That night, Esme hadn't retired to her chamber.

Sleep eluded her, but more than that, she didn't want to sleep. When the corridors had grown quieter, she slipped away with a few clothes, knowing the hours were late enough that no one would follow.

Donovan had fallen asleep right after their confession session, so she knew she needn't worry about him jumping on her by this time of the night. Just thinking about what happened back there made her cheeks bloom, especially the part where he said it back, and she knew he meant it.

However, this was not the time to reminisce about that, whilst she shook the moment from her mind.

Gathering her thoughts, she headed for the training grounds. The moonlight cast a silver sheen across the corridor, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the still air as she walked by. Only the night guards were awake, patrolling the perimeters as they should.

She had given strict instructions to keep the entrance to the training ground secured, mainly to ensure she would not be disturbed. This night was going to be hers alone.

When she was finally in the solitude of the grounds, her gaze swept across the open space. It wasn't unusual for a few overworked warriors to fall asleep here after training. She had encountered a few warriors who do that often, even in her old pack, but tonight, it was empty, just as she had hoped.

Esme shed her dress and changed into a fitted two-piece outfit. She adjusted the straps of her boot before glancing around once more. Only then did she allow her hands to tremble.

She lifted them into the moonlight, and she studied them with a mixture of awe and dread. How she had managed to suppress her panic earlier– after the hairbrush incident was a mystery.

But she couldn't pretend it hadn't happened. Not anymore. Rather than running away from all her problems like she had always done, it was time for her to start facing them all and getting all the answers she needed along with it.

"I wonder if I can summon it," Esme murmured, her fingers curling into fist. The majority of times something like that happened, it was either due to emotional challenges or intent. If there was really some power stirring within her, then it needed more than her emotions. It required purpose.

She won't be able to summon it by standing idle. She had to make sure she wanted it this time around. To understand it. To be able to control it.

Grounding herself after inhaling deeply, she turned toward the small stack of hay piled neatly against the training yard wall. This time, she summoned her reason; why she needed to harness the fire. What was at stake if she didn't.

She raised her hand and narrowed her eyes, willing the heat to stir within her. At first, nothing happened, which almost led to a sense of disappointment. But then, a faint shimmer, with the flicker of a blue flame, ignited at her fingertips like a candle catching flame. Encouraged by the sight, she pressed harder, only to push her thoughts too far, so much so that her hair began to glow along with it.

Without warning, a violent surge of blue fire erupted from her palm, a torrent so fierce it hurled her backwards. The force knocked the breath from her lungs as she twisted midair and landed hand on her feet, barely keeping her balance.

Immediately, her eyes toward the hay, and it was already ablaze.

It wasn't just burning– but devouring them too. The fire raged unnaturally hot, reducing the entire stack to nothing. Not even ashes were left behind. Only when there were no more hays left did the flame vanish, leaving only silence in its wake.

Esme blinked.

"Whoa!" She looked at her palms again, and a smile formed on her lips. Then she tried again.

And again.

And again.

Each attempt was unpredictable– an unstable dance of flames and recoil. Her frustration mounted as she had a hard time controlling the flames, but she pressed on, refusing to give up.

SPLASH!

Water flew from the bucket in her hands as she threw it over the training dummies, dousing the fireball she had unintentionally hurled their way.

Breathing hard while soaked in sweat and guilt, Esme stared at the steaming dummies.

"Ooookay, Donovan might actually kill me for this one," she muttered, flinging the bucket aside with a dull clatter.

Her hand rested on her hip as she looked around the training ground she had almost set on fire. Her palms were still tingling with warmth, and a curious thought nudged at the back of her mind.

"It's so strange…" she murmured to herself, a slow frown crossing her features. "They wouldn't work before. So what changed? Was simply having faith all that I needed to activate this flame kaboosh kind of power or—"

She paused, her brows furrowing as unease prickled down her spine. Something felt off. Upon returning to her chamber after calling it a night, her gaze immediately shifted to the mirror across the room. It glinted in the dim-light, and it wasn't just reflecting, but beckoning her as well. Cautiously, she approached the mirror, remembering what she had seen the last time she stared into it.

