By dawn, as the orange glow of early morning painted the sky, the forest had been combed more times than anyone could count. The search teams were exhausted and the students had been called back to their temporary base—eyes sunken, expressions grim, and the weight of unanswered questions pressing on everyone's shoulders.
Still no sign of Sylva.
That was when the supervisor made the call.
The supervisor, pale with sleepless worry, stepped away from the gathered students and pressed the phone tightly to his ear. He hesitated only a moment before dialing the emergency contact listed under Sylva's name.
It connected.
"Miss Smith?" his voice wavered as he spoke. "This is Supervisor Alton from Exeter University."
"I—I'm sorry to contact you so early. There's been an incident. Your daughter, Sylva… she's missing."
On the other end of the line, silence reigned for a moment too long. Then came Lunethra's voice—low, smooth, and unreadable.
"What do you mean she's missing?"
The supervisor swallowed hard, words tumbling out in a rush. "We—we were doing fieldwork in Dartmoor. She and another student, Nathan, went missing last night. We've been searching since then. We found Nathan, unconscious. Alive. But… there were men. Strange, dangerous-looking men in the forest. Three of them—unconscious, possibly dying. And then…"
He hesitated. "We found a body. Not Sylva's. A man. It looked like he'd been… killed by something—or someone."
There was another beat of silence.
Then Lunethra's voice again—still calm, too calm. "And Sylva?"
He hesitated again. "No sign of her. Only a trail of blood. We think she might be…"
"Dead?" Lunethra said flatly.
"I—I don't know. We're still searching, I swear, and the authorities have been contacted. But I thought you needed to know."
He stopped speaking, breath caught in his throat, waiting for a scream or a sob or a demand.
But none came.
Instead, Lunethra looked out the window of her high-rise apartment, her eyes fixed on the sky. Her silver-white hair shimmered faintly in the soft light of morning, her expression utterly devoid of emotion.
But inside her chest, something stirred.
The feeling she'd always had ever since Sylva was born.
She knew Sylva, especially with the glowing hair that was on her head when she came into this world and the aura she had. It was unlike anything Lunethra had ever seen and she'd hastily concealed it before properly sealing it.
Still, Lunethra was supposed to know when her daughter was in danger but something made it unable to reach her.
Was the seal awakening coming sooner than expected? Or had something really happened to Sylva?
She ended the call without another word.
The phone in the supervisor's hand beeped as the line went dead, and he stood frozen in place, unsure if he should call again or pray she wouldn't.
Outside, her car's engine roared to life, and Lunethra drove faster than she had in years.
She didn't believe her daughter was dead.
No, but there was a possibility of that part of her awakening.
…
Lunethra drove into the Moorcroft Field Research Station and stepped out of the car. The supervisor hurried over to meet her.
"Mrs. Smith," he greeted quickly.
Lunethra didn't waste time on pleasantries. "Where was Sylva last seen?" she asked sharply. "And I want a full account of what happened."
The supervisor straightened, fully aware of the kind of woman Lunethra Smith was. Rich, connected, and powerful. She had invested in the university more than once since Sylva's admission, and her influence wasn't something to take lightly.
He spoke quickly. "Sylva and her partner Nathan went into the forest early this morning to conduct their survey. It's not unusual for students to return late—maybe around seven. But when they still hadn't shown up by eight, we asked some of the others to try calling them. There's little to no signal in the deeper parts of the forest, so we weren't surprised when no one could reach them. That's when we sent out some friends to look for them."
He paused, then added nervously, "They came back with nothing. No signs, no clues. That's when we alerted the security personnel, and the proper search began."
Lunethra's expression didn't change. She simply listened.
"They found Nathan first," he continued. "Unconscious, lying beside a man who was barely alive. Then, over the next few minutes, they found two more injured men, and finally… a dead one. Brutally killed."
He swallowed before adding, "None of the men were students, or part of our staff, or security. We don't know who they are. But they were nearly beaten to death. Nathan looked like he had been knocked out cold. Then they found a trail of blood leading deeper into the forest, but it stopped abruptly. We've searched everywhere since then, but we still haven't found Sylva."
When he finished, the supervisor bowed his head. "I apologize for the delay in noticing her absence."
Lunethra said nothing, but her hand tightened at her side as they continued walking.
A police officer approached. "Ma'am," he said gently. "Are you the missing girl's mother?"
"I am," she replied curtly. "What's the status of the search?"
"We haven't found anything new yet," he admitted. "Just their abandoned equipment and the trail of blood. No footprints, no signs that could help us track her. It's like she vanished."
"May I see the site?" Lunethra asked.
"Of course. We're still interviewing the students who found the bodies. The men were taken to the hospital, and we're waiting for them to wake up so we can get a better understanding of what happened."
He offered to lead her there. "After you've had a look, I'll need to ask you a few questions about Sylva."
Lunethra nodded wordlessly.
When they arrived, the officer gave her space and stepped back. Lunethra stood still at the edge of the scene where the blood had been found. Then she crouched, brushing her fingers over the fallen, dried leaves.
For several long seconds, she didn't move.
Then it all came to her.
The memory imprinted on the place—like a scent, like a breath—filled her mind. She saw how Sylva and Nathan had been surrounded. Sylva's voice asking the leader who he was. The command for Nathan to be knocked out. Nathan fighting back, only to be overpowered. Sylva—brave, furious—taking down one of the men with her bare hands.
Lunethra opened her eyes, then rose silently and walked further into the woods, following her instincts.
The lingering presence Sylva had left behind drew her forward—to the spot where the girl had fought the other two men. The air was thick with the echo of violence. She saw everything in her mind's eye, then pressed on, her steps quickening as the forest grew quieter.
Finally, she stopped. A large pool of dried blood stained the earth. A sharp breath escaped her lips as she crouched again, this time shaking. She closed her eyes and forced herself to calm down.
What she saw next nearly undid her.
Sylva's brutal fight with Rael. The slash of his blade across her body. Blood, so much blood, soaking her clothes.
The moment the man—no, the werewolf—spoke her name. The way Sylva snapped, the flicker of demonic power rising in her veins. The unnatural energy that helped her resist the werewolf's black magic. The fury in her eyes as she stabbed him, then slit his throat.
Then Sylva collapsed, broken and trembling. Clawing at the dirt, screaming through the pain, the seal on her abdomen pulsing with a dangerous light.
A choked sound escaped Lunethra as the first tear fell. She stayed like that for a while, crouched low, unmoving. Those nearby quietly stepped back, assuming she needed a moment to grieve.
But she wasn't grieving.
She was watching.
She saw everything.
Lunethra couldn't breathe.
She finally stood and moved toward where the blood trail had ended. Her steps slowed as she felt… something.
A breath. A presence.
Something that didn't belong in the human realm.
She froze. Her eyes locked on a tree at the edge of the glade.
That breath… it wasn't her imagination.
She stepped forward and pressed her hand to the bark.
The moment she touched it, a force surged through her arm like a pulse. The forest around her shimmered—twisting vines, whispering leaves, magic curling through the air in thick, humming waves. Her palm connected with something cold and smooth—glasslike. A veil.
Her heart pounded.
There was an unrecorded veil in this forest.
This was a veil into another realm.
Into the werewolf realm.