Chapter 4

Cassandra's POV

The dining room gleamed with opulence, bathed in the golden light of dawn. Elaborate chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting intricate shadows on the rich tapestries that adorned the walls. The scent of an extravagant breakfast filled the air, a feast fit for a family of status and power.

Seated at the head of the table was my father, his presence as imposing as the grandeur of the room itself. His gaze, sharp and calculating, met mine as I took my seat. The tension between us was palpable, a barrier of icy silence that divided us. If only I had a mother, maybe I would have had someone to turn to. A pity that she died giving birth to me.

We ate in silence, the clinking of silverware against fine china punctuating the chilly atmosphere. I pushed my food around, my appetite diminished by the awkwardness that hung heavy in the air.

"Your 18th birthday approaches, Cassandra," my father finally spoke, his voice slicing through the uneasy quiet.

I raised my eyes to meet his, his expression inscrutable—a mask of authority that had become all too familiar. "Yes, Father," I replied, my tone carefully neutral.

He nodded, his attention returning to his plate. "It's time for you to start considering potential mates. Our family's legacy demands a suitable choice."

The mere mention of a mate ignited a spark of frustration, a bitterness I struggled to conceal. I yearned for a life beyond societal expectations, a life where I could pursue my own dreams without the weight of tradition.

"I understand, Father," I replied, the words falling from my lips like a well-practiced script. Voicing my true desires, my dream of becoming a writer, would only result in his disapproval. My role was to uphold the family name, to bear the burden of generations of tradition.

Breakfast concluded, his gaze locked onto me once more. "Get ready for training," he instructed, his tone brooking no argument.

Training—an obligatory practice that had become a daily chore, a reminder of my duty to be strong and capable. It was an activity I had never taken pleasure in, a duty imposed on me to maintain the Lycoan name.

We walked in silence to the training grounds, his footsteps echoing in the morning calm. The training grounds were not a conventional gym but a secluded forest at the back of our sprawling estate. It was a place of secrecy, where the Lycoan family honed their skills away from prying eyes.

My father turned to me, his gaze unyielding. "Evade capture, Cassandra," he instructed, his voice edged with an uncommon intensity. "Show me your ability to elude even the most skilled pursuer."

With a nod, I darted into the forest, my heart pounding with a mix of excitement and trepidation. The lush foliage blurred past as I maneuvered through the trees, the rustling leaves and distant birdsong providing the soundtrack to our silent game.

As I ran, a voice echoed within me—a voice that was both mine and not mine. My inner wolf, my instinctual self, whispered guidance in the midst of the chase. It directed me, advising me to veer left or to leap over an obstacle. It was as if my inner wolf was an extension of myself, guiding my every move with a wisdom beyond my conscious understanding.

The forest became a canvas of movement, my steps flowing in harmony with the rhythm of nature. I pushed myself, my body responding to the guidance of my inner wolf. The branches brushed against my skin, the earth beneath my feet carrying the stories of centuries.

Amidst the exhilaration, an awareness lingered—that the expectations of my father cast a shadow over my freedom. I longed to break free, but the legacy of the Lycoan family bound me like chains.

And so, I ran through the forest, my steps a dance with the pulse of the earth. The cool morning breeze blended with my exertion, a reminder that beneath the constraints, there was still a part of me unyielding—a part that yearned for liberation, to chase dreams beyond the confines of expectation.

As I wove through the forest, my inner wolf guided me through a series of intricate maneuvers, helping me elude my father's pursuit. I zigzagged between trees, my movements fluid and graceful, a dance of evasion that was becoming increasingly exhilarating. Each time I glanced back, my father was just out of reach, frustration etched across his face.

Suddenly, I reached a cliff's edge. For a split second, uncertainty gripped me, but my inner wolf urged me forward. I launched myself off the precipice, a surge of adrenaline propelling me into the air. The world around me blurred as I plummeted towards the stream below, the cold rush of water engulfing me upon impact.

Underwater, I kicked my legs and propelled myself upwards, breaking the surface with a triumphant gasp. My claws gripped the moss-covered rocks at the stream's edge, and with a burst of strength, I hauled myself out of the water and onto solid ground.

