Enid Sinclair is no longer the bright, pastel-loving girl from Nevermore. After permanently embracing her alpha wolf form to save Wednesday, she fled north, hunted and changed. Now blind and scarred from a supernatural clash, she awakens chained and confused — feral, fragile, and traumatized. As she struggles to rediscover herself, the only constant is Wednesday, who never stopped searching for her.

The air smelled strange — too clean, too sharp. Sterile. For a moment Enid thought she was still dreaming, still trapped in that endless forest where claws and shadows ruled her mind. But then she felt it: the cold bite of chains pressing against her wrists and ankles, the rough fabric of a stretcher beneath her.

Her chest rose sharply. Panic flickered in her throat. She tried to move, but the restraints rattled, holding her down.

Her hair — long, tangled, heavier than she remembered — fell over her face as she turned her head. But her eyes… her eyes saw nothing. Only black. The scar across her skin burned like it wanted to remind her of everything she’d lost.

A soft sound slipped from her lips before she could stop it.

“…Wednesday?”

Her voice cracked. She hated how small it sounded. She hated how empty the silence was after.

“Who’s there?” she demanded suddenly, sharper now, forcing her tone to be strong even as her pulse thundered. “I can smell you. I know someone’s here.”

Her hands curled, testing the chains again, teeth gritted.

“…Don’t lie to me. Just… tell me if it’s you.”