Chapter 3 Shadows At The Border

• Amelia P.O.V
• The cold dawn air brushed against my face as I jolted awake, heart pounding. The remnants of the dream clung to me like shadows — the silver forest, whispering voices, and that dark figure watching from afar. I rubbed my eyes, trying to shake the images, but they lingered behind my eyelids like burned-in afterimages.
• My room smelled faintly of pine and the lingering scent of herbs from Rayven’s care kit on the windowsill. I swung my legs over the bed, wincing as every muscle protested. My body ached the same way it did after the dreams, as if I had run for hours through real forests.
• I dragged myself to the bathroom. Steam rose from the sink as I splashed water on my face. My reflection stared back at me, dark circles under amber eyes, tangled hair, and pale, drawn skin. The faint bruise at my collarbone still stung when I touched it.
• “Just a dream,” I whispered, though my voice wavered.
• I let the warm shower relax my tense muscles, washing away the remnants of the night, but not the unease twisting in my gut. After I toweled off and dressed in my training clothes, I forced my face into its usual calm expression. Whatever this was, I couldn’t let anyone see it. Not yet. Only Lira and Rayven knew, and that was enough, I thought as I headed out of my room and toward the training grounds to meet Lira.
• At 5:00 a.m., Lira was already stretching near the forest clearing. Her hair, the color of burnished copper, was pulled into a tight braid that swung over her shoulder. Eyes like glowing embers watched me critically as she shifted her stance, wolf instincts flickering in every measured movement. Fiery and fierce, yet grounded, she moved with the calm authority of a born warrior.
• “Early bird,” she said with a grin, though her stance was taut and ready.
• “Trying to beat the forest,” I muttered.
• We started hand-to-hand sparring, each strike ringing through the clearing as we moved between attack and counterattack. I copied techniques my father had taught me, but Lira’s style added a new rhythm, sharper, more instinctive. Every punch was precise, meant to teach control.
• “Your footwork!” she barked. “You’re favoring your left again.”
• I adjusted, sweat gliding down my spine, the scent of damp earth thick around us.
• “Better,” she said between strikes. “But your balance still drops after a dodge. Keep your stance solid.”
• Her critique cut through the fatigue, grounding me. When we finally parted, breathing hard, my muscles ached from the effort.
• Afterward, we moved further into the forest for wolf-form training. We quickly undressed, neatly folding our clothes on a nearby rock to prevent tearing them during the shift.
• The transformation rippled through me, heat and tension bursting beneath my skin as bones stretched and fur spread like wildfire. My human thoughts blurred with instinct as my vision sharpened. I stood on four paws, muscles thrumming beneath sleek midnight fur.
• Next to me, Lira’s copper-brown wolf appeared, strong and glowing, sunlight shimmering on her golden flecks.
• We didn’t need words. The forest served as our training ground. Every rustle, scent, and flicker of movement heightened our senses. We circled, lunged, and darted through the trees, muscles tense and claws digging into the ground.
• Our wolves communicated through faint mindlinks, quick and instinctive — wordless flashes of thought, a shared awareness that kept us in sync. No commands, only trust.
• When it was over, we headed back, we grabbed our clothes, and dressed quickly, grounding ourselves in the calm after the storm.
• “Better control,” Lira said with a smirk, brushing leaves from her braid. “You’re learning to move like a wolf, not a soldier.”
• I smiled faintly. “Guess I’ve had a good teacher.”
• She rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it, as we headed back to the pack house for a quick shower and breakfast.
• The pack hall smelled of fresh bread, sausage, and roasted meat as I descended the stairs. Long rectangular tables stretched across the room; some were filled with warriors swapping stories. At the head of the high-ranking table sat the Alpha with the Beta and Gamma and their families, eyes surveying the room with calm authority. Omegas moved quickly between tables, serving plates and refilling mugs; their movements were precise and efficient.
• Rayven was already there, sitting near the center. Her dark hair cascaded in loose curls over her shoulders, and her green eyes carried that familiar steady warmth. She looked up as I approached and offered a small nod of greeting.
• “Morning,” she said softly, sliding a plate of eggs, sausage, roasted potatoes, and fresh fruit toward me, along with a steaming mug of coffee. “Up early today?”
• “Yeah,” I murmured, settling in. “Trying to get a jump on training.”
• An omega passed by, topping off our drinks. “Anything else for you two?” she asked. “More juice, tea, or coffee?”
• “Coffee’s good,” Rayven said. “Thanks.”
• I poured cream into my mug, inhaling the steam before taking a sip. The omegas bustled around the hall, balancing trays and softly greeting warriors and younger pack members alike. The room buzzed with chatter: laughter from a group of warriors recalling yesterday’s sparring, and omegas whispering about who was on kitchen duty the next day.
