Chapter 3: Something Inside Us

Blood of the Forgotten

The forest was colder now.

Night had fallen, thick with silence, save for the soft rustle of leaves and the distant whisper of water. Mia led Azhar deeper into the woods, away from the ruined village, away from the bodies they’d left behind.

Neither of them spoke.

Azhar’s wounds had already begun to close. The graze from the silver bolt itched like fire—but even that pain faded faster than it should have. That truth gnawed at him: his body knew what he was before his mind did.

They stopped at the edge of a narrow ravine. A stream ran through it, silvered by moonlight. Mia crouched, scooping water with her hands to wash the blood from her face.

Azhar stood behind her, watching the water, the trees, the shadows.

“They said someone tipped them off,” he murmured. “You think someone’s tracking us?”

“Someone already is,” Mia replied, not looking at him. “We’re just not sure who. Or why.”

Azhar crouched beside her and washed his hands. The blood didn’t bother him—that bothered him more than anything.

He stared into the water. For a moment, he didn’t see himself.

He saw red eyes.

Jagged fangs.

A creature of instinct and fury.

“I keep seeing things,” he said softly. “Memories. Maybe. Or hallucinations. I don’t know.”

Mia looked at him, her expression unreadable.

“What kind of things?”

“Fires. Wolves. Battle. A name—Beau. I think he betrayed me. I think I lost everything because of him.”

Mia’s face stiffened at the name. “Beau.” She repeated it like it was acid.

“You know him?”

“I knew of him.” She stood, shaking water from her hands. “He was a Beta once. Smart. Cunning. The kind who smiles before he kills you.”

Azhar stood too, muscles tense. “He was part of my pack.”

“He still is,” Mia said. “But not yours.”

---

They made camp under the twisted roots of a dead tree. Mia lit no fire, relying on the moonlight and her sharpened senses. Azhar sat nearby, his back against the trunk, feeling every creak of the forest under his skin. His hearing was sharper. His sight clearer. But his heartbeat?

Unsettled. Restless.

As if something deep inside him was trying to break loose.

“How did you become what you are?” he asked.

Mia tilted her head. “You mean a shifter?”

He nodded.

“Born with it,” she replied. “My mother was one of the last of her line. She raised me alone. Taught me how to shift without losing myself. Taught me how to fight when every pack turned against us.”

Azhar listened. “You’ve been running too.”

“Always.” Her voice was quiet.

A pause.

“What about you?” she asked. “Did you feel it? When you shifted?”

Azhar swallowed.

“It wasn’t like flipping a switch. It was like a dam breaking. Like there was a monster inside me and I just… stopped holding it back.”

Mia nodded slowly. “It’s not a monster. It’s you. Or a part of you. You have to learn how to let it merge—not fight it.”

Azhar closed his eyes.

And then it came again.

The pain.

Sudden. Violent. Raw.

He doubled over, gasping, clutching his ribs as something burned under his skin. His bones cracked. His muscles twisted. He fell forward, hands digging into the soil.

“Azhar!” Mia was already at his side.

He looked up. His eyes glowed deep crimson.

“It’s happening,” he growled. “I can’t stop it.”

“Don’t fight it,” Mia snapped. “Let it happen. Stay aware. Stay you.”

Azhar’s scream tore through the trees.

---

The shift was like being set on fire from the inside out.

His spine curved. Claws ripped through his fingers. His jaw extended. His senses exploded—he could hear the ants crawling beneath the earth, the wind brushing every leaf, the blood pumping in Mia’s veins.

He wasn’t fully wolf. Not fully man.

Somewhere in between.

He stood there, panting, his form trembling—taller now, his body a twisted fusion of beast and human. Black fur traced along his back and arms. His teeth glinted in the moonlight.

Mia stepped in front of him slowly.

Her expression was calm, her eyes calculating—but not afraid.

“Azhar,” she said. “Can you hear me?”

He stared at her.

Then nodded.

He could hear everything—especially her. Her voice was like an anchor. Her scent was familiar now. Not a threat. Not prey.

A partner.

“Good,” she said. “Now breathe. Let the shift settle. Don’t rush it.”

He closed his eyes.

Focused.

Slowly, the pain ebbed. His body shrank. Bones snapped back into place. The claws receded.

And then he was kneeling in the dirt—human again. Naked, sweat-drenched, shaking.

Mia tossed him a cloak.

“Your first controlled shift,” she said. “Impressive.”

Azhar draped the cloak over himself. “I thought I’d lose myself.”

“You didn’t. You held on.” She sat down across from him. “That’s what matters.”

---

The wind shifted.

Azhar’s head turned sharply. “Do you feel that?”

Mia was already reaching for her weapons. “Yes.”

From the trees came a rustle. Then a shape stepped out of the shadows.

Not a hunter.

Not a beast.

Something... worse.

Its body was humanoid, but corrupted—skin pulled tight over bones, eyes glowing yellow, claws extended longer than natural. It sniffed the air and grinned.

“So it’s true. The Crimson Alpha walks again.”

Azhar stood, fire in his eyes. “Who are you?”

The creature tilted its head. “Just a messenger. From Beau.”

Azhar’s muscles tensed.

“He says if you remember who you are... you’ll know why you need to die.”

Azhar stepped forward.

“Then tell Beau—”

Claws burst from his fingers.

“—I’m starting to remember.”

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