fear.
Then he saw it: a massive, time-worn door, half-buried in the earth. Old. Cursed.
And behind it—her voice.
“Please—someone help me!”
Raw. Frantic. Breaking.
“Please, it’s dark—I can’t—I can’t breathe. Please…”
His wolf surged forward, howling, desperate. But something unseen lashed around Nathaniel’s body, freezing him in place. He fought it. Clawed at it. But no sound left his lips. Even his own body betrayed him.
Behind the door, fists pounded. Wood splintered.
She was real.
He could feel her pain now, burning through the bond like fire beneath his skin. His soul was tearing apart.
“Let me out! Please!”
Then, a sob. A scream.
“I don’t want to die in here—I don’t want to die alone!”
Nathaniel looked down. His feet were wet. Red.
Thick. Dark. Flowing.
Blood.
He wanted to tear the door apart—but it had no hinges. He wanted to reach her, hold her, tell her he was coming. But he couldn’t move.
She was behind that door. And she was dying.
Then—
“Please…someone…” Her voice cracked, barely a whisper now. Her strength was gone.
And then—blackness.
Nathaniel shot upright in bed, gasping, drenched in sweat. His chest heaved as he tried to make sense of the silence around him. But when he looked down—his blood-slicked feet were still red.
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