His Seren

Three years ago, the Crimson Cresent pack lands were shrouded in a cold, unforgiving rain. Serena, a young woman with a secret, moved like a phantom through the muddy alleyways, her thin clothes clinging to her frail frame.

Her heart, usually a frantic drum in her chest, beat with a newfound courage. Last night, on her eighteenth birthday, something momentous had happened: she had finally shifted. Her wolf, a modest gray with white patches, was a beacon of hope in the abyss of her lonely existence.

No longer would she starve. No longer would she endure the cruel taunts of a pack that saw her magical blood as a curse. She was free. She was strong. She was going to flee the hellish life she'd known, a life where she was tolerated only for her high-ranking grandfather, and constantly tormented for being different.

As she walked, the street lights blurred through the downpour, her mind alight with dreams of a chocolate cake, a small celebration of her newfound freedom and the birthday that was finally hers to claim. But fate, as always, had other plans. A faint, divine scent, almost lost in the rain, caught her attention. Her wolf, ordinarily calm, perked up, growling with an insistent urge.

It was the mate pull. Her mate was near. And as the scent grew stronger, leading her deeper into the town square, a sickening dread coiled in her stomach. She knew, with chilling certainty, that this destined connection could only bring more pain.