Page 16 of Shifting Hearts

TWO

Raven

I should’ve run.

The moment I felt him, felt it, pressing against my ribs like a memory I didn’t know I had, I should’ve turned and disappeared into the trees.

But I didn’t, and now I’m watching him slam another man against the wall like it costs him nothing. Like the fury in his voice is just another part of him, coiled and waiting.

He’s not just dangerous. He’s respected. Feared .

And he used that power for me .

I don’t understand it. Not fully, but I feel it. Like static in the air. Like the moment before lightning splits the sky. The other man walks away without a fight, but not without a warning. His words echo in my chest.

It’s changing you.

I swallow hard because I feel it too.

When our eyes met, his voice wrapped around me like smoke. Something shifted. In him. In me.

He turns back, and for a second, I forget how to breathe. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes are dark, burning, knowing and are locked on mine like I’m the only thing anchoring him to this world.

“You okay?” he asks.

I nod, lying. “Yeah.”

He doesn’t believe me. I can see it in the way his jaw tightens, the way his gaze flickers to my hands, still trembling, but he doesn’t push.

That, somehow, makes it worse, because I don’t know what I am, don’t know why I flinched when he called me little wolf.

I don’t know why something inside me recognized him.

I don’t even know his name, never seen him before in my life.

But I know this; whatever’s waking in me—it’s waking in him too.

And that scares me more than anything.

Then, the world tilts.

It’s not sudden, not violent. Just a slow, creeping shift, like the ground beneath me is no longer solid, like reality is fraying at the edges.

I blink, and the dimly lit room is gone.

The woods stretch around me, moonless and vast. The trees are wrong, twisted, towering, their bark slick with something dark and pulsing. The air hums, thick with power. Not mine. Not his. Something older.

Something is watching, or someone.

A howl splits the silence.

Not a wolf, not a shifter.

Something else.

I turn, heart hammering, and see them; figures cloaked in shadow, eyes glowing like embers. They stand in a circle, chanting in a language I don’t know, but somehow feel. It coils around my spine, familiar and terrifying.

One of them steps forward.

A woman. Tall. Regal. Her hair is silver, braided with bone. Her eyes—storm-gray, like mine—lock onto me.

“You are the echo,” she says. “The blood that was buried.”

I try to speak, but my voice is gone.

She lifts a hand, and the forest shudders.

“You must remember,” she says. “Before it remembers you.”

The vision fractures.

Light. Noise. Pain.

The room tilts beneath me.

I stumble, breath catching, vision still flickering with shadows and silver eyes. My knees give out, and before I hit the ground, strong arms catch me.

I flinch on instinct.

He’s close. Too close. The scent of smoke, pine, and something darker wraps around me, grounding and electric.

“Hey,” he says, voice low, urgent. “Talk to me. What just happened?”

I blink up at him, disoriented. His face is sharp in the dim light, jaw clenched, eyes burning.

“I saw…” My voice cracks. “I don’t know what I saw.”

He steadies me, hands firm but careful. “A vision?”

I nod. “I think so. There were people. A woman. She said I was the echo, that I had to remember before it remembered me.”

His brow furrows. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

He studies me for a long moment, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

“I’m Kieran.” He offers, then, quietly he asks, “What’s your name?”

I hesitate.

It’s a simple question, but it feels loaded. Like saying it might unravel something I’ve been trying to hold together.

“…Raven,” I say finally.

His gaze sharpens. Not with recognition, but with something else. Something deeper.

“Raven,” he repeats, like he’s testing the weight of it. “That name doesn’t belong to the lost.”

I look away, heart pounding. “Then maybe it doesn’t belong to me.”