Dark Heaven City had once been a place of life and laughter, a living miracle whispered about beyond its borders. Wolves and humans had shared its streets as though the world had never known division. Humans walked freely beneath open skies, unafraid ,laughing loudly, trading in markets, arguing over trivial things, living as if the city were their birth right.Wolves moved among them in disciplined harmony, silent, watchful, powerful, yet unthreatening. Their presence was neither feared nor worshipped; it simply was peaceful.
Strangers who wandered into Dark Heaven often found themselves unable to leave. They lingered, eyes wide with disbelief, unable to comprehend how two vastly different beings could coexist side by side without bloodshed. To outsiders, Dark Heaven City was not merely a place it was proof that peace was possible.
But peace, I learned, is fragile.
That world died long before I was old enough to remember it.
Now, wolves and humans were bound not by harmony, but by separation,hatred and fear, stitched together by laws soaked in blood.
The once-blooming city had withered into something desolate ,brutal, quiet and tense. Streets that once rang with laughter lay eerily quiet. Doors were barred. Windows shuttered. Hope itself seemed to rot in the shadows.
The wolves lived apart, confined to their own quarters beyond the great wall. Their territory was heavily guarded, governed by the Alpha and marked with ancient red seals said to be older than the city itself. Humans, on the other hand, lived under constant watch. Many were imprisoned without trial, accused of crimes as small as suspicion. Though we shared the same Dark Heaven City, an unmistakable line divided our lives in two, one of power and one of fear. Carved deep into stones and law.
I learned the cost of that division when I was still a child.
It happened on a bright afternoon, the kind that makes you believe the world is gentle. I was playing with other children on a slanted rooftop, our laughter echoing across the narrow street below. We ran barefoot, daring one another to leap from tile to tile, careless and free. Then I slipped.
The pain was sharp and sudden as my palms scraped hard against the rough stone. I barely noticed the blood at first only the sting. Someone laughed. Someone told me to stop being dramatic. I climbed down and went inside to fetch water, intent only on washing my hands and returning to play.
I still remember how clear the water was.
I cupped it in my palms and watched as crimson dripped from my wounds, swirling into the basin. And then something impossible happened.
My blood glowed.
A soft, fractured blue shimmer bloomed beneath the surface, luminous and unnatural, as though moonlight had dissolved into my veins. The glow pulsed faintly, alive, beautiful in a way I did not yet understand. For a single heartbeat, I was mesmerized. I thought it was a gift. Something rare. Something meant to be treasured.
Then I heard the screaming.
The laughter died instantly. The other children froze, their faces draining of color as they stared at my hands. Terror twisted their features. One of them stumbled backward, nearly falling off the step.
"Monster," someone whispered.
Another screamed it louder. "Monster!"
"You're a monster!" "You're a wolf!"
The words struck me harder than the fall ever could.
"You're a monster. You're a wolf," they shouted, voices rising in panic as they ran toward their homes, calling for their parents. Adults spilled into the street, their eyes locking onto me, onto my glowing blood, and then filling with horror.
I covered my hands, my face, my entire existence, and ran.
I didn't know where I was going. I only knew I had to get away. My heart thundered violently in my chest as fear clawed up my throat. I ran until my lungs burned and my legs trembled, certain that at any moment I would hear the heavy boots of palace guards behind me.
Only God knows what would have happened if they had caught me.
Execution would have been swift, if I was lucky.
I burst through my front door sobbing, collapsing into my adopted parents' arms. My body shook violently as I cried, the terror refusing to release me.
"Mom," I choked. "They called me a monster. They said I was a wolf. They said I was something worse."
My mother held me tightly, rocking me as though I were still a baby. My father closed the door and locked it, his hands trembling as he drew the curtains shut. They cleaned my wounds carefully, scrubbing away every trace of blood, every hint of blue, as though erasing it could protect me.
"Lara, baby," Mama whispered, cupping my tear-streaked face. "You're not a wolf."
"You're a unique breed," my father said firmly, his voice steady despite the fear in his eyes. "You're our child. You're human."
Then came the warning: the words that would shape my entire life.
"Never show anyone your gift," Mama said, her voice breaking. "Never let your blood touch water in front of anyone. Never."
"Especially wolves," Dad added. "They are evil. They will steal your gift—or imprison you. Or worse."
From that day on, fear became my shadow.
I grew up hearing the same words over and over—not just in my home, but everywhere. Every human child was taught to avoid wolves at all costs. Alpha or pup, it didn't matter. Wolves and humans didn't attend the same schools, didn't share the same markets, didn't even breathe the same air if it could be avoided.
And then there was the wall.
A massive barrier of stone and iron split Dark Heaven City in two, etched with ancient runes and sealed with the Alpha's red mark, violent, absolute. No human dared cross it. No wolf dared approach from the other side. Those who tried, those foolish or brave enough to step too close were executed on the spot.
I saw it happen once.
A boy. Barely older than me. Curiosity shining in his eyes as he reached toward the seal. The guards didn't hesitate. His body fell before his hand ever touched the wall.
Even children were not spared.
Still, despite everything, my eyes always wandered.
From my bedroom window, I watched the wall as though it were alive. I traced the glowing seal with my gaze, imagining what lay beyond it. I felt something pull at me something deep and relentless, a calling I could not explain.
What was behind those walls? Why did my blood glow? And why did my heart ache for a place I was forbidden to see?
Dark Heaven City had taught me fear.
But it had also planted something far more dangerous inside me.
Longing.