The Dream of the Wild
Moonlight spilled into Aren's room through the tall windows of the Winson estate. Despite the grandeur surrounding him, the boy slept uneasily, tossing beneath silken sheets. The glittering masks, the whispers of rival families, the heavy weight of the ball — all faded into darkness as a new world emerged.
He was standing in a forest unlike any he'd ever known. Silver light bathed the trees, turning shadows into living forms, and a chill wind carried scents both strange and intoxicating. The ground beneath his feet pulsed with life.
Aren's heart raced. He tried to run, and when he did, he found he was faster than thought possible, moving with a grace and strength that made the wind itself seem to part for him.
Then he saw himself in the reflection of a nearby stream. His hands were… not human. Clawed. Covered in sleek, dark fur that shimmered faintly in the moonlight. His eyes glowed golden, sharp, and commanding.
He had shifted.
A thrill ran through him — pure instinct, pure power, a pulse that felt ancient. Yet he didn't understand it. Who was he becoming? Why did the forest feel like it belonged to him?
From the shadows emerged creatures. Wolves? Larger, spectral, and with eyes that glowed red. They moved around him, circling him, their movements fluid and deliberate. Despite their intimidating presence, Aren felt… connected, as if they recognized him.
Then, ahead, a larger figure emerged from the mist. A beast taller than any wolf, muscular, radiating power. It snarled — but there was something familiar in the shape, the stance, the commanding energy.
Aren froze. He didn't know what to do. Instinct screamed at him to fight, to assert dominance, yet he had never felt anything like this before. Then, without thinking, he ran.
He ran through the forest, leaping over roots and rocks, heart hammering, lungs burning, feeling a strength that felt beyond human, yet entirely natural. The wind whipped through his fur, his claws dug into the earth, and for a brief moment, he tasted freedom, power, and fear all at once.
The larger beast pursued him, but whenever Aren glanced back, the figure hesitated — as if it recognized a spark in him, something primal and unclaimed.
A low voice echoed in the darkness, not heard but felt:
"You are more than you know…"
Aren woke with a gasp, sweat clinging to his brow. Moonlight streamed through the window, painting the room in silver. His chest heaved as if he had truly been running through the forest.
Aiden Thomas, sleeping in a small bed nearby — as he often did when accompanying Aren on the rare trips to the estate — stirred. He rubbed his eyes, yawning.
"You were tossing all night… you okay?" he asked, voice thick with sleep.
Aren sat up, heart still racing. "I… I had a weird dream. That's all."
Aiden nodded, unconcerned. "Probably just the ball and all that pomp got in your head. Don't think about it. You're fine."
Aren forced a shaky smile. He didn't tell Aiden what had happened. How could he? He didn't understand it himself. The forest, the power, the golden eyes — none of it made sense. All he knew was that something inside him had awakened, something ancient, something beyond human.
And for the first time, Aren felt the pull of the legacy his father had kept hidden from him.