1. Where Silence Holds Its Breath.

Esmarie Seraphine Vale

“Mary!” Jared's enraged yell cut through the silent house, sounding like a gunshot behind me. “Get back here!”

The anger in his voice only fueled my desperation as I dove through the front door, pausing just long enough to slam it shut behind me.

I didn’t wait for the doorknob to stop rattling.

I just ran.

My bare feet tore across the garden, sticks and stones jabbing at my exposed skin—but I barely noticed. I could only feel the frantic thrum of my heartbeat, echoing louder than my breath. My ribs ached with every inhale, but I didn’t stop. I had endured enough of this.

I whipped my neck around at the sound of the back door slamming open.

His face was roughened with rage, and this time, Michael was beside him.

“Come on, Mary,” Michael called out. “You know the rules. Don’t make us chase you.”

My feet had a mind of their own, jumping over rocks and twigs, tumbling down the jagged hill that led away from the house.

I just had to reach the main road, cross it, and slip between the huge boulders on the other side.

My sanctuary was thoroughly inaccessible from all angles—vines and brambles on both sides and a massive waterfall at the far end. If I could just get through the rocks—squeeze into that tight crevice—they wouldn’t follow me. They never did. Maybe my stepbrothers were just lazy, or maybe they were thrilled by the thought of me stuffing myself into a cramped space like a scared, filthy rat to hide from them.

But they were faster. Stronger. They’d made sure I knew the impact of their advantage.

My lungs burned. My legs screamed. I barely checked for cars as I darted across the road.

A strangled breath escaped my lips the moment my fingers brushed the stone. I dropped to my knees and shoved myself inside, scraping my skin on jagged edges. Thorns tore at my dress. One slashed across my thigh. Still, I didn’t stop.

Then I was through.

The world changed instantly.

The air here was different—cooler, damp, untouched by the fear that clung to the outside. I pressed my back against the rock, straining to hear.

Nothing.

No footsteps. No voices. Like every trace of them had vanished.

They hadn’t followed.

My heart pulsed so hard I could barely think.

A sob clawed at my throat, but I swallowed it down. I wouldn’t cry. Not here. Not in the only place I had left.

With shaky breaths, I stepped forward, out of the shadows—and there it was.

My lake.

It sat like a secret, hidden deep within the forest. The surface shimmered like liquid gold beneath the morning light, surrounded by trees that bowed protectively over it. No one knew about it. Not my adoptive father, not my brothers, no one. It was mine.

The only thing I had in this world.

I took one step, then another, letting the cool earth soothe my wounded feet.

Normally I would go to the little cave by the other side of the lake, where I had stored a few essentials for years, I had even decorated it like the bedroom I never had.

But something pulled me toward the water. A strange tug of curiosity, though I had been here more times than I could count. I knew every inch of this place like I knew my own body. Still… something was different.

The familiar scent of wet sand, cedar, and lavender was tainted with something darker—something wrong.

The closer I moved, brushing aside the lavender bushes that danced along the path, the more I noticed the dark shape near the edge of the lake.

It looked like a huge black stone.

My brows drew together as I squinted. The stone had texture. Almost like… fur?

I froze a few feet away from the water.

The roar of the waterfall did nothing to distract me from the sight before me.

This wasn’t a stone.

It was alive.

Massive. Crumpled. Still.

My first thought was dog. But no dog on earth looked like that—not with muscles that rippled even while limp, or claws like razors half-buried in the mud, or fur dark and shimmering like oil. Blood streaked its side. Its chest rose and fell in slow, ragged breaths.

It was alive. Hurt. Dying.

I should’ve been scared. I should’ve run. That was the only thing I ever truly knew how to do.

But I didn’t.

Something pulled at me—the same thing I’d mistaken for curiosity. Something ancient. Deep. Familiar. My heart slowed.

My steps didn’t.

I knelt beside it, hand trembling as I reached out—not to touch. Just to be near.

Gods, it was huge.

Its limbs stretched out beneath it for miles. I doubted I could wrap both arms around its torso. There was a deep gash near its neck, like it had been struck by something.

I studied its face, digging through my memory for a single creature that resembled it.

But there was nothing.

A bear? A wolf?

No… it was neither. And both. Its snout was too refined, its fur too sleek, too precise. And those ears—high, slightly curved—were too regal, too deliberate.

Maybe a hybrid. I’d heard of those once.

I leaned forward, one palm pressed to my thigh for balance. I just wanted to see it properly.

I wanted to touch it. To know it was real. That I wasn’t imagining this. My fingers reached out slowly, too slowly to stop.

I didn’t want to stop.

My breath hitched as my hand hovered above its fur.

Just a little more, Esmarie.

I bit my lip as my fingers finally sank into its coat.

A gasp escaped me.

The moment I touched it, something shifted inside me. Like a part of me had awoken.

And I hadn’t just stirred something in myself.

A guttural snarl shattered the silence, echoing off the lake.

Before I could even pull back, its eyes snapped open.

Gold.

Not amber. Not brown. Not even yellow.

Luminous, piercing gold that shimmered with something unnatural.

It wasn’t just light reflecting off an iris.

It was glowing.

I should’ve backed away.

I should’ve screamed.

The unfamiliarity in its gaze was threatening enough.

But when had Esmarie ever listened to logic?