Nova stood in front of the mirror, staring at the reflection that had become increasingly unfamiliar over the past few months. She was no stranger to the unusual. At twelve, when most teens are going through bodily changes, she was going through violent outbursts. At fourteen, she started filling out, but realized that her hearing was extremely sensitive. At sixteen she had started intentionally pretending her sight was just average, giving the “correct” answers to the optician. Now, at eighteen, she started noticing a new irregularity that sent a chill down her spine.

Her once-smooth skin was now marred with faint reddish patches that seemed to be spreading across her cheeks and arms. It wasn't acne; it felt hot to the touch. She reached out to trace the marks, her fingers trembling slightly as she did so. They weren’t rashes, and they didn’t itch. "What the hell?" she muttered under her breath, her voice barely above a whisper. There were a lot of things that she could hide, and pretend were fine, but this was not one of them.

Nova had always hidden everything.

Her childhood was basic. Her parents tried to get her involved in birthday parties and sleepovers. They set up playdates, park dates, and dinner with friends. They dressed her in cute outfits, and even got her big stuffed pink animals, and thought that if they did enough that it would just fix her. That’s right…fix. Children always hear more than parents realize, and hers were never very good at being quiet.

She looked in the mirror again at the reflection staring back at her. She had hazel/gold eyes, honey toned skin, and dark brown wavy hair that fell midway down her back. They said she was such a beautiful girl to her face, but mumbled behind her back, about how strange or unusual she was. In contrast, her parents were pale, like the sun had run away from them, and looked nothing like her. Her mother was plain and had straight, sandy brown hair, and her father was blond and frail looking. They looked like characters from a horror flick.

Nova had always caused them a great deal of grief. She was only four years old when she asked where her real parents were. Her mother had broken a vase when she heard her question. She dropped it right on the floor and just stood there gawking at her. She was offended, screeching and ranting, and locked her in her room…until her father came home and calmed her mother down. That was the day they sat her down and told her that she was abandoned on their doorstep one stormy night. Abandoned.

She grew bolder as she aged, asking more difficult questions. Who leaves a baby in the middle of the night? Were there clues, or a note, a blanket, a name? Did you do any research? What about local accidents? Police reports? How does a baby show up on your doorstep and you just accept it and file for an adoption? Of course they dismissed these with vague reassurances, telling her that none of this mattered, they’d done their due diligence. She was theirs, they loved her and raised her as their own and she needn't worry about the past. “Not now dear,” was her mother’s favorite line.

The mirror didn’t lie to her though. It always showed her exactly who she was, on the outside anyway, and today her eyes appeared to have a faint flickering glow that reminded her of fire. Tearing her eyes away, she finally looked down and ran her hands over her arms, feeling the muscle beneath. She had been gaining strength gradually as well. She had mostly been able to hide that as well, although she'd gripped the edge of the kitchen counter during a fight with her mother and left gouges in the wood—marks they'd quietly painted over the next day. Neither of her parents brought it up, but she knew they had talked about it. She heard everything these days.

The last thing that she had noticed was the constant hunger. It had started subtly much like her muscle growth, but lately it was always there gnawing at her. Her parents were vegans. She had never considered a different way of living, but these days when she passed by the butcher shop her mouth watered. She asked her mother if they could get something and the woman acted like she’d raised a murderer, going home and ranting once again to her father. She had been tempted to sneak in to buy some herself, but what kind of person has to sneak meat home. She shook her head,at the ridiculous thought.

Nova pressed her palms against the cool surface of the sink, trying to steady herself. The mirror's reflection seemed to mock her uncertainty, the faint glow in her eyes growing brighter as her emotions surged. Whatever this was, it was just another abnormality to add to the growing list that was her life. Still, she thought, there was no denying that strange things kept happening to her. Glancing back down at her arm she noticed the red patches pulsing once again like a living thing. Her heart raced as she pressed her hand against her cheek. This was going to end like one of those horror movies where monsters exploded out of her, she thought.

"Nova, what’s taking so long?" Her mother’s voice called from the other side of the bathroom door, breaking her out of her trance.

She sighed once again, and cracked the door open to see her adoptive mother standing there, wearing a faded robe, hair tied up in a messy bun. Her eyes widened when she saw Nova and she shoved her way inside. She frowned as she leaned closer, her fingers brushing over the reddish patches blooming along Nova’s collarbone and creeping up her neck.

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"Probably just rosacea," she said, her tone light but dismissive. "That can happen to anyone." She scuttled back out, and barely paid Nova another glance. They were used to making excuses for the odd things that happened to her and nothing really seemed to faze them anymore. "Are you feeling ok?" she said, asking more out of duty than concern. Nova hesitated for a moment, then stepped away from her towards her room. "Yea," she lied, her voice barely above a whisper, avoiding eye contact.

That night after her parents had gone to bed Nova lay awake staring at the ceiling. Whatever might be wrong, she had no intention of mentioning it. She also didn’t want to be the reason their vacation was cancelled. They had planned their annual trip up to the mountains this weekend. It had been in the books for weeks, and even though neither of her parents really wanted to go, if she were the reason it got cancelled, they’d probably make things hell for her for weeks. No, nothing good could come of disrupting their plans to escape the chaos and pretend to be a family.

