the Von de la Vega mansion, the air smelled of expensive incense and lies. Only three hours had passed since Aurora's father had returned from the woods, his face a mask of feigned grief and his clothes disheveled, announcing that his eldest daughter had been "devoured by beasts" in a tragic ritual accident.
"Oh, my poor Aurora!" her mother wailed, dabbing at a non-existent tear with a lace handkerchief. "She was always so clumsy, so slow to react... God took her to spare us further embarrassment."
Elara, her younger sister, looked at her nails while a half-smile of triumph crossed her face. Now, she was the sole heir to the family's beauty. Without Aurora around to "ruin the photos," her social ascent was guaranteed.
"At least," Elara whispered cruelly, "Baron Silas won't have to wake up next to that lump of fat every morning. We've done the world a favor."
Baron Silas, seated in a leather armchair, huffed with indignation. He didn't care about the girl's death; he cared about the money he had lost.
"That useless girl!" the Baron growled. "She couldn't even die at the right time. The contract stated the marriage had to be consummated for me to forgive your father's debt. Now, I want my money or your heads!"
Aurora's father turned pale, but just as he was about to beg for mercy, a sharp thud echoed against the mansion's doors. It wasn't a polite knock. It was a blast of authority.
The double doors swung wide, letting in a gust of freezing air that extinguished half the candles in the grand hall. In the threshold, framed by the silver light of the full moon, appeared a figure that made time stand still.
She was a woman of such devastating beauty it hurt to look at her. Her skin was as pale as the finest marble, emitting an almost ethereal glow. Her hair—a cascade of white gold that reached her waist—shimmered as if it possessed a life of its own. But what was most striking were her eyes: two mystic purple orbs that seemed to see through souls.
"Who are you?" Aurora's father demanded, stepping forward, fascinated by the intruder's presence. "This is a private wake. What are you looking for here, beauty?"
The woman advanced. Every step was a dance of grace and power. Her old physical limitations had vanished, replaced by a predatory agility. She stopped before them, her gaze fixed on the man who, barely hours ago, had tried to sink a dagger into her chest.
"Have you forgotten me so quickly, Father?" The woman's voice was velvet and fire. It wasn't the brittle voice of the old Aurora, but the song of a queen.
The silence that followed was absolute. Elara dropped her wine glass, which shattered against the floor.
"Aurora?" her mother stammered, backing away until she hit the wall. "No... that's impossible. Aurora was... she was..."
"Ugly? Fat? Useless?" Aurora finished with a cold smile that didn't reach her purple eyes. "The forest has strange ways of returning what others discard. The 'accident' you spoke of, Father, didn't go as planned."
The social impact was immediate. The servants who used to mock her under their breath now instinctively knelt. The remaining guests in the hall stood up, hypnotized by the transformation.
Elara, consumed by a jealousy that burned her insides, screamed: "Liar! This cannot be Aurora! She is a witch, a demon who has taken her place! Father, kill her!"
But her father didn't move. His eyes gleamed with a renewed greed. If the old Aurora was worth a modest dowry, this new version was worth an empire.
"My daughter!" he exclaimed, trying to approach with open arms in a hypocritical gesture. "A miracle! Heaven has transformed you to show your true purity! I knew you would survive!"
Aurora stepped back, her gaze filled with a disdain that made him falter. She did not forget the glint of the dagger. Her psychological growth had begun; she no longer sought his approval—she sought justice.
However, the most immediate danger was not her father. Baron Silas had risen from his seat. His small eyes, previously filled with boredom, now leaked a violent and possessive lust. He licked his lips as his eyes roamed Aurora's body with a gaze that made her feel filthy.
"By the gods!" Silas cried, his voice trembling with excitement. "Forget the previous contract. If this is the true Aurora, I want her right now. Let us marry tonight! I will double the dowry, triple the debt forgiveness! You will be mine, you beautiful creature, and I will lock you in my castle where no one else can see this miracle!"
"No!" Aurora shouted, but her father was already grabbing her arm with desperate strength.
"It's for the best, Aurora. Look how generous the Baron is," her father said, his regret a cheap mask. "A woman with this beauty only brings trouble if she doesn't have a strong owner. Take her to the mansion's chapel now! We won't let this luck slip away!"
Despite her new strength, Aurora still didn't know how to use her wolf power. She was overwhelmed by her sharpened senses and the speed at which her life was changing once again from one cage to another. She was dragged toward the estate's private chapel, where a terrified priest was awakened to officiate the union.
The chapel was in shadows, lit only by a few torches. Baron Silas held her by the wrist, his sweaty hand squeezing her pale skin. Aurora looked around, searching for an exit, feeling the essence of the White Wolf growling inside her, begging to be released.
"...if anyone has anything to say against this union," the priest said in a shaky voice, "speak now or forever hold your pea—"
BOOM!
The heavy oak doors of the church flew into a thousand pieces, as if struck by a wrecking force. A black, freezing mist flooded the room, dousing the torchlight.
In the midst of the smoke, an imposing silhouette appeared. A tall man with broad shoulders and hair as dark as a raven's wing entered with the elegance of an Alpha predator. His presence radiated an aura of death and authority that made Baron Silas fall to his knees from the mere weight of the power the stranger projected.
It was Castian. His eyes, a stormy gray that threatened to devour everything, fixed directly on Aurora. He didn't look at her beauty with lust, but with the recognition of one who has found the piece that was stolen from him.
"That woman," Castian said, his voice resonating like thunder in the small chapel, "does not belong to any disgusting human. She has been marked by the Moon."
Castian unsheathed a short sword that glowed with ancient runes.
"And I have come to claim what is mine by right of blood."
Aurora felt a shiver that wasn't fear, but an electric connection she had never felt before. Her purple eyes met his gray ones, and in that moment, she knew—without understanding why—that she finally had hope.