The full moon hung high above the clearing, casting silver light over the gathered pack. The air was thick with anticipation. Young wolves stood in a line, waiting for their moment of transformation—the moment they would prove their strength.

Rowan swallowed hard, his fists clenched at his sides. Tonight was supposed to be the most important night of his life. He had spent years dreaming of this moment, of feeling his bones shift and his wolf rise to the surface.

The elders stood in a half-circle around them, their sharp eyes watching every movement. The Alpha, a towering figure with piercing amber eyes, stepped forward. His presence commanded absolute silence.

"You have all reached the age of shifting," he announced, his deep voice carrying across the clearing. "Tonight, you will take your rightful place as warriors of the pack."

Rowan forced himself to stand tall, ignoring the way his stomach twisted with doubt. He knew he wasn't the strongest—not like the others—but his bloodline was ancient. There had to be something inside him, waiting to wake.

One by one, the others stepped forward.

The first was Cade, a broad-shouldered wolf who had been training since he could walk. He shifted in mere seconds—his bones cracking, his body reshaping effortlessly. A massive gray wolf stood where he had been, and the crowd erupted into cheers.

Then came Livia, a lean and agile girl who shifted with equal ease, her silver fur gleaming under the moonlight.

More followed. Each one transformed without hesitation, greeted by roars of approval.

Then it was Rowan's turn.

Silence fell as he stepped forward. His heartbeat pounded in his ears.

This is it. I can do this.

He closed his eyes and reached for the wolf inside him. He willed it to the surface, imagining the shift as he had a thousand times before. He waited for the familiar heat to spread through his limbs, for his body to break and rebuild itself into something stronger.

But nothing happened.

A long, tense moment passed.

The crowd began to murmur.

Rowan tried again. He clenched his fists so hard his nails bit into his palms. He gritted his teeth, begging the shift to come.

Still, nothing.

Laughter rippled through the pack.

"What's wrong, Rowan?" a voice called. "Your wolf too scared to show itself?"

His skin burned with shame. He stole a glance at his father, hoping for reassurance. But his father's gaze was cast downward, disappointment written in the hard lines of his face.

The Alpha's voice cut through the murmurs like a blade.

"Again."

Rowan sucked in a breath and tried once more. He forced every ounce of his willpower into the shift. He felt something stir deep inside him—a flicker of warmth, a spark of something ancient.

Then it was gone.

And he was still standing there, human.

A wave of laughter broke through the gathered wolves. Someone snickered. Others openly jeered.

"This is pathetic."

Rowan turned in time to see a wolf step forward—Cade, the strongest of their generation. His smirk was sharp, his posture exuding dominance.

"Blood of the ancients," Cade sneered. "More like blood of the weak."

Rowan's hands curled into fists. He wanted to fight, to prove himself in some way—but how could he? He couldn't even shift.

Cade shoved him hard. Rowan stumbled back, barely keeping his footing. More laughter followed.

"Enough." The Alpha's voice was sharp, but there was no defense in it. No sympathy. Only cold judgment.

Rowan's chest ached, but he refused to let them see him break.

"The boy has no wolf," one of the elders muttered. "A disgrace to his lineage."

His mother flinched but said nothing. His father remained silent.

But one voice rose among the whispers.

An old, raspy voice.

"You are not weak," the elder wolf murmured. "You are waiting."

Rowan turned toward the voice. The old wolf, eyes clouded with age, watched him with something different—something unreadable.

"Your bloodline is not gone," the elder continued. "It is merely… asleep."

The words struck something deep in Rowan's chest. But before he could ask, the Alpha spoke again.

"Enough." His voice was final. "Rowan will remain as he is—if he is even worthy of that."

The weight of the words crushed him.

Rowan turned and walked away, his steps heavy, his humiliation complete.

---

The Forest & the Vision

The woods swallowed him whole, the towering trees stretching toward the sky like silent sentinels. He walked until the voices faded, until all he could hear was the rustling wind and the distant hoot of an owl.

His fists shook. He wanted to scream, to tear something apart.

Instead, he dropped to his knees.

Why? Why am I like this?

He slammed his fist into the dirt, frustration burning through him. He had trained, he had studied—why was his wolf refusing to surface?

The night air grew colder. A strange silence settled around him.

Then, the ground beneath him shifted.

A pulse of energy surged through his body. His breath hitched as a sensation—something ancient and powerful—coiled deep within him.

A whisper, not his own, curled around his mind.

"Awaken…"

Rowan's vision blurred. Darkness overtook him.

He wasn't in the woods anymore.

Instead, he stood on an endless battlefield, the sky painted red with fire and blood. Wolves, larger than any he had ever seen, clashed in a brutal war. Their howls shook the ground, their eyes glowing like molten gold.

At the center of it all was a lone wolf, massive and black as the void itself. Its golden eyes locked onto Rowan's, burning into his soul.

"You are the last," the voice rumbled, deep as the earth itself.

Rowan staggered back. "The last… what?"

The wolf's eyes flashed.

"Wake up, Rowan."

---

The Awakening

Rowan gasped as he snapped back to reality.

He was still in the woods. The moon hung above him, unchanged.

But something inside him felt different.

His hands trembled, his body humming with an unfamiliar energy. The words of the elder wolf echoed in his mind.

"You are not weak. You are waiting."

Rowan rose to his feet, the night wind curling around him.

Whatever was inside him—it wasn't gone.

It was awakening.