AISLYNMorning doesn’t erase the pull.

If anything, daylight sharpens it.

I wake with the same quiet pressure threaded through my chest, steady as a second pulse. It hasn’t intensified, but it hasn’t faded either. It simply is, persistent and patient, as though it knows resistance is temporary and therefore unnecessary.

I lie still for a long moment, staring at the ceiling, counting my breaths until my wolf stirs beneath my skin. She is calm. Alert. Unbothered. Whatever this sensation is, ...