Chapter 8 “Threads Between Realms”

• Amelia P.O.V
• Sleep didn’t come quietly.
• I lay in bed staring at the ceiling long after the emergency meeting, long after Lira and Rayven walked me back like I was something fragile that might shatter if left alone too long. The pack house settled into its nighttime rhythm—footsteps faded, doors closed, quiet laughter turned to silence. But my mind refused to be still.
• The Gate wants you, Shea had whispered.
• The realms are waking.
• I turned on my side, then my back, then my other side, covers twisted around my legs.
• Eventually, exhaustion dragged me under.
• Silver light swallowed everything.
• I stood in the clearing.
• Except this time… I wasn’t the only one.
• In the distance, just beyond the curve of the trees, I caught a glimpse of him, broad shoulders, blonde hair, our son tucked safely against his chest. My heart lurched.
• “ Mate,” I breathed, even though he was too far away to hear.
• I started toward him, but the ground shifted beneath my feet like the forest itself was rearranging, pulling us along different paths. No matter how fast I walked, he stayed ahead of me, always just on the other side of the trees.
• “Wait!” I called.
• He didn’t turn, but my soul felt his urgency. He wasn’t ignoring me. He was being dragged too.
• Branches whipped at my arms as I pushed forward. I caught flashes of him between trunks—his profile, the gentle way he adjusted the baby in his arms, the way his body moved like he was built for battle and burden both.
• The air around us changed.
• Colder. Thinner. Heavier.
• Then the forest opened into a clearing I had never seen before.
• A temple rose from the earth—stone and shadow and moonlight. Pillars cracked with age, vines glowing faintly where they clung to its walls. Symbols lined the outside, some dim, some pulsing like they were alive.
• He stepped toward it, unaware I was behind him, like the dream held us in separate layers.
• I reached for him, but my hand passed through his shoulder like fog.
• “Something’s wrong,” I whispered.
• Shea moved inside me, sharp and alert.
• “This is not your path in this world. Not yet,” she says.
• “My path?” I whispered back. “He’s in danger.”
• I tried again, reaching for the baby. My fingers brushed the edge of his blanket—warm, real—and then slipped through. My chest tightened.
• The temple doors shifted open on their own.
• He walked inside.
• I followed, because there was no universe where I would turn away.
• The interior was colder than winter, but the cold felt… clean. Old. The walls were covered in symbols—spirals, crescents, lines connecting in a pattern I almost recognized. The same pattern from the margins of my father’s journals. From the drawing under his note about the Gateway.
• My mate moved toward a central pedestal, the baby still held close. A strip of cloth lay on it, embroidered with a perfect pair of crescents—unbroken, glowing softly.
• His hand brushed near it.
• Something crawled out of the shadows.
• A twisted figure, jerky and wrong, its body bending like bones weren’t meant to move that way. The corrupted mark burned on its wrist—crescents split with that harsh jagged slash. Corruption. The same as the rogue in the waking world. The same as the ones that spoke my name.
• It lunged.
• I screamed, but my voice didn't reach him. He moved anyway, reacting on instinct, shifting his stance to protect the child even as he struck. I watched him fight like I was standing behind glass—helpless, forced to witness.
• He was powerful.
• Precise.
• Every hit was controlled and brutal. He reminded me of our elite warriors—only more… anchored. Like the forest itself moved with him.
• Still, the creature laughed, a broken gargle that scraped my nerves.
• “The gate… unguarded…” it wheezed.
• My heart hammered.
• The temple walls pulsed.
• The symbol above the entrance—pure crescents—flared, then flickered. For a breath, I saw a second symbol overlapping it, like a reflection misaligned:
• My broken mark.
• The corrupted version.
• The hunted one.
• I staggered back.
• Shea pressed close, her presence steady and fierce.
• “He is the other half,” she says. “Guardian and hunted. Gate and key. Blood and bond.”
• “I don’t understand,” I whispered.
• “Not yet. But you will.” She says.
• The creature dissolved under his grip, smoke devoured by the temple’s cold breath. My mate steadied our son, holding him tighter. The murals lit up around him, light tracing pathways through crescents and lines like a map.
• The word guardian whispered through the chamber, carried on a current I felt in my bones.
• Then everything fractured.
• The temple, my mate, even the sound of the baby’s breathing broke apart into bright, blinding shards of light.
• The forest vanished.
• The silver light collapsed.
• And someone else’s voice—ancient, layered, the same that had spoken to me in the waking world—murmured in my ear:
• “Bloodline… you are not the only one the Gate calls.”
• I gasped awake, sitting bolt upright.
• The room was dark. My heart pounded against my ribs like it was trying to break free. My throat ached like I’d been shouting.
• Moonlight spilled through the window, illuminating my hands.
• My right wrist burned.
• I swallowed, lifting it slowly.
