Nova's POV
I didn't breathe.
Couldn't.
Before me stood a creature I never thought I'd see outside storybooks—massive, regal, terrifying… and breathtakingly beautiful.
Eldur.
No, Eldur's wolf.
His fur was pure white, like snow under moonlight, glowing faintly with silver at the edges as if the stars themselves had laced it. His eyes—those same striking silver eyes—watched me with a calm, familiar warmth, filled with something ancient… and something tender.
I just stood there like a statue with a wildly hammering heart.
"Oh my God," I breathed.
My legs were trembling, like they were trying to decide whether to run or bow. This couldn't be real. People don't turn into wolves. I mean—yeah, Eldur told me, but I figured he meant metaphorically. Or at most, in a "I'm cursed and turn into a wolf during blood moons" kind of way.
But he literally changed. Bones. Body. Everything.
And now that wolf—Eldur—was walking toward me.
