I couldn't sleep.
Even after deciding to visit Gresha, the old Seer, my mind stayed restless. I kept thinking about my mother. About the pieces of her story that never made sense. The way Father's voice hardened whenever her name came up. The way he brushed off my questions when I was little.
I sat on my bed, staring at the crack where the wall met the floor, feeling the weight of memories pressing down on me.
I remembered...
Aira's laugh, like the sound of bells.
The way she used to tuck me in at night, singing songs I didn't understand.
And then—nothing.
No goodbye. No warning.
Just one morning, she was gone.
The pack said she had been weak. That she had been afraid of our kind.
Father said she betrayed him.
But the dream—the voice—it told me there was more.
I had to know the truth. I had to hear it from him.
Even if it broke me.
Morning light crept across the floor when I finally gathered the courage to leave my room. My legs felt heavy as I walked through the pack house.
I found Father in his study.
As always, he sat behind his giant wooden desk, papers spread before him. His dark hair, streaked with gray now, hung loose around his face. He looked tired, older than I remembered.
For a moment, I hesitated.
He glanced up. "Luciana. You're awake early."
I stepped inside and shut the door behind me.
"We need to talk," I said.
He raised an eyebrow. "Of course. About what?"
I swallowed. My heart hammered against my ribs.
"About Mother."
Silence.
Father leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. His face gave nothing away.
"You already know what happened," he said, voice calm.
"No," I said, stepping closer. "I know the story you always told me. But I don't think it's the full truth."
His eyes darkened. "And what makes you think that?"
I hesitated. Should I tell him about the dream? About the voice warning me?
No.
Not yet.
He would think I was losing my mind.
"Please," I said. "Just tell me everything. I need to know."
For a long time, he said nothing.
The only sound was the ticking of the old clock on the wall.
Finally, he sighed and rubbed his hand over his face.
"Sit down," he said.
I slid into the chair across from him, my hands clenched in my lap.
"I met Aira in the human world," he began, voice low. "I was passing through on... business. She was different from anyone I had ever met. Full of light. Full of life. And when I saw her... I knew she was my fated mate."
I listened, hardly daring to breathe.
"But she was human," Father said, voice rough. "And I was... not. I didn't know how to tell her. I didn't want to scare her away."
"So you didn't," I said, bitterness creeping into my voice.
"No," he admitted. "I lied. I hid what I was. I lived as a human beside her. We married. We had you."
"And then?"
His hands tightened into fists. "You were growing. And the closer you came to your sixteenth birthday, the stronger the wolf inside you became. I knew it couldn't be hidden much longer. You needed to be in Thornridge. You needed to be among your kind."
I thought of the night I woke up here as a child—frightened, confused, not knowing where I was.
"And Mother?" I asked.
"I planned to turn her," Father said, voice shaking. "There's a ritual, one that binds a human to our kind. She would have been one of us. She would have understood."
"But she ran," I said softly.
He nodded.
"I told her the truth the night before the ritual. I thought she would accept it. I thought... she loved me enough. But when she saw what we truly were, she fled."
My throat burned. "You said she was weak."
"She was," Father said, though his voice cracked. "She could not accept the truth. She could not accept me. She abandoned her duty. She abandoned you."
I stood up so fast the chair scraped loudly against the floor.
"Maybe she didn't abandon me!" I said, louder than I meant to. "Maybe she ran because she was scared—and you didn't give her a choice!"
Father's face hardened. "You don't understand the danger she put you in. A human child raised in Thornridge without guidance... you would have been ripped apart by your own nature."
"But you still lied to her," I said, my voice shaking. "You took her choice away."
He said nothing.
I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling suddenly small and cold.
"I don't even know her," I whispered. "And now... now I might lose everything because she's gone."
Father's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
I shook my head. I couldn't tell him about the prophecy yet. I needed time to figure things out.
"Nothing," I mumbled. "Forget it."
"Luciana—"
"I need some air," I said, turning toward the door.
"Luciana, listen to me," he said sharply. "Even if you found her—if she's still alive—she's not one of us. She chose to leave. She chose a different life."
I paused at the door, my hand on the knob.
"Maybe she didn't have a real choice," I said. "Maybe you took that away from her."
Then I walked out, leaving him alone in the heavy silence.
Outside, the sun was bright, but I barely felt its warmth.
The truth weighed on me like stones in my pockets.
Father had loved her.
And he had lied to her.
And because of that, she was lost.
I wandered through the trees, the familiar scents of pine and earth grounding me.
I thought about the woman I barely remembered. The woman who sang me lullabies. Who held my hand when I was small.
Was she really weak?
Or was she strong for refusing to become something she didn't understand?
I didn't know.
But I had to find out.
Even if it meant defying Father.
Even if it meant risking everything.
I stopped at the edge of the woods, staring out at the far-off hills where the human kingdom lay hidden.
Somewhere out there, my mother was waiting.
And I would find her.
I pressed my hand against my chest, feeling the slow, steady thud of my heart.
"I'll find you," I whispered again. "I promise."