POV: Sloane Waylon

The first thing I felt in my skin — was cold. Not the kind that calms you down, but the kind that seeps the skin, sending shivers down my spine.

I jerked awake to a blinding flood of white light overhead. My breath came sharp and uneven, dragging the scent of antiseptics deep into my lungs until I almost gagged.

The world turned sideways as I stared around—a too-bright ceiling, an IV line, and a beeping machine. It was all new.

Where was I? Wasn't I supposed to be — dead?

My body…didn't feel like my body. My arms were thin, almost weightless against the bed I laid on. My skin, pale as porcelain.

And my hands…

God, my hands. My eyes widened at the strange differences. Slender, almost delicate. Nails short and perfectly rounded. No faint scars from training with my wolf, Tia, and no calluses from sparring.

This—this wasn't right. Not at all.

I shook my head, unbelievably, and then a shadow moved at the edge of my vision, causing me to flinch as I whipped my head towards it.

A man in a white coat—a pack doctor, I guessed—was hovering by my side, his eyes wide with something between disbelief and wonder. “She's… she's conscious?” His voice broke like he was speaking into a moment he thought would never come.

A lady in white short gown hurried in, stopping dead in the doorway in shock. “Doctor?”

“She hasn't blinked since…” He murmured, almost to himself. Then his gaze snapped to mine. “Miss? Can you hear me?”

My mouth felt dry, my tongue heavy to lift, but I forced out the only question I could manage.

“Where…am I?”

Both of them froze like I had just spoken in some forgotten language. The nurse's lips parted. "She's speaking?! She's speaking? How come? I thought she was mute.”

Mute?

The doctor recovered first, leaning forward. “You're in St. Aurelia’s Hospital. You…had an accident on stage. You fell. Do you remember?”

Now, everything didn't start to make sense.

I stared at him, my mind reeling. Fell? No. That wasn't what happened.

I remembered everything—it kept flashing in my head. The blade. The chanting of the crowd. The searing pain piercing into my heart and…and my sister, Alora’s smile.

What are they saying?

I sat bolt upright, urgency surging through me, the machines protesting with loud beeps. “No…no,” I shook my head. "That's wrong. I….”

And then it hit me like a bursting floodgate. The blurry visions.

I wasn't in the council hall, not in my pack. I was on a stage. An ornate theatre covered in golden light. An audience gasping as a ballerina…this body…twirled midair, then faltered. The slip, the scream, the sound of her head hitting the stage.

Two lines colliding in my mind…mine ending, hers ending…until I couldn't tell where one stopped and the other began.

I saw the… ballerina smiling at me as she pushed past me.

What the heck!

I pressed my hands to my head, shaking it aggressively. “Who…who am I?” I stuttered. “I want to know who I am!”

The nurse stepped back, whispering something urgent to the doctor. I only caught fragments: ‘memory loss…different voices… Check neurological responses.’

Her voice pulled me back. “Your name is Elise Durant. You're a cute dancer. You had an accident during a performance. The report says you were poisoned.”

I shook my head, gulping in hard.

Elise? Mute dancer?

“Get me a mirror. Get me a mirror.” I yelled, horror written all over my face, until I saw a mirror, fixed to the wall close to my bed.

I quickly stood up, my eyes and thinking fixed on checking the mirror. All the IV lines on my hands were ripped off as I ran towards it.

I saw curly chestnut hair, brown and green eyes, pouty pink lips, a pale porcelain face, and fitted jawlines, not my braided white hair and green eyes.

I shook my head. “These aren't mine. These aren't mine. I am Sloane. I am Sloane Waylon—a Luna. A Luna to be. I am not a dancer. I was killed. Why am I…”

The doctor moved closer to me, his steps calculated as he shone a penlight into my eyes like I was speaking gibberish. I jerked back, uneasy.

And then I saw him.

He was standing in the far corner, half-swallowed by shadow. Tall and lean, wearing a long dark coat that was sealed like liquid smoke. Short brown hair. Eyes—silver, not grey, not pale blue…silver? Like moonlight caught on water, cold and unblinking.

He wasn't watching the doctor. Or the nurse. He was watching me. His gaze was fixated on me.

I froze, my mouth opened widely, pointing before I could think. “Who…who is that?”

Both medical staff turned to look. Their eyes swept the corner, confusion written plain on their faces.

“There's no one there,” the doctor said slowly.

The man's mouth curved into a slow, mocking smile.

“Yes, there is!” My voice pitched higher. “Right there, in the corner! You don't see him?”

The nurse and doctor exchanged a glance, the kind that said, “This patient is unstable and not sane.”

The man pushed off the wall with a lazy grace, his footsteps silent even when he was in a rookie booth. His silver eyes never left mine while I backed away in fear.

“Don't come close to me.” I screamed, causing the doctor and the nurse to flinch back in fear. “Can you not see him! He is coming closer.” I yelled.

“Trying to run away from me, little ballerina?” His voice was deep, smooth, and laced with something sharp enough to cut.

Little Ballerina?

I exhaled anxiously as I closed my eyes. “Okay, now. I must be having some sort of dream because if none of them can’t see him, why can I see him?”

He came closer, each step blurring at the edges, like his outline didn't quite belong in the room. “Do you think you can hide in another skin? Do you think death breaks the tether between us?”

My pulse thundered. “Who are you? I am not a ballerina. I am a Luna!” I turned towards the nurse whose clueless eyes were focused on me. “Can't you hear him? He is speaking. You can't hear his voice?”

“What are you talking about?” The nurse asked, staring at the corner that felt maybe empty to them.

Or is this a prank? A prank for this body?

“Oops,” he tilted his head, smirking. “I forgot that you aren't my Elise anymore and I gave your soul a body, you are clueless. These people can't hear or see me.”

The air seemed to grow heavier, and I started to sweat.

What? W…what was he saying? My soul? He gave my soul a body?

Am I going crazy? Can someone please get me out of this misery!

I tried to push back as I lay on the bed, roughly, putting space between us, but my limbs felt weak. “I… I don't know you. I swear.”

“Lie to yourself if you must,” he murmured. “You don't know me, but I gave you the air you breathe. Run again, and I will drag you back myself.”

Something inside me recognized the threat…not with memory, but with instinct. My wolf, Tia, that seemed dead before, whimpered deep in the pit of my soul, a sound I hadn't heard since…since—

The nurse's voice broke through, confusion written all over her face. “Miss Durant? Are you feeling dizzy? Are you okay at all? You have been talking to yourself for the past minutes.”

I tore my eyes away from the man who seemed invisible to others. My mouth was dry. “I…I think I am losing my mind. I Sloane - was killed but here I am, in another person's skin, seeing a ghost! Don't you think I am losing it?.”

The doctor's expression softened in the way people do when they think you're fragile or you might have gone crazy and they have to take a good side from you. “You've been through a trauma, Miss Durant. It's normal to feel that way. Rest. Don't strain yourself.”

But I wasn't fragile. I was a Luna-to-be who had been executed and somehow...somehow woke up in another woman's body. A ballerina at that.

I gulped in hard, my gaze slowly getting back on the man at the corner, and before I could speak, before I could demand answers, he was gone. Just …gone. One blink and the space he occupied was empty, as though he had erased into thin air.

I stared at the corner, my chest heaving in fear, horror, and disbelief until… I heard the chill voice behind me.

“I love me a Luna like this.”