From Ashes to Alpha

Three days after the preliminary competition, I was finishing my shift at the loading dock when my phone vibrated in my pocket.

Mia's name flashed on the screen. She rarely called during the day unless something was wrong.

"Mia? Everything okay?" I answered, moving away from the noisy forklift.

"James, you need to come over. Now." Her voice was tight with panic.

"I'm still at work," I said, glancing at my supervisor who was already giving me the evil eye. 

"What's going on?"

"Please, James." The tremor in her voice set off alarm bells in my head. "I can't explain over the phone."

I made a split-second decision. "Give me twenty minutes."

After making up an excuse about a family emergency to my boss—who reluctantly let me go with the promise I'd work a double shift tomorrow—I raced across town to Mia's apartment complex.

The building was in one of the city's forgotten corners, sandwiched between an abandoned warehouse and a convenience store with bars on its windows.

I took the stairs two at a time to the third floor, ignoring the smell of mold and cheap takeout that permeated the hallway. When I reached 3D, I didn't even need to knock—the door swung open immediately.

Mia stood there, her normally composed face etched with worry.

Her apartment was small but meticulously kept—a single room with a kitchenette in one corner and a bed pushed against the opposite wall.

Colorful scarves hung from the walls, a futile attempt to brighten the dingy space.

"What's wrong?" I asked, stepping inside. "Did something happen with the competition?"

Mia didn't answer. Instead, she closed the door and led me to her ancient laptop sitting open on a small folding table. The screen displayed a YouTube video with a freeze-frame of Mia on stage.

"Look at this," she said, clicking the play button.

The video began with shaky footage, clearly shot from a cell phone in the audience. I immediately recognized it as her performance from the preliminary round.

"Someone recorded you," I stated the obvious. "We knew that might happen."

"Keep watching," she urged, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of her oversized sweater.

The video continued, capturing Mia's transformation from nervous contestant to mesmerizing performer. As the camera zoomed in on her face during the song's climax, I saw what had terrified her.

For just a fraction of a second, when she hit the most powerful note, her eyes flashed with a subtle golden glow—imperceptible to human viewers, but unmistakable to those who knew what to look for.

"Shit," I muttered.

"That's not even the worst part," Mia said, scrolling down to the comments section. "Look at the view count."

The number stood at just over 1.2 million.

"This was posted yesterday," she added, her voice barely above a whisper.

I sank into the chair beside her, the implications hitting me like a physical blow.

Publicity was exactly what we'd wanted for her career, but this level of exposure put her at risk of discovery.

"Maybe it's not as bad as we think," I offered, though my own instincts were screaming danger. "Most humans would just attribute that to a lighting effect or—"

The incessant buzzing of Mia's phone interrupted me.

She picked it up, showing me the screen filled with notifications—emails, social media mentions, messages from strangers.

"It's been like this all morning," she said, dropping the phone on the table as if it had burned her. "I don't know what to do, James."

I scrolled through some of the comments on the video:

"Who IS this girl? "

"Getting chills every time I watch this. There's something almost supernatural about her performance."

"Does anyone else notice something weird with her eyes at 2:17? kind of weird but cool."

My stomach tightened.

Mia paced the small space, biting her lower lip—a nervous habit I'd grown fond of over the years.

Her phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID and her eyes widened. "It's the third record label today," she whispered, then abruptly grabbed the phone and answered.

"Hello?" Her voice shifted instantly, becoming more controlled and professional. "Yes, this is Mia Wilson."

I watched as she listened, her expression cycling through shock, confusion, and finally, a cautious joy that she tried to suppress.

"That's... very generous," she responded to whatever offer was being made. "Can I have some time to think about it? ... Yes, of course. I'll call you back by tomorrow. Thank you."

Mia's expression was on the verge of crying. "I don't want my identity as a werewolf to be discovered. What should I do?"

Mia refreshed the page again. 1.3 million views now.

I hugged Mia and felt sorry for this simple and silly girl. "Your mother is human, and you are also a child of humans. Don't worry. Just enjoy the happiness of being famous first, okay? If there are really any problems in the future, I will definitely be by your side at any time."

"I'll take you for a ride." After saying that, I forcibly pulled her out of the room.

We drove in companionable silence for about twenty minutes, the sounds of the city gradually fading behind us.

The path crested a small hill, and spread before us was a wide, open meadow.

In the distance, the city skyline glittered like fallen stars, beautiful from this distance in a way it never was up close.

