SERAPHINA’S POV
The darkness in the hollow beneath the ancient tree held the sa vast, endless promise as the night sky—as if it were brimming with secrets, waiting for the first spark of light to unveil them.
I hesitated at the threshold, fingertips grazing the rough, silvery bark. My heart pounded a relentless rhythm, each beat echoing with a strange, electric recognition that rippled through .
Everything I’d been chasing—every fragnt, every half-truth, every door slamd in my face, every fear I’d carried for thirty long years—coiled together in my chest as I stood at the brink of a precipice I had been blindly approaching my whole life.
The weight of it all pressed so fiercely against my ribs it threatened to splinter them.
Alina’s presence curled warm around my thoughts, steady as an anchor in a storm.
’Breathe, Sera.’
I drew in a slow, deep breath, holding it at the top of my lungs the way Maya had taught long ago as a centering technique.
And then, I crossed the threshold.
The air shifted in an instant as the world fell away.
The Origin Archives Room wasn’t a room at all.
It unfolded into a realm that felt suspended above the fabric of reality. My boots touched no visible ground; instead, I stood on a floor of faintly glowing starlight, soft and cool and insubstantial as mist.
Overhead stretched a sky that couldn’t belong to this earth—swirls of violet, indigo, and silver drifting like fluid galaxies.
The air thrumd with ancient magic, its low vibration raising goosebumps along my skin.
Soft streams of light unfurled around , weaving themselves into a gently curving path of stars that led deeper into the expanse.
I drew a shaky breath. “Okay. That’s...”
‘Beautiful,’ Alina whispered from within , awed.
Beautiful didn’t even cover it.
As I moved forward, the starry path pulsed beneath my feet, as if acknowledging my arrival.
Then a voice—neither male nor female, neither young nor old—seeped into the space around .
‘Welco, Seraphina.’
The sound wasn’t spoken. It resonated inside , threading through my bones like music.
I swallowed hard. “What—Who are you?”
‘A keeper. A witness. The voice of the Origin Archives.’
My gaze swept the horizon. “What do I do?” I asked, my voice trembling. “Where do I go from here?”
A soft pulse of starlight illuminated a distant archway ford purely of shimring constellations.
‘To the Starlight Hallway. If you wish to ask your question.’
My pulse quickened. This was it. One question for this visit; one chance to pry open the truth.
I followed the star-path, my footsteps silent yet sohow echoing in the vastness. The archway grew clearer the closer I ca, and when I passed beneath it, the world expanded once more.
The Starlight Hallway stole my breath away.
Countless stars drifted around like living embers, each burning with its own hue. Constellations flowed and reford, shifting into patterns beyond my understanding.
At the center, a circular platform glowed brighter than all the rest—a dais sculpted from what seed to be solidified moonlight.
The mont I stepped onto it, the stars stirred.
’You have been granted one question,’ the voice murmured. ’Ask.’
My throat tightened. Standing here, enveloped in cosmic magic older than any legend, it felt like anything was possible.
“Can this place truly answer anything I ask?”
A faint vibration rippled across the Hallway, almost like laughter.
‘Not every question has an answer. So answers do not exist. So are not permitted. So would destroy what you hope to save.’
I clenched my fists. “Then...how do I know which one to ask? Which answer do I need the most?”
‘That decision is up to you. And be warned, Seraphina: any attempt to deceive, manipulate, or test the Hallway will result in imdiate revocation of access.’
A cold shiver crept down my spine.
No pressure.
My mind spiraled through every question clawing at :
Why did Father co here?
What was he researching?
What secret had he tried to bury?
Why am I like this—broken, incomplete?
Why was my wolf silent for so long?
Why ? Why my family? Why—
It struck that most of my questions spiraled back to a single point—after all, he’d probably had the sa questions.
I licked my lips. “What was my father investigating?”
The stars dimd.
A sharp sound—like a muffled crack of thunder—reverberated through the Hallway.
‘Denied.’
The voice was still calm, but this ti it carried weight.
‘The Archives do not reveal the lives or secrets of others. You have been warned.’
