Chapter 2: The Pull Of Legacy
Midnight's chill clung to Amira as she trudged back from the clearing, the leather-bound book pressed tight against her chest. Her mind buzzed with unanswered questions, but her expression remained as cold and unreadable as the moonlight on the trees. She didn't cry. She didn't tremble. She just walked, jaw clenched, every muscle taut.
She hated surprises. And tonight had been one long, relentless ambush.
Back at her room, she slammed the door shut with enough force to rattle the picture frames. She kicked off her boots and flung the book on her bed before pacing in tight circles like a caged wolf.
"Alpha Ryker... Moonlight Pack... Prophecy," she muttered, her voice edged with sarcasm. "What the hell is this, some fairytale BS?"
She ran a hand through her blue curls, tugging at them in frustration. Solitude had always been her safe haven. The quiet was predictable. People weren't. And now, not only did she have to deal with strangers showing up in cloaks and dumping ancient secrets on her—she had to process being the daughter of some mystical werewolf leader?
She scoffed. "Heir to a throne," she spat. "They must be joking."
But the pendant around her neck was still warm. Still pulsing. Like it had a mind of its own.
Amira yanked it off and tossed it onto her nightstand.
Yet the visions returned. Faces she didn't recognize. Wolves howling under eclipsed moons. Flames. Battle cries. And her own voice, commanding warriors in a language she didn't speak.
She gasped and steadied herself on the edge of her desk.
"Ugh! I hate this!" she growled. "Why me? Why now?"
A knock interrupted her tantrum.
"Amira?" her foster mother's voice called from the hallway.
"Not now!" she snapped.
A pause. Then footsteps retreating. Good. She didn't need comfort. She needed answers.
Grabbing the book again, she flipped it open and began to read. Slowly, methodically, scanning each page like she was studying for an exam. Because that's what she did when things didn't make sense: she learned. She figured it out. She took control.
The more she read, the less she wanted to believe. The Moonlight Pack was one of the oldest in werewolf history. Her father, Alpha Ryker, had ruled with both wisdom and ferocity, until his betrayal by the Shadow Fangs—a rival pack that sought to conquer the supernatural realms.
Ryker's mate—her mother—had died protecting Amira as an infant, sending her away into hiding with a protective enchantment. An enchantment that erased her identity... until now.
Amira's chest tightened. She didn't want to care. She didn't want to feel anything. But deep down, a spark ignited. A rage that someone had stolen her life. That they had let her grow up among humans, powerless and unaware.
"They're going to regret that," she muttered.
By dawn, Amira had devoured half the book. Her eyes were bloodshot but burning with resolve. If someone wanted her to play princess, they'd be sorely disappointed. She wasn't here to be saved or pampered. If there was power in her blood, she'd use it to write her own story.
And if anyone got in her way?
They'd learn just how sharp her claws could be.
Suddenly, her phone buzzed again. Another message. This one wasn't cryptic—it was a command:
"Come to the clearing at the base of the Black Pines. Noon. Alone."
Amira narrowed her eyes. She didn't like being ordered around. But something inside her stirred—a calling she couldn't shake. She threw on her jacket, grabbed the pendant, and tucked it into her pocket.
By the time the sun was high, she stood at the edge of the woods. The Black Pines loomed like ancient guardians. Shadows wavered between the trees.
She stepped forward. Every leaf crunch beneath her boot echoed in the quiet.
"Amira," a voice purred from the darkness.
A man emerged. Tall, lean, with eyes that burned gold. He wasn't the same as the stranger from last night. This one radiated danger. His aura was cold and coiled like a predator.
"You've awakened it," he said.
"What?" she snapped.
"The bloodline. The power. It calls to the ancient laws. You're no longer invisible."
She crossed her arms. "So? What do you want from me?"
He took a step closer. "To warn you. There are others who have felt your awakening. And not all are as… civil as I."
"I don't need your protection," she growled.
He smirked. "No, you don't. But you'll need allies. Unless you plan to take on the entire supernatural underworld by yourself."
Amira turned on her heel. "Watch me."
And with that, she disappeared into the woods, heart pounding—not with fear, but with anticipation.
Destiny wasn't knocking. It was breaking down the door. And Amira was ready to meet it head-on.