~Lyra (Selene)
The infirmary's flickering lanterns cast a warm, amber glow across the rough-hewn stone walls, their light trembling over the cots where wounded warriors lie, their breaths a fragile rhythm against the night's silence. The air is thick with the earthy scent of sage and the metallic tang of blood, a stark contrast to the cedar-and-pine aroma of Blackthorn that seeps into my soul, threatening to betray the disguise I've crafted. I am Selene, the rogue healer, a shadow cast over the omega Lyra who perished in the Frostfang Mountains after Killian's cursed rejection. Yet, beneath the ash-and-wildflower mask my magic weaves, my true essence—cedar and honey—pulses, a secret I guard with every fiber of my being. My silver eyes, concealed beneath lowered lashes, glow faintly as I channel the Moon Goddess's gift, a warm surge of power knitting the torn flesh of a warrior's chest. His groan softens into a sigh of relief, and I pull my hands back, the effort leaving me breathless, my magic a delicate balance between salvation and self-destruction.
I wipe my hands on my cloak, the scar on my cheek prickling with the memory of that night—Killian's voice, cold and final, declaring me too weak, his emerald eyes averted as the seer's curse sealed my exile. Reborn as Selene, I've returned to Blackthorn to shatter him, to reclaim the love he tore from me with his rejection. But my wolf, a traitor to my vengeance, aches for him; her whines are a constant echo in my mind whenever his smoke-and-pine scent drifts near. The mate bond, rekindled in fleeting glances and the brush of his hand in the grove, is a wildfire I can't extinguish, and it burns hottest when I sense him close—too close for my plan to hold.
The door swings open with a creak, and Mara sweeps in, her golden hair cascading like a river of sunlight, her blue eyes narrowed with a venom that could curdle blood. Her jasmine scent floods the room, cloying and artificial, underscored by the soft hum of the enchanted moonstone at her neck—a gift from Torin that fakes her Luna bond with Killian. I've glimpsed it in my visions, her deception, a web she spins to cling to power, and it fuels my resolve to unravel her. She stops beside me, her gaze raking over the warrior I've healed, her lips curling into a sneer. "Another miracle, Selene?" she says, her voice a blade wrapped in silk. "Or is this some witch's spell to ensnare my alpha? I saw you in the grove, your eyes glowing like a cursed beacon. You reek of those violet runes Bloodclaw scatters around."
I rise slowly, meeting her stare, my heart pounding as I fight to tether my magic. "I'm saving your warriors," I reply, my tone steady despite the tempest within. "Unless you'd rather they perish under your so-called leadership, Luna." The word drips with disdain, and my wolf snarls, sensing her threat. But beneath my defiance, a pang of longing stirs—Killian's presence lingers in the room, a ghost of our past love, and the mate bond tugs at me, urging me to seek him out. I clench my fists, the scar on my cheek a burning reminder of his betrayal, anchoring me against the pull.
Mara steps closer, her moonstone pulsing with an unnatural light, amplifying her authority and masking her lie. "Don't play the innocent," she hisses, her breath warm against my face. "You're no healer—you're a witch, a spy for Bloodclaw or that sorcerer Varkis. Killian may be blinded by your wiles, but I'll expose you." Her words sting, but it's the flicker of jealousy in her eyes—fear of losing him to me—that catches me off guard. My wolf whines, drawn to the alpha she still craves, and I force her down, focusing on the warrior's steady breathing as proof of my worth.
"Jealousy doesn't suit you, Mara," I say, my voice low and edged with challenge. "If I wanted Killian, I wouldn't need magic to take him." The words are bold, a taunt to provoke her, but they carry a truth I can't deny—the mate bond yearns for him, a love buried under layers of pain. She laughs, a sharp, brittle sound. "You think you can replace me? He chose me, not some rogue with glowing eyes." Her moonstone flares, and I sense its power, a counterfeit bond that mocks the real connection I share with Killian.
Before I can retort, a vision crashes into me, a torrent of mist and shadow that steals my breath. Varkis stands before me, his gaunt frame cloaked in darkness, his violet eyes piercing my soul. His rune-marked skin glows as he circles a ritual circle, my blood shimmering within it, a key to his immortality across physical and spiritual planes. "Your bloodline is mine, Selene," his voice whispers, chilling and possessive, "the final piece to my eternity." The image shifts to Killian, his emerald eyes dimming under a curse, his hand reaching for me as darkness claims him. My knees buckle, and I grip the cot, gasping, the warrior's concerned grunt pulling me back.
Mara seizes the moment, her voice rising. "See? She's unstable, dangerous! Those fits—proof of her witchcraft! Killian must hear this—your power threatens us all!" She turns to leave, but I lunge forward, my hand catching her arm, my magic tingling at my fingertips. "Wait," I say, my voice low and urgent, "I'm no threat to you—or him. Test me if you doubt me. I'll prove my worth." My defiance is a gamble, a plea to stay close to Killian, to unravel his cursed leadership and Mara's lies. She yanks free, her moonstone flaring, and storms out, her threat a storm cloud on the horizon.