I could hear my father's distant footsteps growing louder as he approached the cliff. I couldn't afford to stay in one place for too long. Without hesitation, I resumed my sprint, my breath mingling with the cool morning air. The forest seemed to pulse with energy, its heart beating in rhythm with my own.

The terrain shifted as I ran, a symphony of earth and life that resonated within me. The forest was alive, its secrets whispered through the rustling leaves and the gentle caress of the wind. With every step, I felt a connection to the world around me, a sensation that was both exhilarating and humbling.

My father's presence was like a shadow behind me, an ever-present reminder of the path I was meant to tread. But as the gap between us narrowed, a surge of determination overtook me. My inner wolf urged me to push harder, to outrun the expectations that had held me captive for so long.

I could hear his footsteps gaining on me, the sound of his breath echoing in the stillness of the forest. And then, in a moment of raw instinct, I surrendered to the power that coursed through me. My body shifted, bones and muscles realigning as I transformed into my wolf form.

The world around me took on new dimensions—the scents more vibrant, the sounds sharper. With each stride, I felt the earth beneath my white furred paws, the connection between us unbreakable. I pushed myself to the limits, my wolf form a blur of motion as I surged forward.

Behind me, I heard my father's howl—a mix of frustration and determination that echoed through the forest. It only fueled my resolve. I pushed my speed even further, my body responding with a primal ferocity.

My surroundings became a blur as I raced through the forest, the ground a symphony of soil and leaves beneath my paws. The adrenaline surged through my veins, my pulse a rhythm that matched the pounding of the earth itself. The forest enveloped me, a living entity that danced in harmony with my movements.

As I sped ahead, I felt the dirt beneath my paws, the cool earth a reminder of the world I was part of. With every step, I embraced the untamed spirit within me, the legacy of the Lycoan family melding with my own desire for freedom.

Amidst the exhilaration of my sprint through the forest, a distant memory surfaced—a memory that held the key to my unyielding determination. It was a memory of my first transformation, a pivotal moment in my life that had forever changed the course of my destiny.

In the midst of my rapid pace, I closed my eyes for a fleeting moment, allowing the memory to wash over me. I was back in that same forest, the very one that surrounded me now. The moon hung low in the sky, its silvery light casting an ethereal glow over the landscape.

I was younger then, inexperienced and unsure of the world that existed beyond the boundaries of my father's expectations. My first transformation had been both exhilarating and terrifying—a plunge into the unknown, an embodiment of my dual nature as both human and wolf.

As the memory played out in my mind, I saw myself standing in the same moonlit clearing, my heart pounding in my chest. The sensation of my body changing, reshaping itself, was both exhilarating and agonizing. The bones in my body shifted, my skin stretched and contorted, and a primal howl escaped my lips.

In that moment of transformation, I felt a surge of power unlike anything I had ever experienced. The world took on new dimensions, scents and sounds more acute, colors more vibrant. My senses were heightened, and I felt a connection to the forest that was both visceral and spiritual.

But with the power came an overwhelming sense of vulnerability. The sensation of fur against my skin, the unfamiliarity of my own body—it was a visceral reminder that I was entering a realm of existence I had never known. Fear mingled with excitement, uncertainty with determination.

As the memory unfolded, I relived the moment I took my first step as a wolf, the sensation of the forest floor beneath my paws. I could almost feel the cool earth against my pads, the dew-kissed grass tickling my fur. I had moved with a sense of wonder and trepidation, exploring this new form that was both alien and yet strangely familiar.

And then, in the depths of the memory, I remembered the moonlight filtering through the leaves, the soft breeze that carried with it the secrets of the night. I had let out a howl—a howl that was both a declaration of my presence and a celebration of my newfound identity. It was a howl that echoed through the ages, a connection to the lineage that ran deep within me.

As the memory faded, I found myself back in the present moment, my wolf form racing through the same forest that had witnessed my first transformation. The memory of that pivotal event fueled my determination, reminding me of the strength that lay within me.

My father's voice and footsteps were distant echoes now, overshadowed by the fierce beating of my heart. I pushed myself harder, every stride a testament to my defiance, to the spirit of the Lycoan family that lived on in me.

I reached the end of the path, transforming back and picking up a towel that was left lying for me. Without turning to know if my father had reached, I ran back into the mansion.