Page 14 of Shifting Hearts

PROLOGUE

Raven

T he forest devours me whole, wet earth clinging to my skin, branches clawing at me like teeth.

Darkness presses against my skin, thick and choking, wrapping around my throat like a vice. The wind screams through the trees, ripping at my clothes, tearing strands of hair free, but I barely feel it. I am numb. I am burning. I am breaking.

I run because if I stop, I will shatter.

Branches lash against my arms, carving lines into my flesh.

Proof that I still exist, that I am more than just the echo of something never meant to be.

The ground is treacherous beneath my bare feet, slick with mud, riddled with jagged stones and tangled roots.

I don’t care. I don’t stop. Pain is irrelevant. Pain is nothing compared to this.

"You were never meant to be one of us."

Aldric’s voice is a phantom slicing through my ribs, burrowing deep, and festering. I knew this was coming. I had known my entire life, but knowing doesn’t soften the blade.

I wasn’t just rejected.

I was cast out.

The air stings my throat, each breath slicing like shattered glass, like splintered bone. The pack is behind me, somewhere in the distance, their scent clinging to my skin. They will track me. Not because they want me back, but because I shouldn’t be allowed to exist outside them.

I should be terrified.

I should be begging for mercy.

But there is no mercy for creatures like me.

No wolf. No shift. No purpose.

I am nothing.

Yet I keep running like I am trying to outrun the truth, like I am trying to leave my own skin behind.

But I can’t escape what I am.

What I never was.

The weight of it crushes me, pressing into my chest, cold fingers closing around my lungs. The world tilts. My knees buckle as my hands collide with dirt and stone.

I don’t want to stop, but suddenly, I can’t move.

I clutch at my chest, gasping, choking—something is wrong. The air feels different, charged, thick with something too heavy, too unnatural.

The forest holds its breath.

A terrible, aching pressure builds in my ribs, under my skin, inside my very bones. It doesn’t hurt like the cuts, like the bruises. It’s much worse.

Something inside me shifts.

Not my bones, not my muscles—something deeper, something darker.

The pressure coils inside me, ancient and hungry, like something buried too long is clawing its way to the surface. My breath stutters, my hands digging into the cold, damp earth. Trying to ground myself, trying to hold on to the girl I’ve always been, but she’s slipping through my fingers.

The forest is too quiet.

Even the wind feels wrong, like it doesn’t know which direction to blow, as if it’s waiting for something. Watching .

I press a hand to my chest as my pulse hammers against my palm, frantic and uneven. This isn’t fear, this isn’t exhaustion, it’s something else. Something breaking open beneath my skin.

I don’t understand it, and that terrifies me more than anything.

A rustling sound cuts through the silence, sharp and deliberate–a footstep.

I force myself up, staggering forward, shoving through the thick tangle of undergrowth. The world sways, my vision sharp and blurred all at once, like something inside me is shifting my senses against my will.

Another step. Closer now.

My breathing turns shallow. They found me.

I push faster, harder. I won’t go back. I won’t let them drag me home like some wounded thing, like some mistake they need to erase.

The pressure in my chest grows heavier, an unseen force curling through my veins. The wind picks up almost violently, whipping the trees into motion, howling as if it knows what’s coming next.

Then I feel it.

Not just the presence behind me, but the way the forest bends around me.

The way the air crackles, like energy is being pulled toward me, like something I never understood is waking up inside the marrow of my bones.

When the first shadow moves between the trees, I realize they're slowing down.

Their movements drag, hesitation flickering in their steps. Their bodies fight against an unseen weight, something unnatural, something wrong.

My pulse pounds wildly, my legs trembling beneath me. This isn’t normal. It’s not possible.

And yet the wind howls louder, the air thickens, and the moment Aldric’s scent reaches me, I know something is wrong.

They should have caught me by now. Should have closed in, should have dragged me back, kicking and screaming, but they didn’t.

Their steps falter. Their movements turn stiff, as if something unseen is pressing into their bones, causing them to hesitate and struggle.

I don’t understand.

And I don’t try.

I just keep running.

Branches whip against my skin, cutting deep. My breath is ragged, raw, scraping my throat with every gasp. The world tilts as my pulse hammers so violently I can hear it, feel it like it’s thundering against my skull.

Something is happening, not to them, but to me .

And yet, I don’t stop.

I don’t think.

I will myself not to turn around to see the confusion in their eyes, the uncertainty in their stance. I can’t stop to question why Aldric, who once commanded me with nothing but his voice, can’t seem to hold control anymore.

I just run.

Because I am a mistake, an exile, a shadow slipping through the trees.

I still believe they will catch me, because that’s the only thing that makes sense in my mind.

The rain hammers down, soaking through the torn fabric of my shirt, clinging to my skin like ice. My lungs burn, my legs shake, but I keep moving, one step, then another, until the glow of headlights and neon flickers through the storm ahead.

I don’t think, I don’t hesitate. I push forward.

The door swings open under my weight, heavy and worn as the scent of whiskey, leather, and smoke punches through the damp night air.

The bar is crowded. Too many bodies, too much noise, but I don’t care. I barely feel my feet hit the floor.

Heat . The overwhelming press of it. The suffocating contrast between the cold outside and the fire within.

I stagger forward, breath ragged, leaving puddles in my wake. My fingers dig into the bar top, slick and trembling, gripping the edge because it’s the only thing keeping me upright.

Eyes turn toward me. Slow. Calculating.

I swallow, throat tight, heart still hammering against my ribs. The weight in my chest still lingers, curling through my veins, pressing against my skull like an unseen force.

I don’t understand it.

Then, someone moves.

From the shadows at the far end of the bar, a man rises. Golden eyes catch the dim light—not glowing, but burning. Inhuman. Impossible. And yet, something in me reaches for him.

He stands, and all at once my knees crumble beneath me and I’m on the floor.

I can feel the vibrations of his feet pounding against the floor as he ventures toward me, but the searing pain is back, and this time I can’t control its power flooding through me.

Shadows cloud my vision and mirages dance before me until I’m nothing more than a sopping mess on the bar floor as the darkness sets in.

I’m too tired to move, leaving me bereft of feeling. The golden embers of his eyes are the last thing I see before the darkness claims me, and the storm inside me finally goes silent.