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Wolves Of Fate
🕑 Added 2025-04-15 07:17:03 +0000 UTCChapter 15 - The Face I Never Knew
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I see the war behind his eyes, a silent scream he tries to hide. The way he flinches from my touch— A heart so starved, it fears too much. I do not break. I do not bend. But gods, how soft I’d be for him. He wears his fear like armor tight, and still, he shines beneath the fight. I cannot fix what time has torn, but I can stand and face the storm. If he'll let me near the flame, I’ll learn the shape behind his name.
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A strange warmth wrapped around me, steady and grounding. It wasn’t the heat of the blankets or the distant warmth of a fire. It was something closer, something solid. A presence.
Soft, rhythmic breathing stirred against my skin, slow and even, as if someone were sleeping nearby. The faint scent of pine and something subtly sweet lingered in the air, unfamiliar yet oddly comforting.
There was weight against my back—firm, unyielding, but not suffocating. The steady rise and fall of another person’s breath matched the warmth pressing against me, their body close enough that I could feel it through the layers of blankets.
For a brief, drowsy moment, I didn’t panic.
The warmth felt… safe. A strange thing to feel, considering I had never known safety before. My mind clung to the sensation, unwilling to pull away from the comfort of it.
But then, reality slammed into me like ice water.
I wasn’t alone.
The realization jolted through my system like a shock, every muscle in my body stiffening as my breath caught in my throat. My heartbeat pounded violently against my ribs, my instincts screaming at me to move—to run—to get away before it was too late.
I tried to shift, to push myself away, but my limbs were sluggish, weighed down by exhaustion. My fingers barely twitched against the fabric of the blankets before the warmth behind me shifted as well.
"Wait!"
A voice. Familiar. Firm, but not unkind.
Sophia.
The warmth around me vanished in an instant as she pulled away. Cold air rushed over my skin, and I scrambled back instinctively, my chest rising and falling in quick, uneven breaths.
My back hit the headboard, and I curled in on myself, gripping the blanket like a lifeline. My hands were shaking. My whole body was shaking. I didn’t know why.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to get a grip, but I could still hear her. Still feel her presence.
She hadn’t moved far.
"You're safe," Sophia said softly, her voice calm but steady. "I promise. No one’s going to hurt you."
Safe.
I swallowed, my throat dry. I wanted to believe that. I really did.
But I had never been safe before.
Even now, something inside me refused to relax. My instincts screamed at me to be on guard, to stay small, to be ready to run if I had to. But then, right alongside that fear, there was something else.
Something unfamiliar.
I felt it deep in my chest—a strange warmth, a presence that wasn’t entirely mine yet still a part of me. It curled around my heart, gentle but firm, brushing against my thoughts in a way I didn’t understand.
The feeling wasn’t fear. It wasn’t panic.
It was… calm.
Reassurance.
I frowned, my breath still uneven as I gripped my chest, confused.
What was that? Was that my wolf?
Sophia shifted slightly, still keeping her distance, but I could feel her watching me.
"You’re feeling her, aren’t you?"
I blinked, my gaze snapping up to her.
"What?"
"Your wolf," she said. "She’s waking up."
My stomach clenched.
My breathing hitched, coming in shallow gasps. No. That wasn’t right. That couldn’t be right.
I gripped the blanket tighter, my nails digging into the fabric as a sharp pressure built in my chest. My thoughts tangled together, panic clawing at the edges of my mind. I can’t do this. I can’t—
"Stop running from it!"
Sophia’s voice sliced through my spiraling thoughts, forceful and edged with frustration.
I flinched, my muscles locking up as if she had physically grabbed me. My gaze snapped to hers on instinct, my breath caught in my throat.
Her emerald eyes burned, fierce and unrelenting. Not angry. Not cruel. But sharp, like she was trying to force me to see something I was too afraid to face.
"You keep fighting it like it’s some kind of curse," she said, her tone still firm but quieter now. "But it’s a part of you. Whether you want it to be or not."
My throat felt tight. I swallowed hard.
"I didn’t ask for this," I muttered, barely able to hear my own voice.
For a moment, she didn’t respond. Then, steady and unwavering, she said, "I know. But that doesn’t change what’s happening. The more you reject it, the more it’s going to hurt."
I stayed quiet not knowing what to say.
Sophia let out a slow breath, her frustration still evident but contained. For a long moment, she just watched me, like she was debating something.
Then, unexpectedly, she asked, "What’s your name?"
I blinked. The question caught me off guard.
I hesitated, gripping the blanket like a lifeline. My name. It felt small in my throat, something fragile, something I’d kept to myself for so long that saying it out loud felt… wrong.
