---
The moment the cry echoed through the grove, the wolves leapt to formation—blades drawn, eyes glowing, teeth bared. Lucian was in front of Sophia in an instant, his hand pushing her behind him while his other summoned flames from the air itself, a fiery sword flickering into existence.
The trees around them trembled, the shadows deepening unnaturally. From within the darkness, figures began to form—not beasts, not fae, but something twisted. Wraiths. Ancient remnants of cursed souls, bound to the land by forgotten blood rituals. Their hollow eyes fixed on Sophia.
"They're here for her," Selene muttered grimly, pulling Sophia back. "The land sings of her return. The old curses... they stir."
"But why now?" Sophia whispered, heart hammering.
"Because you're awakening. You've crossed into the vampire kingdom, and the land itself remembers you."
Lucian snarled, his body shifting as his wolf half surged forward—fangs lengthening, claws extending. He launched into the fray, his fire-infused strikes burning through shadowy forms, but the wraiths didn't go down easily. They screamed—high, horrible sounds—as if echoing the pain of thousands of years.
Sophia felt it then—a pressure in her chest. A pull. She dropped to her knees, gripping the earth, and the ground beneath her bloomed. Flowers of gold and silver erupted around her in a protective circle, pulsing with her magic. The wraiths recoiled from the light.
Her wings burst halfway from her back with a painful crack, and she cried out, tears streaking her face. Lucian turned sharply—his rage turned to panic. But she held up a hand. "I'm okay," she gasped. "I can feel it… they're reacting to me. I think I can stop them."
Selene stepped beside her, chanting ancient words, reinforcing Sophia's blossoming power with the old magic of the witches. The circle of light expanded, forcing the wraiths to retreat into the woods, their screams vanishing with the mist.
When it was over, the grove was eerily silent.
Lucian dropped beside Sophia, catching her before she collapsed. Her skin glowed faintly now, and her wings—still only halfway grown—shimmered with ethereal threads of moonlight.
"They're coming more often," he said, voice low. "Your power is calling to everything that's ever sought the throne, the prophecy… or you."
Sophia looked up at him. "Then we keep moving. We find the truth. We survive this."
Lucian touched her cheek, a fierce glint in his eye. "We don't just survive. We make sure you claim everything that's yours."
---