Chapter 1 Echoes Of Another Life

• Amelia P.O.V
• The night pressed in like a living thing.
• Branches whipped across my arms as I ran through the forest, breath ragged, heart pounding so hard it drowned out everything else. My boots sank into the damp earth, sending up bursts of leaves and mud. The air smelled of rain and blood—something dark, metallic, wrong.
• The baby strapped to my chest whimpered, a fragile sound swallowed by the wind. I pressed my hand on his back, trying to quiet his trembling. “Shh… I’ve got you,” I whispered, though my voice shook too.
• Keep moving, Shea urged from somewhere deep inside my mind, her tone sharp and focused.
• “I’m trying,” I hissed.
• Faster.
• Every instinct told us we were being hunted. I couldn’t see them yet, but I felt them. The weight of unseen eyes crawling over my skin, the pressure of something ancient and cruel lurking just behind.
• I burst through a tangle of vines and stopped just short of the clearing, my chest heaving. Moonlight spilled through the canopy, silvering the grass. My pulse thudded in my ears.
• “Shea,” I whispered, scanning the trees. “Can you sense anything?”
• Nothing yet, she replied. But don’t get comfortable. Quiet doesn’t mean safe.
• “It’s too quiet,” I muttered.
• Exactly. So move before quiet turns into dead.
• I swallowed hard and stepped into the clearing. The night air was sharp and cold, with every sound amplified: the crunch of leaves, the whisper of the wind, even the soft sigh of the baby against my chest. I tried to steady my breathing and listen past the panic. Nothing.
• Then… a sound. Barely there. A low growl carried on the breeze.
• “Shea?”
• Run!
• I obeyed before I even thought. My body moved on instinct, darting between trees, dodging roots and shadows. Something crashed through the woods behind me, fast and heavy. The baby stirred, and I tightened my hold on him, whispering broken promises he couldn’t possibly understand.
• My legs ached, every muscle screaming, but stopping wasn’t an option. Once, I thought I saw light through the trees—warm, flickering—but when I stumbled toward it, it vanished. Just shadows playing tricks on my mind. The baby shifted restlessly, his warmth the only thing anchoring me to the moment. My mind flashed with pieces of a face I didn’t know—strong jaw, green eyes, the faintest trace of a smile. My heart lurched, but the image vanished before I could hold onto it. “Focus,” Shea snapped. “I am,” I whispered. “Just... not sure on what anymore.”
• I won’t let them take you, I swear.
• The trees thinned ahead, revealing a small, crooked structure that was half-hidden by overgrowth. A cabin.
• “Shea?”
• Clear. No scents. Go.
• I stumbled toward it, adrenaline surging. My fingers shook as I pushed open the door. It creaked, loud enough to make my heart lurch, but no one moved inside. Dust floated in thin beams of light. A stale, lonely quiet filled the space.
• I shut the door and slid the bolt. My breath came in ragged bursts.
• Check the rooms, Shea ordered.
• I made quick, thorough sweeps through every corner. Empty. Safe, for now.
• The baby fussed, tiny hands gripping the sling. I gently loosened it and laid him on the narrow bed. He looked so small against the rough blanket, eyes barely open. His little fists unclenched when I brushed his cheek.
• “You’re okay,” I whispered. “You’re safe now.”
• Safe isn’t permanent, Shea warned. You know that.
• “I’ll take what I can get.”
• I moved through the cabin, searching for anything useful—water, food, a weapon. Found nothing but dust and a few rusted tools. I turned on the faucet in the small bathroom; cold water sputtered, then steadied. The sound was almost soothing.
• For a moment, I let myself breathe.
• Then Shea’s voice sharpened. Someone’s coming.
• My pulse spiked. “Who?”
• Wait—don’t panic. A pause, then softer: It’s him.
• I froze, heartbeat thundering. “Our mate?”
• Yes.
• Without hesitation, I hurried to the door and slid the bolt open. The moment I did, it swung open.
• And there he was.
• He stood framed by the moonlight—tall, broad-shouldered, with blond hair that caught the silver glow. His green eyes locked on mine, fierce and familiar. My heart stuttered as recognition slammed through me, even though I didn’t know why.
• “You made it,” I whispered.
• He crossed the space in two strides and pulled me into his arms. His scent—pine, rain, smoke—hit me like a memory I didn’t have.
• “Always,” he murmured into my hair.
• I wanted to stay there, just for a breath. But reality was closing in. I could feel it in the tremor of the ground, the whisper of danger pressing closer.
• “Keep him safe,” I said.
• “I swear it.”
• The edges of the world began to blur. Light and shadow tangled, twisting around us. My heartbeat roared in my ears, faster, louder—until everything went black.
• I woke up gasping
• Sweat drenched my skin. My pulse was wild, out of rhythm with reality. The sheets clung to me like a second skin. I sat up, dragging in sharp breaths as the remnants of the dream faded around me—forest, moonlight, blood.
• The silence of my room felt wrong. Too still.
• I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and stumbled into the bathroom. My reflection stared back—pale skin, dark circles, eyes rimmed in faint gold that shouldn’t have been there.
• Rough night? Shea’s voice murmured in the back of my mind.
• “You could say that.” I splashed cold water on my face, trying to wash away the tremors. It didn’t help. “It felt real this time.”
