The gray light of dawn was filtering through the pack house as I entered Morwen’s cottage. The scent of herbs and incense clung heavy in the air, combined with the acid bite of burned candles.

I sighed as I recalled my encounter with Dane earlier this morning, even though he had asked me to leave. I could see in his eyes that he wanted me to stay with him, but even as I saw the longing in his eyes, I also saw the fear in them. I had left. But, I promised to go back soon; I must save him. I pushed those thoughts off my mind and raised my gaze to see Morwen standing at her workbench, her back to me, grinding something in a stone mortar. She didn’t turn, but said, “I was wondering when you’d come to me.”

“How the fuck did you…?” I started, but she cut me off with a wave of her hand, her curls bouncing as she turned.

“You’ve been radiating energy like a bonfire in the woods. Even the cats are on edge,” she said, gesturing to a sleek black feline that glared at me from its perch by the window.

I took a steadying breath. “I had another dream. About the silver figure.”

At this, Morwen’s hazel eyes narrowed, and she set down the mortar. “Tell me everything.”

I told her everything: how it pulsed with light, how I felt myself being drawn to it, and finally, the unmistakable vision of Dane.

Morwen listened, her face impossible to read, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. When I finished, she turned away, pacing the tiny space. “This is no ordinary dream,” she muttered.

“That much I gathered,” I replied dryly.

She shot me a look. “I’m serious, Aurora. This dream. It’s a message. Or rather, a warning.”

My stomach churned. “A warning about what?”

Morwen stopped pacing and turned to me, her face unusually grave. “Transformation.”

The word hung in the air. “What kind of transformation?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

She reached up onto a shelf and pulled down an old-looking, thick, leather-bound book. She opened the book, saying as she flipped through its pages, “The moon goddess works in mysteries and cycles, Aurora. Your connection to her is deepening, more than it should for a wolf without a true wolf spirit. It’s as if she’s preparing you for something monumental.”

“Like what?” I pressed, frustration seeping into my tone.

Morwen’s fingers paused on one page filled with intricate diagrams. “The kind of transformation that alters everything. Your dreams of the silver figure are a crossing point. To defeat the Nameless, you may need to become something…more.”

I swallowed hard. “What does that mean? What would I become?”

Her eyes met mine, filled with a mixture of pity and warning. “I don’t know. But the transformation of this magnitude always comes at a cost.”

A cold weight settled in my chest. “What kind of cost?”

“That depends on the goddess’s will. It could be your power, your identity…” She hesitated before adding softly, “Or your life.”

I collapsed onto the nearest chair, my legs giving way beneath me. The pearl pendant at my throat hummed softly, its note almost musical, seeming to vibrate with the import of her words.

“I won’t be able to walk away from this,” I said finally after an eternity of silence. “If this change is the only way to save Dane, to defeat the Nameless, then I have to welcome it. Whatever the cost.”

Morwen regarded me for a moment, her eyes probing. “You are stronger than most, Aurora. But sometimes even that is not enough.”

“What else is there?” I pressed her.

She sighed and moved closer, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Faith. And trust in yourself.”

I laughed bitterly. “Trust in myself? That’s easy to say when I don’t even know who or what I’m becoming.”

“The goddess sees you,” Morwen said firmly. “You can’t even see yourself yet.”

It seemed her words were meant to comfort me, but I only felt worse. I nodded, trying to steady the storm of emotions swirling inside me.

“What should I do next?”

“Prepare,” she said simply. “The dreams will guide you, but you must be ready to act when the time comes. And Aurora…”

“Yes?”

“Be careful. The Nameless is bound to sense the change in you. He’ll try to stop it.”

I closed my fingers over the pearl pendant. “Let him try.”

Later that night, I sat in my chambers, alone, the journal my mother had left me open on the desk before me. Words upon words no longer read like some sort of cipher language; they were alive, ran into my mind like a wave of the ocean—as if they’d always been there.

One passage jumped out:

“The silver light is both the key and the guardian. It binds the chosen to the will of the goddess, but only those who embrace their true selves can wield it.”

I ran my fingers over the words, feeling a shiver run down my spine. The silver figure in my dreams wasn’t just a guide; it was a part of me, something I had yet to fully understand.

A knock at the door broke my concentration.

“Come in,” I called, closing the journal quickly.

Evelyn stepped inside, her expression cautious. “You wanted to see me?”

I gestured for her to sit. “I need your help again. Something’s happening to me, Evelyn. Something I don’t fully understand.”

She sat across from me, her posture tense. “Is this about the dreams?”

“Yes,” I admitted. “And more. Morwen thinks I’m on the verge of some kind of transformation, one that could be the key to defeating the Nameless. But…”

“But it could destroy you,” she finished, her voice quiet.

I nodded. “Exactly.”

Evelyn leaned back, studying me. “And you’re willing to take that risk?”

“For Dane. For the pack. For our world,” I said firmly.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “You’re insane, you know that?”

“Probably,” I said with a faint smile.

She leaned forward after a moment, her face serious. “Whatever happens, you’re not facing it alone. You have me. You have the pack.”

The weight of what lay ahead still pressed heavily on my shoulders, but her words warmed something inside me.

“Thank you,” I said softly.

Evelyn rose, placing her hand briefly on my shoulder. “Get some rest, Aurora. You’ll need it.”

I nodded. But how can I sleep knowing so much?

When she had gone, I turned back to the journal, the impression of the silver figure remaining in my mind like a whispered promise.

The change was coming.