• Rayven leaned slightly toward me. “I noticed you were restless last night. Sleep light?”
• “Yeah… dreams again,” I said, tearing off a piece of bread and grabbing some honeyed fruit. “They’re getting stronger.”
• Rayven’s expression softened. “You’ll figure it out. You always do. And remember, you have the pack — warriors, betas, omegas, all of us — we all play a part.”
• I nodded, letting her words sink in as I enjoyed the hearty meal. The eggs, sausage, roasted potatoes, and fruit were filling, and the coffee helped me get ready for the day ahead.
• After I finished breakfast and said my goodbyes to Rayven, I headed to the library to look for books on realm jumpers or anything that could help with these dreams I'm having. Soon it was lunchtime, and I went to the dining hall.
• Lunch followed the same rhythm. The pack hall was alive with the chatter of hundreds of pack members at long tables, warriors trading stories, omegas bustling between trays of roasted chicken, rice, roasted vegetables, fresh bread, and fruit. Drinks of water, iced teas, and fruit juices were passed along each row.
• Lira and I sat together, sharing a plate of chicken and rice. “Afternoon patrol’s going to be long,” she said.
• “Better fuel up,” I replied, nibbling a piece of bread. “The omegas did a great job.”
• “They always do,” she said. “And if we keep going like this, we’ll need all the energy we can get.”
• An omega paused beside our table, placing a small dish of honeyed berries. “For you two,” she said softly, giving a small smile before moving on.
• By mid-afternoon, Lira and I headed out for border patrol. The forest stretched endlessly, alive with rustling leaves and distant birdsong. Sunlight dappled the moss underfoot.
• “Feels quiet,” Lira murmured.
• “Too quiet,” I replied. My wolf stirred beneath my skin, uneasy.
• A low growl shattered the calm.
• From the underbrush, a rogue lunged — gaunt, wild-eyed, fur matted with blood. Its movements were erratic, desperate. I sidestepped, catching its arm and twisting, using momentum to throw it to the ground. Lira moved like lightning, claws flashing in controlled strikes that kept it pinned.
• Its silver eyes glinted with something… familiar.
• “You!” I snarled, gripping its wrist. “Who sent you?”
• The rogue wheezed, blood bubbling at its lips. “You… carry their scent… the same as before…”
• My pulse spiked. “What do you mean?”
• Before I could demand more, the rogue convulsed — and went still.
• Lira cursed. “Poison. Damn it.”
• A faint mark on its wrist caught the light — two interlocking crescents, glowing softly, identical to the one from my dream.
• “Lira,” I breathed. “This symbol… it’s the same.”
• Her expression hardened. “You’re sure?”
• I nodded, the forest suddenly too still.
• Moments later, Rayven appeared from the path, her calm presence cutting through the tension. “Amelia. Lira. Handled?”
• “Yes,” Lira said tersely. “Poisoned before interrogation.”
• Rayven nodded, her healer’s instincts analyzing the body. “I’ll report to the Alpha,” she said, her voice steady. Our eyes briefly met, sharing understanding and a silent promise before she turned and disappeared into the trees.
• We finished our patrol and headed back towards the pack house, talking in low voices about the symbol and what might be happening.
• Dinner was a feast. Long tables were packed with members laughing, recounting their day, and enjoying venison stew, roasted root vegetables, fresh bread, and fruit. Omegas moved with practiced efficiency, serving plates, refilling mugs, and keeping the hall clean. Warriors recounted training successes, betas discussed future patrols, and young pack members whispered excitedly about hunting trips.
• Lira and I sat at a corner table, quietly dissecting the day’s events while savoring the stew. “The omegas outdid themselves again,” she said, wiping her hands.
• “They always do,” I replied, tearing bread and dipping it into the stew. “We’re lucky to have them.”
• That evening, after the hall quieted, I returned to my room. Shadows stretched across the floor. Kneeling beside the wardrobe, I pulled open a small, loose panel, my hidden space. Inside rested my parents’ journals. My secret.
• I traced the worn leather of the first one before opening it. A sketch stared back: two interlocking crescents, identical to the mark on the rogue. Beneath it, my father’s handwriting read:
• “The symbol of the Gateway — the bridge between realms, guarded by bloodlines chosen by the moon itself.”
• Chosen bloodlines.
• The words sank like a weight in my chest. The dreams, the mark, the poison—all are parts of the same web. My parents had guarded something powerful. And now, it was my turn.
• I closed the journal softly.
• Lira leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, copper hair catching the dim light. “We’ll figure it out,” she said quietly. “You’re not alone in this.”
• I nodded, the truth sinking in. Deep within, my wolf stirred restlessly, alert, aware.
• The dreams weren’t just warnings. They were a call.
• And I was running toward something I didn’t yet understand.
• © 2025 Blessed Be. All rights reserved.
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