I swallowed hard.
Right. Not that.
I closed my eyes. What did I truly need? What question had haunted , cutting deep since the day I learned I could not do what every other wolf did so easily?
I looked at my trembling hands.
My voice ca out softer this ti. “How do I achieve full transformation?”
Silence. Long and heavy.
Then a sigh—gentle, ancient, sorrowful—drifted through the Hallway.
‘A wasted opportunity.’
My breath caught like a slap. “What do you an?”
‘The Moon Goddess has already spoken to you of this.’
My frustration flared. I didn’t even care how the voice knew what had transpired in my dreams. “I don’t want prophecy, or riddles, or poetry. Enough with the cryptic bullshit. I want a plain, simple answer. I need to know why I’m incomplete. Why part of is missing.” My voice shook. “Please.”
The stars shifted.
Slowly. Softly.
Then one detached itself from the rest.
A small, pale-blue star floated toward . As it hovered at eye level, sothing deep within resonated, like a forgotten chord plucked gently back to life.
I whispered, “What is this?”
‘It is the imprint of your soul.’
The star pulsed faintly.
But only half of it glowed.
The other half flickered, dim and frail, as if fighting to remain alight.
My stomach twisted. “What happened to it?”
‘Two possibilities. Either your soul was wounded—or part of it has been suppressed or altered.’
My breath faltered. “Altered?”
‘A force may have sealed away what you were born with. A mory. A truth. A power.’
Cold prickles swept down my arms.
Altered. Suppressed.
By who? Why?
The star flickered again, wavering like a candle in a storm.
‘Your full transformation will remain incomplete until the missing part is restored.’
A dozen questions surged up, but I could voice none of them. At least not during this visit.
But...
Fuck it, I had to try. I couldn’t just leave like this.
I clenched my fists. “Can you fix it?”
The star dimd.
Then brightened—tentatively, like a yes whispered through trembling lips.
‘The Starlight Hallway can attempt to repair a portion of what was lost.’
Hope stabbed through my ribs, sharp and desperate. “Then do it. Please.”
‘Be warned, Seraphina, such repair is traumatic. Many do not survive the shock. Others fail the restoration.’
Sweat slicked my palms. My pulse fluttered wild and frantic.
“But if I don’t try,” I whispered, “I might stay like this forever.”
‘Nothing is set in stone. You found this channel; you can find more.’
A derisive snort escaped , echoing through the Starlight Hallway.
“It took thirty years to find this channel. Who knows how long it will take to find another?”
‘Then try. You may awaken what has been sleeping inside you. Or die in the attempt.’
My breath shuddered from my lips.
Maybe I should have been afraid. Maybe I should have thought of the people in my life who loved , who would carry my absence like a wound that never quite closed.
But all I could think about was the years of being overlooked.
The endless judgnts, the whispers, the labels—ordinary, defective, unremarkable.
A life spent being told what I lacked instead of what I might beco.
I thought of the girl I used to be—the one who learned early that survival ant shrinking, enduring, accepting less than she deserved.
The woman who had lived half a life because the rest was hidden from her.
If I walked away now, if I chose safety over truth, that girl would stay buried forever.
I drew myself upright.
“I’m tired,” I whispered. “Tired of living a life I don’t understand. Tired of half-truths. Tired of not knowing myself.”
I lifted my chin. “I want the truth. I want...all of . No matter the cost.”
The star flared brighter, as if answering sothing deep within .
‘Then touch it.’
My throat tightened. “And that’ll...start it?”
‘Yes.’
I stared at the little blue star—the mirror of my soul that flickered like sothing starved.
Alina’s presence wrapped in a gentle pulse of warmth.
‘Whatever happens,’ she murmured, ‘you do not face it alone.’
My eyes stung as I reached out.
My fingertip brushed the star.
Light exploded—white, blinding, searing.
Pain tore through like claws raking flesh and bone and mory and soul in a single, rciless sweep. My scream was swallowed whole by the roaring brilliance.
And then—
There was nothing but light and agony.
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