Aria’s POV

    The dream came like a storm.

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    It began with fire in my veins, the bitter burn of wolf poison coursing through me. My body writhed in agony, every breath wing against lungs that no longer obeyed me. I choked, coughed and hot blood spilled from my lips, dark and endless.

    Faces swam above me, blurred by tears. Dozens of them. Packmates? Strangers? I could not tell. But their eyes… gods, their eyes were full of grief so sharp it felt like ws raking my heart. They cried for me, voices breaking, hands clutching, and in every sound there was loss.

    They called a name—again and again, desperate, pleading. Not Aria. Something else. Something buried deep in my bones. I strained to hear it, to grasp it, but it slipped away like water through my fingers.

    Then he appeared.

    A man’s arms gathered me up, strong yet trembling with devastation. His roar split the night, torn from a chest that could not bear what it held. I wanted to answer him, to tell him I was still here, still fighting, but when I opened my mouth no sound came. My voice was gone.

    Painnced through me–not just mine, but his. His grief hollowed me, pulled me under until I thought my soul itself would shatter.

    I tried to see his face. I needed to. But every time I looked, the world blurred, shadows stealing his features away. All except one thing.

    His eyes.

    Golden. A storm trapped in molten fire. They burned through the haze, searing me with recognition.

    Lucien.

    The name tore from me in a scream-

    -and I woke with a gasp, chest heaving, sweat slick on my skin.

    My eyes flew open to find him.

    Lucien sat at the edge of my bed, one arm restingzily on his knee, golden eyes glinting with

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    dark amusement. He was watching me, as though the dream had poured straight into waking reality.

    I bolted upright, fury covering the raw terror wing at my ribs. “Don’t ever–ever–watch me while I sleep,” I snapped, my voice harsher than steel. “If you do, you will die.”

    He tilted his head, wolfish, unbothered. “Funny,” he said softly, “you just screamed my name. In your dreams, you’re already calling for me. Somehow I doubt you’ll kill me.”

    Heat rushed to my face–anger, shame, something else I dared not name. “You-” The words tangled in my throat. I shoved the nket aside, standing so fast the bed creaked. “You know nothing.”

    Without another nce, I yanked the door open and strode out, mming it behind me.

    But I didn’t see the look he gave me as I fled–the weight of thought in his eyes, sharp as a de hidden beneath the gold.

    My steps were quick, my heartbeat quicker. The dream still clung to me, every image etched into my skin like scars. The blood. The grief. That name I could not hear.

    And his eyes. Always his eyes.

    I needed answers.

    The night air bit at my cheeks as I crossed thepound, but I hardly noticed. My wolf was restless beneath my skin, pacing, snapping, urging me forward. By the time I reached Professor Maeryn’s dwelling, my hands were fists, nails biting into palms.

    The door opened before I knocked.

    Maeryn stood there, calm as ever, her gaze ancient and knowing. It was as though she had been waiting.

    “Aria?” she asked, her voice low.

    I stared at her, throat tight. “I dreamed,” I whispered. “Or… no, it was more than a dream. I was dying. Poison burning me alive. People were crying over me, calling me by a name I couldn’t hear. And then-” My voice faltered. I forced myself to continue. “A man. Holding me. Screaming for me. His pain was like… it was mine. And I saw his eyes.”

    “Gold,” Maeryn finished for me.

    The word made me flinch. I wrapped my arms around myself as if to keep from unraveling. “What does it mean? Why do I feel like I’m living someone else’s life when I close my eyes?

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    Why does it hurt so much?”

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    She stepped aside, letting me enter, and I obeyed, sinking into the chair she gestured to. The room smelled of herbs and old parchment, steadying in its familiarity.

    “You’re not living another’s life, Aria,” she said gently. “You’re remembering your own.”

    Her words struck like lightning. My chest clenched. “That can’t be. I know who I am.”

    “Do you?” she asked, tilting her head. Her eyes pierced through me, kind yet merciless. “Memories buried do not die. They resurface when the soul is strong enough ito /ibear them. Do not fear them, child. The pain you feel is proof that the truth is returning to you.”

    I shook my head, pressing my palms to my temples. “But I had another name. I heard it–felt it–but I couldn’t grasp it. Who was I?”

    Her silence was heavier than any answer.

    “Please,” I said, my voice breaking. “Tell me. Tell me who I am.”

    She sighed, old sorrow etched into the sound. “Not yet. The time is not right. For now, you must endure. The truth wille, but if you reach for it too soon, you will destroy yourself— and perhaps others as well.”

    Frustration burned in my gut, but I swallowed it. “And Aedric?”

    The faintest shadow crossed her face. “He suspects something. Your movements, your defiance… they haven’t gone unnoticed. He has eyes on you.”

    I stiffened. My wolf bristled, lips curling in a silent snarl.

    “Be cautious,” Maeryn warned. “Guard your steps, and above all, guard him.” She didn’t say Lucien’s name, but she didn’t have to. “If Aedric learns you’re hiding an enemy Alpha, it will be both your doom and his.”

    I looked down, my fists trembling. Lucien’s face rose in my mind unbidden, that infuriating smirk, those impossible eyes.

    “I can’t lose him,” I whispered before I could stop myself.

    Maeryn’s gaze softened, though sorrow lingered. “Then you must walk a knife’s edge, Aria. Hide your heart as well as you hide him. Because if Aedric sees even a spark, he will snuff it out.”

    Her words chilled me more than the night ever could.

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    When I left her chambers, the moon hung heavy above the pack grounds, silver light cutting sharp lines across the shadows. My wolf prowled restlessly beneath my skin, caught between fear and longing.

    And though I told myself to push the dream away, to forget the man’s anguished cries, I couldn’t.

    Because when I closed my eyes, I still saw them–those storm–tossed golden eyes.

    Lucien’s eyes.