Visions in the Soil

-Paige-

I find myself trapped in a strange, hazy dream. The world around me is thick with an impenetrable grey mist.

*Paige? What are you doing here?* a voice calls out, echoing softly through the empty void.

I spin around in the haze. *…Auntie Miriam?* I reply, completely disoriented by the sudden, inexplicable presence of a relative I haven't seen in years.

*Honey, you shouldn’t be here. I thought we would never see you again. Don't worry darling, I'll send you back,* she soothes. Her gentle words wrap around my consciousness like a warm blanket, pulling me away from the strange mist.

I jolt awake from the strange, unsettling dream, gasping sharply as my eyes snap open to stare at the familiar ceiling of my bedroom. Despite the bizarre encounter in my subconscious, I am surprisingly feeling incredibly rested. The bone-deep exhaustion from hours of intense surgery on the Lycan has seemingly vanished into thin air. I lay there for a moment, listening to the heavy rain pouring outside. The rhythmic drumming against my window makes me want to stay buried safely beneath the warm, inviting sheets forever.

Just as my heavy eyelids begin to droop and I'm about to doze off again, my Alpha and best friend, Sloane, abruptly mind-links me. I groan, rolling over and pulling a thick pillow tightly over my ears. I try my absolute best to ignore her persistent calls, mentally projecting a solid wall of radio silence. But Sloane is nothing if not relentlessly determined, and she actively resorts to shameless blackmail.

*Girl! If you don’t get your ass into my office in the next ten minutes, I’m going in there and dragging you here myself! If I go into labor because of the physical exertion, it’s on you.*

"Dammit," I grumble under my breath, thoroughly annoyed about bossy pregnant Alphas who know exactly which buttons to push. Defeated, I drag myself out of the comfortable bed and shuffle to the bathroom. I splash some freezing water on my face and quickly brush my teeth. I don't even bother rummaging through my closet; I head straight out the door still wearing the same comfortable clothes I slept in—the very same ones I had on during yesterday's chaotic hospital shift.

The pack house corridors are eerily quiet this early in the morning, the gloomy weather keeping everyone tucked away indoors. I make a beeline straight to the Alpha’s office, feeling a knot of unease twisting in my gut.

When I push the heavy oak doors open, the oppressive atmosphere inside hits me like a physical wall. I find a highly tense gathering inside the spacious room. Sloane sits rigidly behind her desk, accompanied by our Beta Blake, her husband Trent, and to my absolute displeasure, the exceedingly rude older Lycan from the hospital room. He stands off to the side, his massive, hulking frame and dark, stormy eyes bringing an intimidating weight to the space. I keep my face carefully neutral, bowing my head respectfully to Sloane while entirely ignoring the Lycan's looming presence.

Sloane wastes no time and gets straight to the grim point. Her expression is deadly serious. She explains that yesterday, our border scouts smelled massive amounts of blood near the boundary line. Ten of our border patrol wolves went missing when they crossed over to investigate, only to return much later, escorting three badly injured Lycans.

Blake takes over the grim narrative, his posture stiff and highly formal. He explains that our wolves found the Lycans desperately fighting something completely unknown. "Whatever this mysterious entity was, it violently chased the Lycans across the border directly into our territory," Blake says, throwing a cautious glance at the older Lycan. "And then it aggressively began attacking our wolves as well."

"Your wolves saved us, and I am forever grateful for your assistance," the rude Lycan says. His deep voice is surprisingly polite, shocking me with his sudden civility. "I only wish I could be of more help deciphering what the hell was attacking us in the first place."

Sloane turns her sharp, evaluating gaze to me, her eyes probing mine for answers. She asks if the Lycan I operated on mentioned anything before passing out.

"No, sorry," I reply quickly, shaking my head. "He came in unconscious."

But before I can drop the subject and retreat to the background, the rude Lycan interjects, his sharp gaze locking firmly onto me. "But he did whisper something to you."