• Dreams always feel real when they’re trying to tell you something.
• “Then I wish they’d stop whispering and just say it.”
• No answer. Only silence.
• I looked up again—and for a heartbeat, I swore I saw something behind my reflection. A forest. A flash of green eyes. spered, though my voice shook too.
• Keep moving, Shea urged from somewhere deep inside my mind, her tone sharp and focused.
• “I’m trying,” I hissed.
• Faster.
• Every instinct told us we were being hunted. I couldn’t see them yet, but I felt them. The weight of unseen eyes crawling over my skin, the pressure of something ancient and cruel lurking just behind.
• I burst through a tangle of vines and stopped just short of the clearing, my chest heaving. Moonlight spilled through the canopy, silvering the grass. My pulse thudded in my ears.
• “Shea,” I whispered, scanning the trees. “Can you sense anything?”
• Nothing yet, she replied. But don’t get comfortable. Quiet doesn’t mean safe.
• “It’s too quiet,” I muttered.
• Exactly. So move before quiet turns into dead.
• I swallowed hard and stepped into the clearing. The night air was sharp and cold, with every sound amplified: the crunch of leaves, the whisper of the wind, even the soft sigh of the baby against my chest. I tried to steady my breathing and listen past the panic. Nothing.
• Then… a sound. Barely there. A low growl carried on the breeze.
• “Shea?”
• Run!
• I obeyed before I even thought. My body moved on instinct, darting between trees, dodging roots and shadows. Something crashed through the woods behind me, fast and heavy. The baby stirred, and I tightened my hold on him, whispering broken promises he couldn’t possibly understand.
• My legs ached, every muscle screaming, but stopping wasn’t an option. Once, I thought I saw light through the trees—warm, flickering—but when I stumbled toward it, it vanished. Just shadows playing tricks on my mind. The baby shifted restlessly, his warmth the only thing anchoring me to the moment. My mind flashed with pieces of a face I didn’t know—strong jaw, green eyes, the faintest trace of a smile. My heart lurched, but the image vanished before I could hold onto it.“Focus,” Shea snapped.“I am,” I whispered. “Just... not sure on what anymore.”
• I won’t let them take you, I swear.
• The trees thinned ahead, revealing a small, crooked structure that was half-hidden by overgrowth. A cabin.
• “Shea?”
• Clear. No scents. Go.
• I stumbled toward it, adrenaline surging. My fingers shook as I pushed open the door. It creaked, loud enough to make my heart lurch, but no one moved inside. Dust floated in thin beams of light. A stale, lonely quiet filled the space.
• I shut the door and slid the bolt. My breath came in ragged bursts.
• Check the rooms, Shea ordered.
• I made quick, thorough sweeps through every corner. Empty. Safe, for now.
• The baby fussed, tiny hands gripping the sling. I gently loosened it and laid him on the narrow bed. He looked so small against the rough blanket, eyes barely open. His little fists unclenched when I brushed his cheek.
• “You’re okay,” I whispered. “You’re safe now.”
• Safe isn’t permanent, Shea warned. You know that.
• “I’ll take what I can get.”
• I moved through the cabin, searching for anything useful—water, food, a weapon. Found nothing but dust and a few rusted tools. I turned on the faucet in the small bathroom; cold water sputtered, then steadied. The sound was almost soothing.
• For a moment, I let myself breathe.
• Then Shea’s voice sharpened. Someone’s coming.
• My pulse spiked. “Who?”
• Wait—don’t panic. A pause, then softer: It’s him.
• I froze, heartbeat thundering. “Our mate?”
• Yes.
• Without hesitation, I hurried to the door and slid the bolt open. The moment I did, it swung open.
• And there he was.
• He stood framed by the moonlight—tall, broad-shouldered, with blond hair that caught the silver glow. His green eyes locked on mine, fierce and familiar. My heart stuttered as recognition slammed through me, even though I didn’t know why.
• “You made it,” I whispered.
• He crossed the space in two strides and pulled me into his arms. His scent—pine, rain, smoke—hit me like a memory I didn’t have.
• “Always,” he murmured into my hair.
• I wanted to stay there, just for a breath. But reality was closing in. I could feel it in the tremor of the ground, the whisper of danger pressing closer.
• “Keep him safe,” I said.
• “I swear it.”
• The edges of the world began to blur. Light and shadow tangled, twisting around us. My heartbeat roared in my ears, faster, louder—until everything went black.
• I woke up gasping
• Sweat drenched my skin. My pulse was wild, out of rhythm with reality. The sheets clung to me like a second skin. I sat up, dragging in sharp breaths as the remnants of the dream faded around me—forest, moonlight, blood.
• The silence of my room felt wrong. Too still.
• I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and stumbled into the bathroom. My reflection stared back—pale skin, dark circles, eyes rimmed in faint gold that shouldn’t have been there.
• Rough night? Shea’s voice murmured in the back of my mind.
• “You could say that.” I splashed cold water on my face, trying to wash away the tremors. It didn’t help. “It felt real this time.”
• Dreams always feel real when they’re trying to tell you something.
• “Then I wish they’d stop whispering and just say it.”
• No answer. Only silence.
• I looked up again—and for a heartbeat, I swore I saw something behind my reflection. A forest. A flash of green eyes.
• I blinked. Gone.
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