Rain hammered the tin roof of the rundown foster home in East Vale, a forgotten edge of the city that smelled of rust, damp earth, and broken dreams. Lyra Wynne sat cross-legged on the threadbare mattress, clutching her tattered notebook to her chest. Another birthday, another reminder — she was still no one. No parents. No pack. No future.
The other foster kids whispered about her. Cursed. Weird. Trouble. She didn't blame them. Strange things happened when she was upset. Lightbulbs shattered. Wind howled in closed rooms. Once, a boy's nose broke without her touching him. Her caseworkers never stayed long. And neither did the homes.
She turned eighteen today. Legal. Free. Alone.
But as the clock struck midnight, a sharp knock echoed through the walls. Not the angry thud of a caseworker or a cop. This knock carried presence.
Lyra padded barefoot to the door, the cold floor grounding her as lightning flashed across the cracked windows. She opened it to find an old man cloaked in black standing beneath the pouring rain. His silver hair clung to his face, and his golden eyes glowed faintly.
"Lyra Wynne?" he asked, his voice steady like stone.
She hesitated. "Who's asking?"
He bowed slightly. "Elder Caelan of the Nightclaw Pack. I've come to take you home."
Lyra blinked. "What pack?"
His eyes narrowed. "The one you belong to."
Her heart stuttered. She didn't belong anywhere. She never had.
But Caelan stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, and the moment he did, the air changed. The silence grew dense, electric, as if the world recognized her in his presence.
"You felt it too," he said quietly. "The calling. The power in your blood."
"What power?"
Caelan studied her like one might a sleeping weapon. "The Moon Blessed Alpha line was not wiped out. You survived."
Lyra's breath caught. She had no idea what he meant, only that for the first time, someone wasn't looking through her. He was looking at her.
"Come with me," he said, offering his hand. "Tonight, your true life begins."
She stared at his hand. At the rain outside. At the shack she never wanted to return to again.
And she stepped into the storm.