Alone, I sink onto a stool, my hands trembling as the vision of Varkis lingers. His obsession with my prophetic lineage shifts my mission—revenge against Killian is no longer my sole focus. The sorcerer's ritual, tied to my rebirth, threatens us both, and the mate bond complicates everything. My wolf whines again, her longing for Killian an ache I can't ignore. I remember his touch in the grove, the heat of his skin against mine, the way his gold-flecked eyes softened with a hunger that mirrored my own. It was a betrayal of my plan, a spark of the love we once shared, and it terrifies me.
The door opens softly, and Rowan steps in, his lean frame silhouetted against the torchlight, his hazel eyes filled with a cautious curiosity. "You okay, Selene?" he asks, his voice gentle, an echo of the friend who stood by me before my exile. "Mara's riled the pack. She's demanding a meeting—Killian's considering it. They're debating your fate." His concern stirs a flicker of trust, but I nod stiffly, masking my turmoil. "I'll face it," I say, forcing a smile. "I've survived worse." He lingers, his gaze searching, and I wonder if he sees Lyra beneath the disguise.
"Be careful," he adds, his tone softening. "Killian's torn—Mara's pushing him, but he watches you like… like you matter." His words hit me, a reminder of the bond Killian can't fully suppress, and my heart races. "Thanks, Rowan," I murmur, turning away to hide the flush on my cheeks. As he leaves, my mind drifts to Killian. The meeting is a test, a chance to deepen my foothold, but also a risk. If Mara exposes my magic, my revenge—and my life—could end. Yet, the bond pulls me toward him, a magnetic force I can't resist.
I move to the window, the Frostfang Mountains shrouded in mist beyond the stronghold, their peaks a silent witness to my past. The night is quiet, but my vision of Varkis returns, his violet eyes locking with mine, his promise of eternity chilling my blood. I need to warn Killian, to protect him from this threat, but not as Lyra—not yet. The risk is too great, and my heart, still raw from his rejection, isn't ready to trust him. Yet, the memory of his touch, the warmth of his gaze, lingers, a promise of what might have been. My wolf howls softly, urging me to seek him, to let the bond guide us back to each other.
The door creaks again, and I turn, expecting Darius, but it's Killian. His presence fills the room, his muscular frame tense, his emerald eyes glowing with a mix of suspicion and a longing that steals my breath. My heart stutters, the mate bond flaring, and I step back, my magic trembling. "Alpha," I say, my voice barely steady, "I thought you'd be with the pack."
He closes the distance, his scent enveloping me, a heady mix of smoke and pine that stirs memories of stolen kisses under the moon. "I needed to see you," he says, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down my spine. "Mara's claims—they unsettle me, but my wolf… he knows you. Tell me the truth, Selene. Who are you?" His hand hovers near mine, the air between us crackling with unspoken desire, and my wolf surges, desperate to close the gap.
"I'm a healer," I whisper, the lie tasting bitter, my voice softening with the memory of his arms around me. "Nothing more." But my eyes betray me, glistening with unshed tears, and he steps closer, his breath warm against my cheek. "You're more," he murmurs, his hand brushing mine, sending a jolt through me. "I feel it—a pull I can't ignore. My wolf claims you, Selene, and I… I want to believe it." His words are a confession, an echo of the love we shared, and my wolf howls, urging me to yield.
"Killian," I breathe, his name a surrender on my lips, and for a moment, we stand suspended, the mate bond a bridge between past and present. His hand slides up my arm, tentative but possessive, and my magic falters, my eyes glowing silver before I douse them. "I can't," I say, pulling back, my heart breaking anew. "You rejected me once—how can I trust you now?" The scar on my cheek burns, a testament to his curse, and he flinches, guilt shadowing his gaze.
"I was cursed," he says, his voice raw. "A seer forced my hand to save Blackthorn, to lift the blood curse. I didn't know it was you, Lyra—I swear it." The revelation stuns me, the weight of his words crashing over me like a wave. My wolf whines, torn between rage and longing, and I step back, my mind reeling. "Prove it," I challenge, my voice trembling. "Break that curse, and maybe I'll believe you."
He nods, his eyes intense. "I will," he vows, his hand lingering in the air between us. "But first, we face Mara. I've ordered a pack meeting—your trial begins tomorrow. Stay strong, Selene." His use of my alias is a shield, but the tenderness in his tone unravels me. He turns to leave, but pauses at the door. "I lost you once," he says, his voice breaking. "I won't lose you again." The door closes, and I collapse against the wall, tears streaming down my face, the mate bond a lifeline I can't sever.
The vision of Varkis returns, his violet eyes piercing the mist, his ritual circle glowing with my blood. "Your bloodline is mine," he whispers, and the suspense tightens my chest. I must warn Killian, but as Lyra, the risk is immense. The meeting looms, a crucible where my disguise, my revenge, and my love will be tested. My wolf howls, urging me to trust him, and for the first time, I wonder if vengeance can coexist with the love that refuses to die.
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