Behind the willow

Ronan

As the laughter and chatter of the pack carried through the clearing, Sophia couldn’t shake the growing knot of anxiety tightening in her chest. The air, which had been warm and welcoming earlier in the evening, now felt heavy and charged.

The willow’s branches swayed with a deliberate rhythm, though the breeze had long since stilled. Its rustling leaves seemed almost alive, whispering a warning only those attuned to its magic could hear.

Sophia glanced toward the edge of the clearing, her eyes scanning the darkened forest beyond. Shadows seemed to shift unnaturally, and though she could see nothing, she felt something—or someone—watching.

James, seated beside her, reached out and rested a hand lightly on her arm. “Stay calm,” he murmured, his voice barely audible above the noise of the pack.

Sophia turned to him, her pulse quickening. “You sense it too?”

He nodded, his golden eyes narrowing as they flicked toward the treeline. “They’re close. Too close.”

Marcus, who had been recounting a particularly dramatic hunting tale, suddenly stopped mid-sentence. His nostrils flared, and his sharp eyes darted around the clearing.

“What is it?” Lena asked, her voice low but urgent.

“Unfamiliar scents,” Marcus growled, rising to his feet. “We’re being watched.”

The pack’s mood shifted in an instant. Laughter and smiles disappeared, replaced by alertness and the subtle sound of chairs scraping back as wolves prepared themselves. The once-warm clearing now crackled with tension.

James stood, his commanding presence quieting the rising murmurs. “Stay together. Stay alert. They won’t attack outright, not here—not with the willow protecting us.”

Sophia looked to the tree, its glowing branches casting a faint, ethereal light over the clearing. The hum of its magic felt stronger now, almost like a heartbeat resonating through the ground.

A sharp snap echoed from the forest, and several wolves turned toward the sound, their eyes glowing faintly in the dark. A figure stepped into view, moving slowly but deliberately.

It was a man, tall and broad-shouldered, his dark hair slicked back and his eyes gleaming with a predatory light. He was dressed simply, but there was an air of authority about him that made Sophia’s stomach churn.

“Evening, James,” the man said, his voice smooth but laced with menace. “Quite the gathering you’ve got here.”

James stiffened, his posture straightening as he stepped forward. “Ronan,” he said, his tone cold. “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing your face here.”

The man—Ronan—spread his arms in mock innocence. “I’m just here to talk. No need for hostility.”

“Talk?” Marcus growled, stepping beside James. “You’ve been stalking us for weeks. Your pack is hunting ours. What do you want?”

Ronan’s gaze shifted, landing on Sophia. He smirked, and a shiver ran down her spine.

“I’m here for her,” he said simply.

The pack erupted into a low chorus of growls, the wolves instinctively moving to shield Sophia from view. James took a deliberate step forward, his voice dangerously low. “You don’t touch her.”

Ronan chuckled, the sound cold and humorless. “It’s not up to you, James. The girl’s tied to the prophecy—our prophecy. She doesn’t belong here. She belongs with us.”

“She belongs with us,” James snapped, his golden eyes flashing.

Ronan’s smirk faltered, and his gaze hardened. “You can’t protect her forever. The moon has chosen her fate, and you know it. It’s only a matter of time.”

Before anyone could respond, Ronan turned and disappeared into the shadows as quickly as he had appeared, his parting words hanging heavy in the air.

Sophia exhaled shakily, her heart racing. “What does he mean? Why does he want me?”

James turned to her, his expression a mix of determination and fear. “It’s not just about the prophecy anymore. You’re more powerful than you realize, Sophia. Ronan’s pack knows that, and they’ll do anything to take you.”

Sophia’s voice wavered, but her resolve was firm. “Then we’ll fight.”

The pack murmured their agreement, and James placed a hand on her shoulder, his grip steady and reassuring.

“Yes,” he said. “But first, we’ll prepare. They won’t take you from us—not without a war.”

As the pack rallied around James and Sophia, the willow’s branches glowed brighter, as if offering its silent blessing. But even under its protection, Sophia couldn’t shake the feeling that the storm was only just beginning.

Ronan understood the willow’s protective magic and its deep connection to Sophia. The tree had accepted her, shielding her with its ancient power, and Ronan knew he couldn’t directly challenge its influence. Instead, he worked to undermine its connection to her by pulling her away—physically, emotionally, and mentally.

Whispers in the Night

Ronan began by invading her dreams, his voice soft and persuasive, like a shadow creeping into her mind. Sophia often woke in a cold sweat, his words lingering in her ears.

"You don’t belong under that tree, Sophia. It weakens you, keeps you tethered to their control. Out here, in the wild, you’ll find your true strength."

The dreams left her restless, uncertain. Though the willow’s branches swayed protectively outside her window, the visions felt disturbingly real.