Between the Dimensions✔️

The desert wind whipped around my tent, a stark contrast to the cool, damp mist that still clung to my mind from the dream.

I sat up, gasping, the vivid image of Selene's snarling face burned behind my eyelids. "Get the fuck out of my head," I'd told a goddess. Foolish, arrogant Killian. But then, I was only fifteen.

Then the screams started. Shouts, cries for help, the guttural snarls of distressed wolves. The scent of blood, hot and metallic, assaulted my senses even before I tore through the tent flap. The Viatoribus, my nomadic family, were in chaos.

I pushed through the panicked crowd, drawn by an invisible thread to the center of the commotion. And there she was. A young girl, barely more than a child, lying still. Her throat was brutally slashed, her head barely clinging to her neck. And on her forehead, stark against her pale skin, was a freshly painted black crescent moon.

My wolf howled within me, a raw, primal scream of anguish. My heart, a part I hadn't known existed, was suddenly and utterly hollow.

"She was my mate," I whispered to the Princeps Viatorem, sinking to my knees beside the lifeless body. "Selene. She came to me in a dream. Told me to give up my Gift or my mate. I chose my Gift."

The Princeps Viatorem's face was grim. She looked at her Second, then back at me, taking my hand in hers. Her voice was somber, heavy with ancient knowledge. "Killian, you are the Ultimum Viatorem. It's time I tell you about the prophecy, and your ultimate destiny."