• A faint outline glowed just beneath my skin—a half-formed symbol, like a bruise made of light. Two crescents twisted, split by that same jagged line.
• The corrupted mark.
• Shea went deadly quiet inside me.
• “That wasn’t there before,” I whispered.
• “No,” she said, voice low. “It wasn’t.”
• A knock sounded at my door, soft but urgent.
• “Amelia?” Rayven’s voice. “I heard you shout. Can I come in?”
• I yanked the blankets over my wrist, hiding the glow as much as I could. “Yes,” I said, my voice shakier than I liked.
• The door creaked open.
• Rayven stepped inside, hair in a loose braid, eyes sharp even in the dim light. Her gaze swept over me—sweat, tangled sheets, wide eyes. She frowned.
• “More?” she said gently.
• “yea” I muttered.
• She sat on the edge of the bed. “Tell me.”
• I hesitated, the words knotting up in my chest. But keeping secrets hadn’t helped so far. The Gate didn’t care about my pride.
• So I told her.
• About the clearing.
• About seeing him ahead of me, always just out of reach.
• About the temple. The symbols.
• The corrupted creature.
• The word guardian whispering through the chamber.
• Rayven listened, face unreadable, fingers steepled in thought.
• “It felt different,” I said finally. “Like I wasn’t just… dreaming. I was watching. Like I had one foot here and one foot… there.”
• “You were tethered,” she murmured. “Pulled between realms.”
• I swallowed. “What does that make me?”
• Her eyes softened. “Important.”
• I huffed a humorless laugh. “That’s one word for it.”
• She tilted her head. “You’re hiding your right hand.”
• I froze.
• “I’ve known you since we were little,” she added. “You only do that when something hurts or scares you.”
• Slowly, I pulled the blanket back.
• The corrupted crescents burned faintly beneath my skin.
• Rayven inhaled sharply. “Oh, Moon…”
• “Is it real?” My voice sounded small even to me.
• She reached out, fingers hovering above my wrist, not quite touching. “Does it hurt?”
• “It burns,” I admitted. “Not like a cut. More like… pressure. From the inside out.”
• Her mouth pressed into a thin line. “It’s the same symbol from the journals. The broken one.” She met my gaze. “This confirms it. You’re not just connected to the Gate, Amelia. You’re part of whatever is hunting around it.”
• “Great,” I muttered. “I’ve always wanted to be bait.”
• Rayven’s lips twitched, but her eyes stayed serious. “You’re not bait. You’re a target. There’s a difference.”
• She exhaled. “We’ll tell the Alpha. But… not everyone needs to know about the mark. Not yet.”
• I nodded gratefully.
• Because if the whole pack saw this?
• Rumors would spread faster than wildfire.
• And I wasn’t ready to see fear in their eyes when they looked at me.
• By morning, the mark had faded slightly. It was still there, but not glowing. I wrapped a bandage around my wrist anyway, claiming I’d strained it in training.
• Lira didn’t buy it for a second.
• She fell into step beside me as we headed downstairs, two senior warriors trailing us as extra guard. Her gaze flicked to my wrapped wrist and then back to my face.
• “You’re a terrible liar,” she said.
• “I never claimed to be good at it,” I replied.
• She bumped my shoulder lightly. “You okay?”
• Yes. No. Maybe.
• “I had another dream,” I said instead.
• Her eyes sharpened. “The same place?”
• “Same forest,” I said. “Different part. There was a temple.”
• We kept our voices low as we walked past other pack members. Some bowed their heads to me; others just watched, eyes lingering a little too long on the guards shadowing us.
• “You tell the Alpha?” Lira asked.
• “Rayven did,” I said. “He wants reports after breakfast.”
• “And your wrist?”
• “Long story.”
• She snorted. “Then I expect the full version later.”
• The dining hall smelled of eggs, bread, sausage, and coffee. Warriors chatted, omegas moved gracefully between tables. But there was a stiffness in the air I hadn’t noticed before. Conversations quieted when I passed. Eyes followed.
• Word had spread.
• Alpha Darien’s announcement about my “full guard” had reached more than just the high ranks.
• I sat with Lira at one of the side tables. Rayven joined us moments later, sliding a mug of coffee toward me.
• “Eat,” she said. “You’ll need the energy.”
• I poked at my eggs. “That’s becoming a theme.”
• Lira chewed thoughtfully, then looked between us. “So. Emergency meetings. Full guard. The Gate. Dream symbols. And now temples. At this point, I think you owe me a detailed summary.”
• Rayven arched a brow. “You’re not wrong. But we don’t have much detail to give.”
• I took a sip of coffee, the warmth steadying me a little. “There was something else,” I said quietly. “In the temple. A voice…”
• “It called him guardian,” I said slowly. “Whoever he is. And it told me I’m not the only one the Gate calls.”
• Lira’s brows shot up. “Your mystery mate again.”
• Heat rushed to my face. “It’s not like that.”