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The next morning everyone piled into the minivan for another exciting trip to the mountains. They had been taking this trip as long as she could remember. The drive was about two hours long, and used to be filled with corny old music and laughter, and an occasional I Spy game. These days, it was the quiet hum of tires on windy roads, her mother snoring in the passenger seat, or an occasional chirp that would filter through the cracked windows. Whatever had triggered the change, she was sure, had to do with herself.

Nova sat in the backseat, chin propped on her hand, watching as the road stretched endlessly ahead. Today instead of silence, her parents’ chatter buzzed in the background, but she wasn’t really listening. The tension between them had been simmering since they left home. When they finally pulled up to the cabin by the lake, the sun hovered just above the treetops, glinting off the water's surface. The place was remote, tucked deep into the woods, with only the sounds of nature to remind them the world hadn’t stopped spinning.

Her father killed the engine with a sigh, stepping out and stretching like he’d just crossed the country. “Well, here we are,” he muttered, not bothering to hide the fatigue in his voice. “Let’s get this over with.” Nova rolled her eyes but slid out of the car, her boots crunching on the gravel. This trip used to be one that they all looked forward to, but now it was just an obligation. She doubted they’d even go anymore after she graduated and moved out. At least she could breathe a little out here.

Her mother was already fussing with the bags in the trunk. “Come on, Nova. Don’t just stand there. Help with the supplies,” she called over her shoulder, her tone clipped, like this trip was some chore Nova had personally forced on them. She grabbed a bag, slinging it over her shoulder without a word. The cabin wasn’t much, just a small, weathered building that looked like it had seen better days. But the view of the lake was stunning, the water reflecting the sun’s golden light like molten glass. It would’ve been peaceful if her parents' presence didn’t feel so suffocating.

They unpacked in silence, the occasional grunt or sharp comment breaking the stillness.Her parents barely seemed to notice her discomfort, brushing off her quiet mood as typical teenage angst. By the time they were settled inside, the sun was dipping low, casting long shadows that crept along the walls of the cabin. “Let’s build a fire,” her father announced, clapping his hands together like it was some grand idea. “Might as well enjoy the night before it gets too cold.” Her mother was already gathering kindling from a pile near the cabin, like she was on some sort of weird wavelength with him. Nova followed them, the cool evening air prickling against her skin as they made their way to the fire pit by the edge of the lake. At least her parents knew how to use a blowtorch.

“You’ve been quiet all day,” her mother commented, poking at the fire with a stick. “What’s wrong now?” Nova sat on a log, staring into the flames as they danced and flickered. “I just don’t feel well,” she absentmindedly said. The warmth should’ve been comforting, but there was a heaviness in her chest. She felt on edge. These people didn’t even want to be here with her. At what point were they going to stop pretending they cared about her at all. Her anger flared.

“Honestly, Nova,” her mother muttered, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting?” Her father didn’t even look up from his phone as he said, “You’re fine. Stop being dramatic and keep quiet.” She opened her mouth to protest, suddenly furious at their dismissal, but the words died in her throat as pain erupted from within, stealing her breath. She staggered to a stop, a strangled gasp escaping her lips as her knees buckled.

“Nova?” Her mother’s voice was sharp now, but not with concern. Annoyance bled into her tone as she huffed and turned back. “What is it now?” Both parents moved toward her, footsteps heavy on the gravel. Her mother’s hands gripped her shoulders aggressively, like she was trying to shake her out of whatever fit they thought she was having. Her father crouched, finally pulling his gaze from his phone, irritation flickering across his face. “Enough, Nova. Get up,” he muttered, but his words trailed off as he saw her eyes, wide, wild, and glowing faintly in the moonlight.

The pain was explosive.Heat surged through her veins, her body trembling violently, and then there was fire. She was enshrouded in flames, and as she tried to warn them, to scream “run!”, the words twisted into something feral sounding. Her bones shattered, reforming with brutal force. Her spine arched, fur ripping through her skin in a suffocating wave. The air filled with the sharp scent of fear, their fear, but it was too late. Her father was killed instantly, and her mother’s scream echoed in the night, but it was cut short as Nova’s claws slashed through the air, too fast, too violent to stop. Blood splattered across the ground, the scent rich and metallic, making Nova’s head spin.

When the transformation was complete, the fire faded, and Nova stood over their crumpled forms, the blood pooling around them. Their eyes were wide, frozen in shock, staring up at the daughter they no longer recognized. The daughter they had grown to resent, and criticize. The daughter who had tried to be theirs, but had never been good enough. Rage still simmered within her, and she stood there feeling sick, the realization crashing over her that she had done this. She had killed them.

Before the horror could fully sink in, something shifted in the shadows beyond the firelight. Unseen eyes watched from the treeline, sharp and unblinking. A wolf stood there, his form half-hidden among the trees, his golden gaze fixed on the monstrous figure before him. He had stayed hidden, observing them from afar. Something had drawn him here. Whatever it was, it felt ancient and sacred. However, when he’d arrived, all he found was this family, and so he’d watched. He’d watched them bicker, and squabble, and act like most humans. He’d watched them mistreat the girl with them, which he could tell was not human. Then finally, he’d watched as this girl burst into flame, and transformed into the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.

And then she ran.

He waited until the forest swallowed her whole before stepping out of the shadows. His eyes lingered on the bloodstained ground, the scent of death thick in the air. He knew he couldn’t let her go, not now. She might not have realized it yet, but he knew…

He would find her…and when he did, the real story would begin.