"I had no idea this place existed," Mia said, her voice soft with wonder.

"Not many people do," I replied. "It's set for development next year, but for now, it's one of the few places where I can..." I hesitated.

"Be yourself?" she finished for me.

I nodded. "Out here, there's no one to hide from."

We found a comfortable spot on a patch of soft grass.

The nearly full moon hung heavy in the sky, bathing everything in a silvery glow. Mia hugged her knees to her chest, her eyes fixed on the distant city lights.

"You come here to run, don't you?" she asked after a while.

I smiled faintly. "When the moon is right and the night is clear. It's not the forests of my ancestors, but it's something."

She nodded, understanding. Though half-wolf herself, Mia had always struggled with her transformation—a common challenge for those of mixed blood.

"I should withdraw from the competition, shouldn't I?" Her question came suddenly, her gaze still fixed on the horizon.

The question hung between us, heavy with implications.

Part of me—the cautious part that had kept me alive on the fringes of wolf society—wanted to say yes. But another part, perhaps the braver part, thought otherwise.

"No," I said finally. "I don't think you should."

"You know what it's like for people like us, Mia," I continued, my voice low and serious.

"Outcasts, never fully accepted by either world. Wolves see us as impure, humans would see us as monsters if they knew the truth."

"Exactly why I should stop now," she argued. "Before more attention makes hiding impossible."

I shook my head. "Your music..."

"Will expose who I am," she finished, a note of resignation in her voice.

"Will become a bridge," I countered, turning to face her fully. "Your music carries both worlds within it—the raw power of your wolf blood and the emotional depth of your human side. It speaks to something universal, something that could help both sides understand each other better."

Mia scoffed lightly. "Now you sound like a greeting card, James."

"I'm serious," I insisted. "You saw how those humans responded to your song. They felt something, even if they didn't understand what it was. And any wolves who heard it..."

"Would recognize me as a threat," she said grimly.

"Or as a miracle," I suggested. "A voice that carries ancient magic thought lost to our kind. Do you think Amelia Jones would bother with you if she just saw you as a liability?"

Mia twirled the wolfsbane between her fingers, considering my words. "But if I'm discovered..."

"Then we face it," I said firmly, reaching out to take her hand. "You're not alone in this, Mia. I'll be right beside you, whatever comes. If you run now, you'll always be living on the margins, never belonging anywhere. But if you have the courage to stand your ground, you might change everything—not just for yourself, but for others like us."

The city lights twinkled in the distance, each one representing the kind of normal life neither of us had ever experienced. Above us, the moon pulled at something primal in my blood, an instinct as old as time.

Mia took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "You really believe I can do this?"

"I believe your voice has power," I said softly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "The same kind of power that's in your soul. Keep singing, Mia. Let the world hear what you have to say."

For a long moment, she said nothing, her gaze shifting from the distant city to the vast sky above us. When she finally looked back at me, her eyes glistened with unshed tears, golden flecks dancing in their depths.

I gestured to the empty meadow around us. "No one for miles. No cameras, no audience. Just you, your voice, and the moon. Show me what happens when you don't hold back."

Uncertainty flickered across her face. "James, I don't know if that's a good idea. If I lose control—"

"I'm here," I assured her. "I've spent my whole life learning to control my wolf side with minimal guidance. I can help you if things get intense."

She squared her shoulders, determination replacing fear in her eyes. "Okay. Stand back a little, just in case."

I moved a few paces away, giving her space. Mia closed her eyes, centering herself. When she began to sing, it was soft at first—a gentle melody in that ancient language I couldn't understand but felt deep in my bones.

As her confidence grew, so did the power in her voice. The air around us seemed to vibrate with energy. My skin prickled, and I felt my wolf stirring beneath the surface, responding to her call.

Still, I maintained control, watching with fascination as Mia fully embraced her gift for the first time.

Her eyes opened, and they were shining pure gold now—no longer just flecks or reflections, but fully transformed.

The wind picked up around us, swirling in time with her song, caressing the tall grass in undulating waves that seemed to dance to her music.

It was beautiful. It was terrifying. It was the most magnificent thing I'd ever witnessed.

When the final note faded into the night, Mia stood there, breathing hard, her eyes slowly returning to their normal color. She looked at me with a mixture of exhilaration and fear.

"Did you feel it?" she asked.

I nodded, unable to find words for a moment. "That was... incredible."

"I felt in control," she said, wonder in her voice. "For the first time, I wasn't afraid of what might happen. I directed it, James."