The dust made me sneeze. I wiped my nose with the back of my hand and stared at the old wooden chest in the corner of my mother's closet. It had been there for ten years, ever since she died. Ten years since my father sealed it shut with a padlock and forbade me from opening it.

But tonight felt different. The lock wasn't rusted anymore. When I touched it, it crumbled as if it had been waiting for me.

Click.

My fingers trembled as I lifted the heavy lid. The scent of lavender and old paper hit my face. I closed my eyes, imagining it was her perfume, pretending she was behind me, running her hands through my curly black hair as she used to. But when I opened my eyes, only dust and memories remained.

And a letter.

It lay atop faded photographs and silver jewelry I'd never seen before. The envelope was yellowed, almost brown at the edges. My name, "Elif," was written on the front in my mother's handwriting. Not "My Dear Elif," or "To My Daughter," just my name, as if she knew I would find it precisely on this night.

I carefully pulled the letter out. The paper crackled under my fingers. Three pages, dated eight months before she died.

Then I began to read.

"Kızım,"

I heard her voice in my head, soft and warm, the way she said "my daughter" in Turkish, as if the word were made of honey.

"If you are reading this, it means your blood has awakened. You are eighteen now, or close to it. And you have started to feel things you cannot explain. The dreams of running through forests. The strange calm you feel during full moons. The way animals look at you like they know a secret.

I am sorry I am not there to tell you this myself.

You are not ordinary, Elif. You never were. And neither was I.

I come from a line of women who carry something rare in this world. The old ones call it 'The Balancer.' The wolves call it 'The Human Heart.' You have the power to calm the rage inside werewolves. To silence the beast when it wants to tear everything apart.

Yes. Werewolves are real.

And they will come for you.

That is why I left Istanbul. That is why I married your father, a simple man who knew nothing of my past. I wanted to protect you. To give you a normal life.

But the blood always wakes up.

There is a place called Nordlicht Academy. It is hidden in the mountains of Norway, where the Northern Lights paint the sky every night. It is a school for young werewolves from the strongest bloodlines in the world. And once every generation, they accept a human like you.

Go there. Learn what you are. Find the three alphas who will need you more than they know.

But listen to me carefully, my daughter.

Tell no one what you truly are. Not until you are ready. The wolves are proud and dangerous. They will either worship you or destroy you. Make them earn your trust.

I love you. I have always loved you. And I am watching from wherever the moon takes us.

Your mother,

Sibel Demir"

I read the letter three times. Then a fourth. Then I dropped it on the floor, my hands shaking too much to hold it. Werewolves? Werewolves? My mother had lost her mind. That was the only explanation. The cancer must have spread to her brain before she died, and she'd written this in some delusional fever dream. Yes, that had to be it.

I laughed, a broken, hollow sound. "I'm not crazy," I whispered to the empty room. "She was crazy. There's a difference."

I stood and walked to the mirror above her old dresser. The same face I'd always seen. Black curly hair falling past my shoulders. Hazel eyes that looked more green than brown in this light. Round cheeks. Full lips. The same nose I'd hated since I was twelve. Nothing special. Nothing supernatural.

But then I looked at my palm. And my heart stopped.