Chapter Four

The morning light filtering into Amaya’s apartment felt strangely heavy. Like the world outside knew something had shifted. I sat curled on the couch, cradling the warm mug of coffee Amaya had made before rushing off to work, the steam rising between my hands like a fragile shield.

Last night’s conversation with Jole still echoed in my chest.

"I found something in the attic," he’d said. "It’s... you. Or someone who looks just like you. The photo’s old. Really old, Seri. And Mom and Dad definitely didn’t want me to see it."

That tight, hot knot in my stomach returned. I hadn’t told Amaya yet, I wasn’t even sure how to explain the flicker of memory that had stirred when Jole described the photo. A girl with ash-blonde hair. A strange crescent on her shoulder. Standing next to a man in a dark suit whose face had been scratched out.

Just hearing it made my fingers tingle again with that unsettling warmth. That same humming beneath my skin was back. Louder. Deeper. I pulled the sleeves of her hoodie down and glanced at Amaya’s phone on the table. Jole had texted her a few minutes ago:

"I’ll be off work around 3. Meet at the old park behind the library? Safer to talk there."

Even that felt loaded. Why would he need it to be safe? I leaned my head back and stared at the ceiling. I couldn’t shake the feeling that this picture might be the key to everything, or at least a start. And with each passing hour, the person I thought I was felt more like a story someone else had written for me. Something was waking up inside me, and I was starting to realize, whatever it was, it had been buried deep for a reason.

Jole's POV

I shouldn’t have gone back into the attic. I knew the rule, that the old part of the house was off-limits unless my father was present. But something had pulled me there, something more than curiosity. A whisper of intuition I couldn’t explain. The photo had been tucked away in a cracked leather-bound box beneath layers of yellowed papers. Dust clung to everything like forgotten memories.

But when I saw the girl in the picture, my breath caught in my throat. It was Serelina. At least... It looked like her. Same storm-gray eyes. Same ash-blonde curls. But the photo was dated 1993, two years before she was even adopted into our family. And next to her stood a tall man in a suit, his face violently scratched out. The only thing that remained was a silver pin at his collar, shaped like a crescent moon.

I snapped a photo of it with my phone before returning the original. I wasn’t stupid, I knew our mother would notice if anything was missing. But I had to show Serelina. Something about this felt bigger than all of them. Maybe she could feel it too.

Serelina's POV

The hours dragged. Leo offered to take me out for lunch to get my mind off things, but I declined, claiming a headache. In truth, I didn’t want to be around anyone, not while my insides buzzed like a wire about to snap. Twice I caught myself staring at my reflection in the mirror, only to find my eyes flickering, just for a second, with a glint of silver.

I blinked hard and looked again. Normal. Still, the image clung to my thoughts. I dug through an old duffel bag that I had left at Amaya’s place that had some of my things in it. I pulled out my journal, an old spiral notebook with creased corners and pages half-filled with scattered poetry and dreams I could never quite explain.

But today I flipped to a fresh page and wrote:

“Something is wrong with me. Or maybe... something is finally right?”

When the clock hit 2:40, I stood, pulled on the hoodie and Converse, and quietly slipped out of the apartment. The walk to the park was short, but every step made my chest feel tighter. The world looked the same, but didn’t feel the same. It was like walking in a memory you didn’t remember making. When I reached the old park behind the library, I spotted Jole sitting on the rusted swing set, hood up, foot bouncing with nervous energy.

He looked up—and gave me that same warm smile he’d had since we were kids.

"Hey, stranger."

I managed a weak laugh. "Got something to show me?"

"You have no idea."

He pulled out his phone and held up the photo. My breath caught. My legs wobbled. It was me. It was me. And suddenly, everything inside me snapped wide open.

Flash Back...

My fingers brushed the phone screen. And the world tilted. The picture pulled me in, too sharp, too real. A scent hit my nose: sandalwood and smoke. Laughter echoed faintly, warm and low, just behind my ear. The man’s hand rested gently on my shoulder in the image, I could feel the weight of it, even now, even through time.

Then came the sound of glass shattering. A scream. My own? A woman’s voice yelling my name. The man turned, shielding her. "Run," he told me. Then fire, roaring fire, and the scent of burned wood and fur. The image blurred, my breath caught in my throat, and for one awful second, my legs stopped working. I was falling.

And then I was back. Back in the park. Knees buckled. Heart in her throat. Jole grabbed my arm. “Whoa! Lina, what’s wrong?” I blinked rapidly, tears stinging my eyes. “I…I remembered something. Just a second. But it was... it was real. I think this man…he tried to protect me. There was fire. I was little. And that pin…he wore that same one in the photo.”

Jole frowned. “You do know him?”

“I don’t know.” I ran a shaky hand through my hair. “But my body does.”

Jole's POV

I helped her sit down, my eyes scanning her face. “Okay, this is going to sound nuts... but I found that photo yesterday. I was in the attic, looking for the stupid air mattress for my friend, and stumbled across this old chest Mom keeps locked up.”

“Wait,” Serelina said slowly. “She locked it up?”

I nodded. “Yeah. It’s always been off-limits. But the key was left in the padlock, and I swear, it felt like it was meant for me to find.”

I pulled out my phone again and zoomed in on the crescent pin. “This symbol? I’ve seen it before. There’s a carving on the old mirror in the hallway at our house, same shape, same design. I think... I think it means something.”

Serelina’s hand unconsciously reached for her shoulder, over the crescent-shaped birthmark.I caught the movement. “Lina... do you think that mark of yours and this photo are connected?” She didn’t speak. Didn’t need to. Because we both knew the answer already.

Ferren's POV

I paced the dim corridor outside the nurse’s lounge, eyes locked on my burner phone. It hadn’t buzzed in hours, not since my last update, the one where I confessed Serelina had slipped away unnoticed. The silence had stretched like a noose, tight and suffocating.

I hadn’t slept. Couldn’t. Not with the blood test report still hidden in the storage room. Not with the subject, Serelina. wandering somewhere in the city, unprotected, unstable. When the phone finally buzzed, I snatched it up like a lifeline.

Draven: Tracking is in progress. She’s been marked. I’ll explain shortly.

My stomach dropped. Marked? I racked her brain. No trackers had been implanted, and nothing about Serelina’s body had been tagged. Unless… The blood sample. My eyes widened. Had Draven pulled something from it? The phone buzzed again.

Draven: There’s a secondary tether. Old blood. Legacy bond. Weak, but traceable, now that Lucian's back in range. That was always the contingency.

Lucian. Of course. I cursed under my breath. So that’s what this was really about. Not just watching Serelina. Not just controlling her. But watching him, too. And that made everything more dangerous.

Draven’s POV

Deep beneath the surface, I stood before a pulsing map of the city. Faint signals flickered, mostly noise, but one beacon glowed steady now, low and silver, like a thread reawakened.

"She’s near him," I murmured. Lucian had returned to the city days ago, slipping in under radar. The variable. The protector. The failure of his last experiment. And now? The linchpin.

I tapped the glass where both signals overlapped faintly. The legacy tether, ancient, barely detectable, was reigniting, drawn by proximity. Not physical blood, but resonance. Old magic.

Fated bonds always left a trace, even if the two souls didn’t remember. I turned to my technician. "I want location pings every hour. If their bond activates fully, we’ll be able to trace her directly through him."

"And if he realizes?"

My smile was as cold as ice. "Then we’ll be ready." I picked up the case file again and ran a finger along the line that had once been redacted.

PROJECT CRESCENT: Viable Alpha-Born. Containment Required.

"It’s time to tighten the circle," I said, more to myself than anyone. "Before the wolf wakes completely."