Aurora’s P.O.V
The scent of scorched earth clung to the air, though there was no trace of smoke or fire. I stood abruptly, my breath uneven, my heart hammering against my ribs as my eyes swept over the ground around me. The once lush grass had been reduced to nothing but blackened remains, a perfect circle marking the spot where I had been sitting just moments ago. A faint glow pulsed from the pendant hanging around my neck, its warmth pressing against my skin like a silent reminder of what I had done. But I didn’t even know what that was.
I swallowed hard, lifting my gaze. Everyone around me stood frozen, their faces a mixture of shock and something else—something that made my stomach twist. Fear. My chest tightened at the sight of their wide eyes, the way some of them instinctively took a step back, as if I were something to be wary of. As if I were dangerous.
Except for Caleb. His eyes held nothing but concern as he took a cautious step forward, his brows furrowed in silent worry. And then there was Alice—her arms crossed, her lips curled in something terrifyingly close to pride.
“What… what just happened?” My voice wavered as I turned to her, my fingers trembling as they curled into fists at my sides. “Did I—did I hurt anyone?” The words rushed out in a frantic whisper, my mind spiraling with every possible scenario. What if someone had been too close? What if I had burned them too?
Alice’s expression didn’t falter. If anything, her smirk deepened. “Everything is fine,” she assured me, her voice calm, steady. “In fact, you did exceptionally well—better than I could have imagined.”
I flinched. Well? How was this good? How was this anything other than terrifying? My breath came quicker, my pulse erratic as I looked around again, hoping—praying—that no one was hurt. And yet, the way everyone still stared at me, the way some whispered amongst themselves, made my stomach churn with unease.
Alice must have noticed the panic flickering in my eyes because she sighed, stepping closer. “Aurora, listen to me,” she said, quieter this time. “What you just did proves how strong you are. The power inside you—it’s incredible. But you need to learn how to control it.”
Control it. I clenched my jaw, my fingers brushing over the still-warm pendant as if it held answers. As if it could explain why I felt like I was coming apart at the seams. “I didn’t even mean to do anything,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t try to—” I gestured at the scorched ground, my throat tightening. “How am I supposed to control something I don’t even understand?”
Alice tilted her head, regarding me carefully. “That’s why I’m here,” she said, her voice carrying an unmistakable weight of certainty. “To teach you. To make sure this power doesn’t consume you before you can learn to wield it.”
I swallowed hard, my gaze flickering to Caleb. He hadn’t spoken, but his eyes never left mine. There was no fear in them—only something deep and unwavering, something that grounded me for just a moment.
But even with his silent reassurance, I couldn’t shake the weight pressing down on me. Because whether I wanted it or not, whether I understood it or not, something inside me had woken up.
And it terrified me.
I watched as Alice turned to Maggie, her sharp eyes brimming with something akin to approval.
"You know, even though you aren't eighteen yet, I have to admit, I'm impressed," she said, her voice steady but laced with a rare warmth. "The way you wield your magic, the precision, the control... it's remarkable. No doubt it comes from your fae blood. It’s in your nature to command it." She crossed her arms, as if sizing Maggie up once more, but this time, there was no skepticism, only recognition.
Maggie, for all her usual composure, couldn't quite hide the small flicker of pride that passed through her expression. She lifted her chin slightly, though her voice remained even. "I’ve been practicing. It helps that magic is instinctive for me. It just... listens." Her fingers twitched at her side, as if she could call forth her power with just a thought, and I had no doubt she could. It was effortless for her in a way that sometimes made me envious, though I’d never admit it aloud.
Alice turned her gaze back to me, and there was something deeper in her expression now. A knowing. "And you, Aurora," she began, her tone shifting ever so slightly, more weight pressing into the syllables of my name. "You have the potential to be one of the greatest witches ever known." My breath caught for a moment, but she didn’t give me time to react before she pressed forward. "That’s why, for now, my focus will remain on the three of us. You, Ashton, and Maggie. There is work to be done, and we don’t have time to waste."
I nodded, though my chest felt tight with the weight of her words. It wasn’t that I doubted myself—I knew what I was capable of.
I felt it every time magic coursed through me, every time the power surged and obeyed my will. But to hear Alice say it so plainly, to put that kind of expectation on me, made my heart pound with something close to fear. Greatness was a heavy burden to bear.
Avery let out a small huff from where she stood, arms crossed tightly over her chest. At fifteen, she was still too young to fully harness her magic. She wouldn’t get her powers until her eighteenth birthday, and only then would she be able to reach her full potential. Until that day came, she would always be just a step behind. "I get it," she muttered, glancing away. "I’m not strong enough yet. So I just have to wait. Again."
Alice’s gaze softened just a fraction, but she didn’t offer false comfort. "When your time comes, you'll understand why it’s worth the wait. But for now, you have to trust the process."
Avery didn’t look convinced, but she said nothing more. I knew how much it burned, watching from the sidelines, unable to truly stand beside us as an equal yet. I had been there once, too, waiting for someone to acknowledge me, feeling like time was crawling forward just to spite me. I could still remember the frustration, the ache of wanting more before it was my time.
I reached over and gave her arm a small squeeze. "Your time will come, Avery," I told her softly. "And when it does, you’ll be more powerful than you ever imagined."
She didn’t answer right away, but the tension in her shoulders eased just slightly. Alice exhaled and straightened, her usual sharpness returning. "Enough dwelling on what hasn’t happened yet. We have a lot to do, and little time to waste. We will begin formal training from next week, so stay prepared for anything and everything."
And just like that, our ‘class’ was dismissed, and everyone slowly began to walk away from the clearing. Ashton and Maggie followed behind Alice, asking her questions, while Maya gave me a small nod before returning to the pack house.
I stood there, my breath catching in my throat as the weight of everything settled in. The stories, the revelations, the undeniable truth that I was no longer just some outsider peering into Caleb’s world—I was a part of it now. Truly, fully, irreversibly. My fingers curled around the pendant resting against my chest, its familiar coolness grounding me even as my heart raced. It had always been my tether, the one thing that connected me to my mother, to whatever lingering presence she may have left behind. And right now, I need her more than ever.
"Are you okay?" Caleb’s voice was softer now, careful, as if he could sense the shift in me. He always did. His gaze flickered to my hand clutching the pendant, his expression unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something that made me feel like he saw straight through me.
I swallowed hard, nodding, but the words tumbled out before I could stop them. "I just… I don’t want to be weak anymore." My voice wavered, the confession burning my throat. "I don’t want to feel like I have to be saved all the time. I want to stand on my own. I want to help. To fight. To matter."
Caleb’s brows furrowed, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, slowly, he reached for my hand, prying it gently from the pendant but not letting go. His grip was firm, reassuring. "You already matter, Aurora," he said, and there was something so achingly sincere in his voice that it made my chest tighten. "Power doesn’t define you. What do you do with it does."
I looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time, I saw my reflection in his world—not as someone fragile, not as someone who needed to be protected, but as someone who could stand beside him. As an equal.
Closing my eyes, I pressed the pendant against my lips, whispering a silent prayer to my mother. If there’s any part of you still watching over me, guide me. Help me use what’s inside me for the right reasons. Help me never feel powerless again.
When I opened my eyes, something had shifted. Maybe it wasn’t magic, maybe it was just me finally accepting what had always been there, but I felt it. A spark. A strength I hadn’t recognized before.
And I knew—this was only the beginning.