When she turned eighteen, Noah set fire to her own coat.

The incident was just another in her daily life, and as unfortunate as it was, it was the result of the unpredictability of his powers.

However, the time had come to choose a college. She thought long and hard, did her research, and talked to her uncle. Finally, she admitted that she wanted to prove to the world that she could use her powers for good. So, from among the possibilities that her grades allowed, she chose the Arcanogenetics course. There was only one problem: the nearest college was in Brévan.

Once again, niece and uncle hit the road.

The new city was humid and surrounded by dense forest, the kind of place where mornings were covered in fog, and the birds always seemed to be on alert. Noah and Damon now lived in a small rented house on the outskirts of Brévan, a city in the south of the country, where no one knew her, no one knew what she was, and where the past could be buried, even if only for a while.

Noah was no longer the little girl with round eyes who murmured apologies for everything. She was intelligent, quiet, full of hidden thoughts… and she had something in her eyes that Damon had only seen in the field, in very young soldiers who returned from war changed.

One afternoon, the wind was blowing hard, and the clouds were racing across the sky; the television was off because Noah didn’t like the sound of commercials. Damon, sitting on the porch with a cigarette between his fingers, was reading an old mechanics manual for the hundredth time. His knee was throbbing, but he pretended it wasn’t. In years like this, not leap years, they celebrated her anniversary the day before. And, as they had every year since they left Kirel, they kept the day simple.

A small cake. A hidden gift. No mention of the past.

Her father, in the end, had not kept his promise to find them. Not yet, anyway.

Noah left the room wearing a new coat – a gift from her uncle, dark blue, lined on the inside. She had thanked him with a smile and disappeared shortly after. Damon noticed that she was restless; the energy beneath her skin seemed to tremble.

That’s when it happened.

A muffled scream came from inside the house, followed by a sharp crack, as if something had exploded in the air. Damon dropped his cigarette and limped inside. Smoke filled the room.

A strange smell, not exactly of burning – but of raw, living, pulsing energy.

In the middle of the room, Noah was kneeling. Her hands raised. Her eyes filled with tears.

And the new coat, the one he had just given her, was on fire – but without consuming her skin.

The flames danced across the fabric as if obeying something invisible. She trembled, her fingers stretched out in the air as if begging for it to stop.

Damon ran to her, ignoring the pain in his knee, and pulled the coat off her body with desperate speed. She threw it on the floor and smothered the flames with a blanket. The fire was extinguished in seconds. But the silence after it seemed to scream louder.

Noah was crying.

“I didn’t mean to…”, she murmured. “I didn’t mean to burn… I just… I just got… frustrated.”

Damon held her shoulders firmly but gently.

“Look at me, Noah.”

She hesitated, but obeyed. Her brown eyes seemed to sparkle with restrained sparks.

“I know you didn’t do it on purpose. I know your powers are out of control. Calm down.”

“Even if they’re out of control, it can’t always be like this… I could end up hurting someone without meaning to… And if that happens, what do I do? I’m not a monster!“

Damon hesitated. He took a deep breath.

“You’ll never hurt anyone, girl. And you’re not a monster. You’re just an eximius, Noah. You have power like any other witch… You just need to learn to control it.”

Noah swallowed hard, frightened.

“I don’t want to be that. I don’t want… that.”

“I didn’t want you to go through this either.”, he pulled her close, pressing her against his chest. “But now that it’s happening… I won’t leave you alone. And I’ll help you deal with it however I can…”

She sobbed again, more weakly this time.

“How are you going to help me, uncle? You’re an alpha, a lycan…”

He pulled back just enough to look at her. His gaze was firm, determined, but full of concern.

“I can help a little. Teach you the basics, the safe stuff. Just the theory, for now. Nothing that can hurt you. Then… when the time comes… I’ll take you to someone who can really help you. An old friend of mine. He understands magic. He understands eximius. I don’t have magic, so I can’t do much… But I was raised by someone like you, so I’m not that clueless.”

Noah nodded slowly, more for comfort than understanding.

Damon struggled to his feet and helped her up. Together, they stared at what was left of the coat on the floor. Ashes, twisted fabric, and a burned memory.

He put his arm around her shoulders and said, almost as a warning to himself:

“We’ll figure it out. Even if the world says otherwise.”

And she believed him. Because Damon never lied.

The following month, they took a short trip to Vence, a small neighboring town. There, Noah was taken to an old witch. Damon had noticed a strange aura around her in recent days, something he had never seen in any witch or wizard, not even her mother.

The old witch was silent for a long time before finally saying that the strange aura was nothing more than the embodiment of the chaos she carried. Before they left, the old witch gave one last warning: they should stay as far away from the Cerdaville family as possible.

When asked about it, she told Damon what happened in Kirel after they left.

There was a family, the Cerdavilles, a long line of pure–blooded alphas who hunted eximius to strengthen their bloodline. They had recently invaded Kirel Valley in search of an eximius.

The old witch continued to recount details of what had happened, including the news that the eximius’s supposed parents had been killed and that her younger brother was missing.

He kept his expression indifferent, as if he had no idea who it could be. He didn’t know her well enough to trust her with the truth, even though his stomach was churning with it.