Currently, she was looking at it as if expecting some kind of revelation to emerge from the depths, but the surface remained still. Only her own reflection met her gaze, and for some reason, frustration twisted through her. With a sharp breath, she lifted her arm, her fist clenched, ready to shatter the glass since it was pissing her off for reasons she had no clue about.

But before her fist could come in contact with the glass, the mirror suddenly rippled like disturbed water.

Her reflection shifted, and there she was again, but not entirely. Her mirrored self stared back at her with haunting gold eyes, ones that obviously didn't belong to her. It almost drew a laugh of disbelief from Esme, as if confirmed her suspicions.

"Who do you think I am?" she asked, taking a step back. "Using my own face against me won't stop me from breaking the mirror and ending this hallucination, so you better start explaining to me who and what you are."

In response to her demands, the mirrored version of her tilted its head, the frown curling into a knowing, twisted smirk that sent a chill down Esme's spine.

Suddenly, a powerful unseen force surged through the room, slamming into her chest and throwing her backward. She landed on her feet but staggered, colliding with the wall behind her with a grunt.

Her heart pounded, and she whipped her gaze back to the mirror. However, what she saw this time around wasn't her reflection.

In its place was a majestic blue wolf, its form both terrifying and mesmerizing at the same time. Blue flames danced across the furs like a living inferno, flickering with unnatural hues. It reminded her of the first time she had laid eyes on Donovan's wolf.

While his was shrouded in mist, this one was ablaze with fury.

The creature's golden eyes held hers, piercing through her and burning into her core with an ancient, wordless judgment. More pissed rather than scared, Esme once again lunged forward, raising her fist to destroy the mirror, but before she could land a strike, a powerful voice resonated in her head.

"Your audacity has become admirable," said the feminine voice, and it made Esme freeze at the spot. "With my awakening, the countdown has only begun. You chose this path, Esme of the Montague line, and now you must see it through."

"What?" Esme blinked. Those words weren't spoken out of triumph, but condemnation.

"Are you my—"

"Worse," replied the voice in her head. "We were both created to end the curse, and that is what we will do. I am not your wolf, if that is what you're thinking, but yes, I dwell within you. I tried my best to avoid what is to come, but fate has found us both. Now I'm left with no choice but to fulfill the role I was destined for, and that is to help you defeat the true bearer."

Esme's pupils dilated, and a shiver ran down her spine. Why could she sense pure bitterness from the way it spoke? None of this sounded good to her.

—-

Meanwhile, Donovan had stirred from his slumbers. The only difference was that he hadn't woken up to due to nightmare or the true bearer's confrontation.

Something– or someone– was in his chambers, and his senses proved him right. Cause the minute he sat up, he was immediately startled by the presence of a silver-white-haired girl standing just by the window, her back facing him.

He didn't need her to turn before he realized exactly who it was.

"It's you," he uttered in disbelief, and only then did she turn around. Her eyes were a milky white, aglow with something not of this world. Wordlessly, she extended her hand to him.

Donovan simply stared at the small, pale, trembling hand, and of course, he knew better than not to just stand up and take the hand of a complete stranger. His instincts warned him otherwise, but then, almost as if his reluctance was felt, the girl took a step forward with her hand still out for him to hold, and as if drawn by fate's own hand, he got out of bed, crouched, and took hers in his, but if only he knew.

"I'm sorry," the girl whispered with tears shimmering her eyes. It slipped down her cheek, but it for a moment, Donovan felt like he was under some sort of spell, cause he could not physically act according to his thoughts.

She placed her other hand on his forehead, and Donovan's eyes immediately turned white as well, mirroring hers.

Then, he saw everything.