Daughter of the Veil

Lila The air was thick with the scent of moss and wild roses, damp from the rain that had fallen hours earlier. The moon hung low and swollen above the canopy, casting silver light through the trees and illuminating the winding path ahead of Lila like a blessing—or a warning. She walked barefoot, her skin kissed by dew, her long, curly blonde hair trailing behind her like a golden veil. Tiny flowers had woven themselves into her curls, drawn to her presence like moths to flame. The earth loved her, breathed with her, protected her. But tonight… something was different. She felt it in her gut first—an ache, a pull. Then, through the soft whisper of the leaves, she heard it. A groan. Low. Animalistic. Painful. Her heartbeat quickened. She knelt in the underbrush, her palm brushing across ferns slick with moonlight. Her hand hovered over the locket resting on her chest, the one she had worn since infancy. Warm. Pulsing. "Show me," she whispered, not to the gods, not to the moon—but to the forest. It obeyed. Branches shifted. Vines recoiled. And in the clearing ahead, she saw him. A wolf. But no ordinary creature. Massive. Midnight blue fur matted with blood and mud. Muscles like coiled thunder. His sides heaved with shallow breaths. His body was curled in a way that both begged for help and warned her to stay away. And his eyes— Gods, his eyes. Glacial blue. Bright and sharp even through pain. They locked onto hers, ancient and wild, and something inside her cracked wide open. He tried to move. His lip curled. A growl rumbled from his chest, but it faded into a weak cough. Still, there was pride in that broken body. Fury wrapped in fur. Lila didn’t run. Instead, she knelt beside him, her heart a war drum in her ears. Carefully, she reached for a pouch at her side and pulled out a vial of moonflower elixir, the kind that burned through poison and sealed wounds from the inside out. "This will sting," she whispered, voice soft as velvet. She poured the silver liquid into his mouth. The wolf tried to jerk away but stopped, watching her again. Not with fear. With calculation. “You’re not just a beast, are you?” she murmured. The locket thudded against her chest. She touched his fur, and power surged through her fingertips—not her own. His. Controlled, ancient, tethered. As if something divine had kissed his bloodline and never let go. A breath left her lips. This wasn’t just a wolf. This was Fenrir-blessed. She pulled herbs from her satchel and crushed them between her fingers, pressing the paste into a gash on his flank. He didn’t even flinch. "I’ll keep you alive," she whispered. "Whoever you are." He whimpered. Not in fear. Not in pain. In surrender. --- Later that night... She dragged his heavy body with effort, coaxing the forest to open roots and lower branches as she guided him to her hidden cottage. Candles danced on wooden shelves. Crystals glowed soft green. A fire crackled, warm and wild in the hearth. She laid him on the furs near the fireplace, brushing a lock of hair from her flushed cheek as she studied him again. He was beautiful in a terrifying way. Built like a predator. Radiating power. But behind that was something else—something broken. Something she knew well. Loneliness. Lila sat beside him, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders, her bare feet curled beneath her. "You’re safe now," she said softly. "But I’d love to know what kind of beast finds its way into my dreams before I even meet him." Because she had seen those eyes before. In her dreams. Over and over again. She reached for her locket, the gold warm against her skin, and for the first time in years… it glowed.