• She smirked. “You literally have a dream child together.”
• Rayven hid a smile behind her mug.
• I sighed. “We don’t even know if he’s real. Or just some… construct the Gate uses to push me toward something.”
• Shea shifted, her tone firm.
• “He’s real,” she says. “The bond is real. The child is… complicated. But the male exists somewhere.”
• I rubbed my forehead. “My wolf thinks he’s real.”
• Rayven’s gaze softened into something almost proud. “Then we trust her.”
• After breakfast, Rayven and Lira escorted me to the Alpha’s office. The guards followed a few steps behind, silent but undeniably present.
• Inside, Alpha Darien stood over a spread of maps on his desk. Beta Rowan hovered nearby. Both looked up when we entered.
• “Amelia,” the Alpha said. “Rayven filled us in on your night. I need to hear it directly.”
• So I repeated it again—forest, temple, creature, guardian voice, the feeling of being half-here, half-there. I left out my wrist until Rayven nodded toward it.
• “Show him,” she said.
• Reluctantly, I unwound the bandage.
• The Alpha’s jaw tightened when he saw the mark. Beta Rowan’s eyes darkened, his fingers curling into a fist.
• “It’s the same corrupted symbol,” Rowan said. “From the rogue?”
• “Yes,” I said. “Only now it’s on me.”
• Alpha Darien exhaled slowly. “This changes things.”
• I braced. “How?”
• “You’re not just seeing the Gate,” he said. “You’re carrying part of its war on your skin. If the corruption spreads…”
• “It’s not spreading,” I cut in, too quickly. “It’s just… there.”
• “For now,” he said.
• Silence stretched.
• “I’m not staying locked in a room,” I added. “If that’s what you’re thinking.”
• He met my gaze evenly. “You are a member of this pack first and a bloodline second. I won’t cage you.” He glanced at the mark again. “But I also won’t pretend this isn’t dangerous—for you and for everyone around you.”
• “I know,” I said softly.
• He nodded. “For now, your routine stays the same—training, duties, research. But you do nothing alone. Not until we understand more. If the dreams intensify, you tell us immediately. If the mark changes, Rayven examines it.”
• “At least he’s not completely unreasonable,” Shea muttered.
• Lira folded her arms. “I’m with her. No matter what.”
• “Good,” Alpha Darien said. “Because whatever is coming? It’s not going to wait politely at the border.”
• As if summoned by his words, a knock sounded at the door. One of the patrol warriors stepped in, smelling faintly of pine and sweat.
• “Alpha,” he said. “We found another body at the northern border.”
• My stomach dropped.
• “Rogue?” Rowan asked.
• The warrior nodded. “Dead before we got there. Same kind of collapse as the last one. And… there was something carved into the ground beside it.”
• “What?” Darien demanded.
• The warrior swallowed. “The crescents. Corrupted. And a word.”
• He hesitated, glancing at me.
• “Say it,” I said.
• “Guardian,” he replied quietly. “Scratched over and over into the dirt. And one more phrase.”
• My heartbeat thundered.
• “The gate is waiting for its key.”
• Later, when the sun had climbed higher and training was finished for the day, I found myself back in the library, the old journals spread out in front of me.
• The mark on my wrist tingled as I turned the pages.
• I flipped to a section I hadn’t read before, one that had been stuck together slightly, the ink smudged like my father’s hand had hesitated.
• “The Gate does not open for power alone,” his handwriting read. “It opens for alignment. Dual bloodlines. Two anchors. One to hold the realms, one to hold the path between.”
• My breath caught.
• “They will feel each other long before they know each other’s names,” the next lines said. “They will share a child of the in-between long before the world deems it possible. And corruption will hunt them first.”
• A faint chill moved down my spine.
• “Shea…” I whispered.
• “I hear it,” she said, voice low. “Mate. Child. Corruption. Guardian and key. You were born into this, Amelia.”
• Somewhere out there, my mate was walking through the same storm.
• Somewhere, he was being pulled into the same web of marks and symbols and whispered warnings.
• “I’m going to find him,” I said quietly, more to myself than anyone else.
• Lira appeared in the doorway, arms crossed, leaning against the frame. “You might not have to,” she said. “If this Gate thing keeps stirring, he might end up finding you.”
• I closed the journal gently. “Either way, this doesn’t end in the library.”
• “No,” she agreed. “It ends where it started.”
• “Where?” I asked.
• She shrugged one shoulder. “At the Gate.”
• My wrist burned a little hotter.
• I pressed my thumb over the mark, feeling the faint thrumming beneath the skin like a distant second heartbeat.
• Tonight, when sleep came, it wouldn’t be gentle.
• It wouldn’t be safe.
• But for the first time, beneath the fear and the pressure and the weight of expectation, something else moved through me.
• If the Gate was calling me—
• Then I was going to answer on my own terms.