But Sophia didn’t rush me. She just waited, her emerald gaze unwavering.
"…Sam," I finally muttered.
She nodded once, as if committing it to memory. "Sam," she repeated. "That’s a nice name."
A strange feeling twisted in my chest at that, but I shoved it down before it could settle.
Sophia crossed her arms. "You’re acting like this is the end of the world," she said, tilting her head. "But do you even understand what being Wolfen means?"
I muttered. "It means I turn into something I never wanted to be."
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "It means you heal faster. You’re stronger. You’ll live longer—centuries, if you learn to control it. You won’t have to suffer through hunger, sickness, or pain like before. And yet, all you can focus on is the one thing you don’t like."
I clenched my jaw. I hated that she made it sound like a good thing.
I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening around the blanket. "I’m still turning into a woman,"
Sophia raised an eyebrow. "And?"
I frowned. "And that’s—" I stopped short, my throat working as I tried to find the words.
But I couldn’t.
Because what was I supposed to say?
That it felt wrong? That I had lived my whole life one way and now everything was being taken from me? That the idea of looking in the mirror and seeing someone else—someone not me—terrified me?
I wanted to say all of that. But when I opened my mouth, nothing came out.
Sophia studied me for a moment before she spoke again, softer this time.
"Are you really that against it?"
The question landed like a blow to my chest.
I opened my mouth to snap back, to say yes, but the word caught in my throat. I didn't understand why.
My fingers curled into fists.
Something brushed against my thoughts, gentle and warm.
A presence.
Not Sophia.
Something deeper. Something I was beginning to get used to. I felt it stir in my chest, wrapping around the fear like a protective barrier. My wolf.
She wasn’t forcing anything, wasn’t pushing—just… there.
Steady. Reassuring.
I inhaled sharply, my body tense.
I still didn’t understand her, didn’t understand why she felt the way she did.
But for some reason, she wasn’t afraid.
Sophia must have noticed the change in my expression because she stepped forward, her voice steady. "Come on."
Before I could react, she grabbed my wrist and pulled me out of bed.
"Sophia—"
She didn’t answer. She dragged me across the room, stopping in front of a full-length mirror.
I froze.
I didn’t want to look.
But I did.
And what I saw.
I staggered back, my breath catching in my throat.
The scars… were gone.
The burns that had twisted and marred half of my face since childhood had vanished completely. The deep ridges, the raw, uneven flesh—gone.
My stomach twisted violently. My hands were shaking as I brought them to my face—slow, hesitant. Fingers brushed over my cheek… my jaw… my forehead.
Smooth.
Too smooth.
It wasn’t real.
It couldn’t be real.
I had lived with those scars my entire life. Felt them with every glance, every whisper behind my back. The disgust in their eyes. The way people looked at me like I didn’t belong—like I wasn’t human. Every mirror was a reminder of what I was. Broken.
Burned.
Ugly.
But now—
My breath caught in my throat.
My right eye.
I could see.
The realization slammed into me like a punch to the chest. My right eye—the one that had been blind, useless, dead, was clear. Bright. Whole. And for the first time… I was seeing the world through both eyes.
Too sharp. Too vivid. Everything looked wrong. Off.
I swallowed hard, my fingers trembling as they hovered near the skin. I pressed in, expecting the familiar ridges of ruined flesh. But it was smooth.
Untouched.
Perfect.
I stumbled back, legs unsteady, eyes wide as I stared at the reflection moving with me. But that person—that face—wasn’t mine. Couldn’t be mine.
That wasn’t the face I grew up hating.
That wasn’t the face they spat at.
That wasn’t me.
A sick churn coiled in my gut, acid rising with every breath. My breaths came too quick, too shallow, like I was drowning in my own skin.
This isn’t normal. This isn’t me. This isn’t me.
Who the hell was I looking at?
Where were the scars? The fire that ruined me? The pain that shaped me?
Gone.
Gone like they never existed.
And without them… what was left?
I had only ever known how to survive in the shadow of my damage. It was all I’d ever had. And now that it was gone—
I didn’t know who I was.
I couldn’t look away. Couldn’t stop staring at the stranger in the mirror. He looked whole. Like he hadn’t suffered. Like he didn’t know what it meant to be unwanted, unloved, forgotten.
He looked like someone who belonged.
Someone I wasn’t.
I barely registered Sophia behind me. Her presence was there, quiet and watchful, but distant. Her eyes might’ve held answers, but I couldn’t look away long enough to ask.
I could only stare.
At the stranger in the mirror.