Damon hadn’t hidden anything from Noah. He told him everything, every word exactly as the old witch had. Noah showed no reaction. She remained silent, her face impassive. She promised she would find her brother, no matter what it took.

She also promised revenge.

Damon quickly dismissed that thought, afraid it might ignite something even darker inside her.

To stay safe, Noah mastered the art of pretending to be an alpha. Strangely, after meeting the old witch in Vence, Noah never felt that aura again, only sensing her existence in the depths of her soul.

Ominous, but silent.

A few months after turning eighteen, when she went into a store to buy some new clothes, already in her second semester of college, Noah saw her reflection in the mirror and, standing next to her, a woman with a serious expression.

“I’m Seren.”

The voice echoed inside her head; Noah turned to see who it was, but she was alone. Fear paralyzed her.

It wasn’t a spirit. It was something that was part of her.

Seren had long, curly black hair with a few white strands and gray eyes.

When she told her uncle, she was advised never to tell anyone about Seren, and never to get into situations where she would lose control, which could end up with her using her powers. Not that she needed such advice, after all, she hardly ever used her powers, and Seren always remained very quiet in her mind, just as her powers seemed to have fallen asleep.

It was like that for years.

During college, through various part–time jobs, through her twenties…

When Noah was in her thirties, still living with her uncle, who now seemed more like an annoying friend, Noah found himself once again on the road.

Damon had received an unexpected offer: to run a sawmill in Berkshire – a populous and well–known town located between the south and the center of the country. In addition to an excellent salary, the offer included a newly renovated two–bedroom cabin, isolated in the middle of the forest.

The opportunity arose because the current owner, an old friend of his, was about to move away. It was a tempting opportunity for Damon, who no longer had the vigor he had when he was younger.

After some discussion and consideration with Noah, Damon not only accepted the position but decided to buy the business outright. The move happened quickly and practically – they never accumulated many possessions, a result of the itinerant life they had led for years.

Noah, now older and able to take care of herself, always suspected that there was something deeper behind that constant need to start over somewhere else.

Something unsaid.

Something beyond her control.

And that bothered her.

Berkshire was unlike anything Noah had ever known. The city pulsed with life, but there was a strange balance between civilization and forest, as if the two worlds coexisted in silence, without interfering with each other. Wide streets of light–colored stone, old buildings restored with care, and huge trees that seemed to have been rooted there for centuries.

Damon drove with his arm resting on the window, his usual serious expression, but there was a restrained gleam in his eyes when the cabin appeared, hidden among tall pine trees. It was exactly as promised: newly renovated, cozy, discreet.

Noah walked across the wooden porch as if stepping into new territory, and perhaps it was. Everything there seemed clean, organized… stable. For the first time in a long time, it looked like they would stay.

Over the next few days, while Damon learned about the sawmill’s management, Noah explored the surroundings. She walked leisurely through the streets of Berkshire, observing shop windows, people, and voices. Sometimes she sat on park benches or in coffee shops and watched the tangle of threads that connected people. The mixture of colors and feelings, however confusing it was, brought her a sense of calm. Being able to see that even ordinary people are capable of hatred made her feel less… evil.

Noah was older now. She no longer felt like a monster. She knew she could be cruel, but she chose to be good. She reaped the rewards for this over the years. And she gained a clear conscience.

It was on a cloudy morning, with the smell of fresh bread in the air, that she found the pub.

It was a corner building with large arched windows and a dark, almost black, but welcoming facade. The name was written in gold on the glass: Barlow’s. On the board outside, scribbled in chalk, it read: “We are hiring. Come with courage. We’ll teach you the rest.”

She pushed the door open hesitantly, and a little bell tinkled above her head. The smell of coffee, cinnamon, and old leather immediately enveloped her. There was something magical in the air, but not the kind you can see. And she soon found out what it was.

“Finally!“, exclaimed a voice from behind the counter. “I was starting to think the only magic around here was… mine…”

A man, perhaps a few years older than her, appeared with a broad smile, tousled hair, and a sauce–stained apron. She noticed the smile disappear for a second.

“Are you here to apply for a job?”

Noah blinked, a little stunned.

“Maybe. I saw the sign out front… I’m new around here, and…”

“Excellent!“, he came around the counter with more energy than was normal for that time of morning and held out his hand. “My name is Ace. And you?”

“Noah.”

“Noah. I like it. Short and sweet. Perfect, right?”

“Look, I don’t want any trouble, I can leave if—“

“Relax. You’re already halfway there just by having magic. Do you like beer? Or coffee?”

“Beer, no. Coffee… yes.”

“Are you punctual?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have any macabre tattoos or a criminal–type secret?”

She smiled for the first time in days.

“Maybe.”

“Perfect. You’re hired.”

“Ace.” A deep, firm voice echoed from the back of the coffee shop.

Ace turned slowly, grimacing slightly.

“I know, I know. I can’t hire anyone. But you’ll want to meet her, Barlow.”

Barlow emerged from the shadows like someone who made no effort to be noticed, but always was. A tall man with a stoic expression, his arms crossed and a gaze that seemed to see right through you. The gray hair at his temples gave him a respectable air, and the smell of smoke and wood seemed to follow his footsteps.

He stopped in front of her and stared at her for a moment that felt too long.

“What’s your name again?”