Amara.
I opened my eyes slowly, but the brightness of my room forced them shut again almost immediately. It took several attempts before I could keep them open for longer period of time.
I stared blankly at the familiar ceiling, then I unhurriedly let my gaze drift around the room. The bed. The curtains. The wardrobe by the wall.
It was certainly my room.
But how did I get here?
My hand flew to my temple as I forced myself upright. Pain flared instantly—my back ached, my knee throbbed, and almost every joint in my body felt sore, as though I had been stretched and twisted for some circus show.
The memories came slowly, hazy and mostly disjointed. There was training. The pack grounds. Everything played out as my memory permit it to—right up until the moment I was told to let my wolf out.
After that, my mind was nothing but a shattered glass.
Did I lose control again?
Did I hurt anyone?
A tight knot formed in my chest. I lowered my head, pressing my face between my knees as my arms wrapped around them. My body trembled, and my breathing grew shallow and uneven. It took everything I had in me not to break down completely.
Why couldn't I just live as a human forever?
Why did this part of me have to exist at all?
Knock. Knock.
"Amara, dear? Are you awake?"
I flinched at the sound of my grandmother's voice. Hastily, I wiped beneath my eyes, rubbing at the tears before they could fall.
"Grandmother?" I called, my voice unsteady despite my effort to control it.
The door creaked open. Grandmother stepped in first, her expression heavy with worry—followed closely by Seraphina, who wore her usual expression, except this time, it didn't seem like she was completely unbothered.
"How are you feeling, dear?" Grandmother asked as she crossed the room and sat beside me.
"I'm fine," I said quickly, nodding and forcing a small smile onto my face.
I knew she didn't believe me—even I didn't believe myself.
"Oh, honey," she murmured, taking my hands in hers. "You had a rough day today, didn't you? I'm so sorry."
I shook my head, denying it instinctively. But the effort was futile. Because all too suddenly, my lips trembled, the dam broke, and tears streamed freely down my face.
Embarrassment burned through me. I couldn't bring myself to look at either of them. But before I could retreat further into myself, Grandmother pulled me into her arms. Her familiar warmth enveloped me instantly, steadying and unbelievably comforting. A moment later, Seraphina joined us, her embrace gentler than I'd ever known it to be.
That was when I truly lost it.
My quiet sobs turned into broken wails as I clutched onto them both.
"It hurt," I cried. "I don't want to lose control again. I don't want to turn again. What if next time I don't stop?"
They didn't interrupt. They didn't rush me. They only listened.
For a long while, I cried until my chest ached and my throat burned. And yet, strangely, I felt no shame any longer.
When my tears finally subsided, Seraphina brought me a bowl of soup Grandmother had prepared earlier. I ate slowly, my appetite dull and nonexistent, as though my body wasn't completely awake yet. As if my consciousness was in some far off dreamland.
"Grandma, you should rest now that she's up," Seraphina said gently. "I'll stay with her."
"I'm fine," Grandmother replied at once. "I can stay a little longer."
It was only then that I truly noticed how heavy her eyelids were, how fatigued she appeared. And still, she wanted to stay.
Guilt twisted inside my chest.
"Grandmother," I said softly, forcing a smile, "you look tired. Please go and rest. I'll sleep after I finish the soup anyway."
She hesitated.
"She'll be fine," Seraphina assured her.
Reluctantly, Grandmother agreed and left the room.
After she was gone, I finished the soup, then took a shower to wash away the grime and sweat clinging to my skin.
When I stepped out, Seraphina was waiting.
"Is your hair bothering you?" she asked. "I can braid it if you want."
I turned toward the mirror—and frowned.
My hair streamed down my back, nearly reaching my calves. It was longer, thicker, fuller than I remembered. The transformation had caused the growth. And unlike everything else, my hair never reverted.
"Can we… cut it instead?" I asked quietly.
Seraphina frowned. "Why? It's beautiful."
"I can't go around like this," I said, my gaze fixed on my reflection. The hair was beautiful—black, glossy, impossibly smooth. But that was exactly the problem. The color reminded me too much of my wolf's fur.
That was why I always kept it short. And if my mother hadn't stopped me, I would have dyed it into any color but black after that first shift.
"It's hard to maintain," I added. "And I don't like long hair."
Not entirely a lie.
Seraphina stepped closer, running her fingers through it. "I've always envied your hair," she murmured. "We can cut it tomorrow. You'll be uncomfortable if we do it tonight."
Then she pulled me toward the chair in front of the mirror and pushed me down gently.
"For now," she said brightly, "let's braid it."
I hesitated—then nodded.
Her fingers moved skillfully, weaving my hair into neat braids as she hummed softly.
"Seraphina?" I asked.
"Mmm?"
"Was it… Grandmother who brought me home?"
She paused, then seemed to understand. "No. The Alpha did."
My breath caught. "He did?"
"You were unconscious," she said quietly. "He told us what happened."
I swallowed. "Did he say… if I hurt anyone?"
The silence that followed was suffocating.
"You were worried about that?" she asked tenderly.
I nodded. "Did I?"
She squeezed my hand. "No. Training is supervised. You weren't allowed to hurt anyone. You're not the first to lose control—and you won't be the last."
"Really? Are you sure?" I asked, still doubtful.
Seraphina knocked me lightly on the forehead. "Yes, silly! Stop worrying about unnecessary things and focus on learning how to control the wolf…everything will be much easier afterwards."
That is easier said than done…My wolf was feral—monstrous even. How was I supposed to tame it?
And as if summoned by my thought, a sharp pain bloomed in my chest. I gasped, clutching at my chest as a low growl echoed inside me.
It wasn't angry.
It was upset—and offended.
"Are you okay?" Seraphina asked.
"I'm fine," I lied.
Eventually, she finished my hair and excused herself for the night.
When I was finally alone, the pain faded slowly, almost reluctantly.
I knew it felt what I felt. I was well aware that my rejection wounded it just as deeply as its existence wounded me. But more than that, I knew it cared about me—about us.
But I refused to acknowledge that. I refused to admit that it was not as monstrous as I had made it out to be.
I walked to the window, craving for some fresh air. When I opened the window, I instinctively looked down and froze.
A massive white wolf stood below, black markings tracing the edges of its ears and tail. Its blue glowing eyes locked onto mine without as much as a blink.
I should have been afraid. Instead, I stood there, stunned and breathless in awe. The sight of the majestic wolf stripped me of all my fear.
Come.
The voice echoed clearly inside my mind.
Come, Amara.
My heart pounded. "Is it you?" I whispered, looking at the wolf.
Yes.
It didn't move. It just stood there staring.
Waiting.
Go. My wolf encouraged. It was rare for her to speak to me if it wasn't a disagreement.
And for whatever reason, I did not reject her. It was the first time after awakening that I didn't feel the needed to oppose her.
Because truthfully, her presence at that moment felt right—although I wouldn't admit that. In front from that unexpected guest, her presence felt necessary.