I freeze, a cold sweat breaking out on the back of my neck.

Sloane leans forward, her curiosity instantly piqued. "What did he whisper?" she asks, her commanding tone leaving no room for evasion.

Realizing I have no escape, with all the heavy eyes in the room bearing down on me, I reluctantly mutter the single word: "Mate."

The entire room freezes instantly. The silence is deafening as everyone stares at me in utter, baffled confusion.

"He doesn’t have a mate," the rude Lycan states firmly through tightly gritted teeth. He is clearly offended by the implication, his grey eyes flashing with dangerous warning.

*Was he referring to you?* Sloane mind-links me privately, her internal tone buzzing with raw, unfiltered excitement.

*I don't know!* I shoot back mentally, feeling my cheeks flush with unwanted heat.

*Did you feel… anything? When you touched him?* she presses.

The sudden realization dawns on me like a ton of heavy bricks. I replay the hectic, blood-soaked moments in the clinic. The only time I actually touched him with my bare hands, I felt a violent, undeniable electrical current beneath my fingertips. It had seared through my skin, a spark of pure, primal magic that I had foolishly chalked up to surging adrenaline. Sloane and I share a deep, knowing look across the tense room that speaks volumes. The mate bond sparks were real.

Choosing to dismiss the incredibly awkward tension hanging thick in the air, Sloane clears her throat and gives me a specific, serious look I know all too well. "Paige, could you… ask?"

The Lycans look completely confused, naturally assuming she means I should go interrogate the unconscious patient currently comatose in a hospital bed. But I know exactly what she means; she is asking me to ask the forest. I offer her a solemn, understanding nod, turning on my heel and leaving the safety of the pack house without another spoken word.

I sprint across the wet pack grounds, my sneakers splashing through muddy puddles until I run half a mile deep into the drizzling, gloomy woods. I kick off my shoes to bare my feet, desperately needing the direct contact with the ground. Crouching down low, I press one hand firmly into the damp soil and place the other flat against the rough bark of the deepest-rooted tree in the entire grove. Breathing in the rich, earthy scent of the petrichor, I let the howling wind and the steady pulse of the earth convey their ancient memories. I push my awareness downward, digging my consciousness deeper, desperate for any answers about the brutal attack at the border.

Suddenly, the vision hits my mind with horrifying, brutal clarity. The magical transition is violent, plunging me face-first into absolute carnage.

I see an invisible beast. Its massive, terrifying form is seen only through faint, shifting shadows that unnaturally distort the forest light, and massive, crushing footprints abruptly appearing, stamping deep into the bloody ground. It is viciously, effortlessly slaughtering a large group of elite Lycan warriors. They are being brutally crushed beneath unseen weight, bitten by phantom jaws, and torn apart limb from limb, whimpering helplessly in excruciating pain as they are systematically dismantled.

The vivid green grass is entirely littered with dead, mangled bodies. Severed extremities are scattered like discarded trash, and an endless river of dark crimson blood soaks deep into the thirsty soil. Out of the massive, chaotic carnage, I helplessly watch as only three battered Lycans managed to miraculously escape the slaughter and run blindly toward us.

The sheer, overwhelming horror of the massacre violently breaks the connection.

I stand up abruptly, violently severing my magical ties to the earth. I am sobbing uncontrollably, hot tears streaming down my pale face as the lingering phantom pain of the slaughtered Lycans shakes my entire body to its core. My chest heaves violently, gasping for shallow, desperate breaths in the cool forest air. I wrap my arms tightly around myself, feeling the icy dread seep deep into my very bones.

It takes several long, agonizing minutes to force myself to compose my fractured, traumatized mind just enough to reach out through the mind-link.

*Sloane.*

Her response is instantaneous. *Paige, did you get anything?*

I swallow the thick knot of grief and pure terror lodging in my throat, staring blankly at the dark trees surrounding me.

*Yes, but you’re not going to like it.*