Lyra's POV
The moon hung low over Silverfang territory that night, veiled behind a curtain of smoke-gray clouds.
The air was too still for a full-moon evening too heavy, as though the forest itself sensed what was coming.
I remember standing barefoot on the veranda of our packhouse, the cool wood pressing against my toes while the faint scent of rain drifted through the air. Father always said the moon was the goddess's eye watching, judging, blessing.
But that night, her eye felt closed.
"Lyra, come inside before you catch cold."
Mother's voice floated through the open doors, warm and commanding all at once. She was everything an Alpha Luna should be graceful yet fierce. Her long auburn hair was tied back, her eyes glowing faintly gold even in human form.
I turned toward her, clutching the small silver pendant my brother had given me earlier that day a tiny wolf etched into the center.
"I'm not cold," I whispered. "It feels different tonight."
Mother's gaze softened. She crouched, the hem of her black gown brushing the floor as she cupped my face in her hands.
"That's your instincts growing stronger, my little moon," she said gently. "You're feeling what the pack feels."
At nine years old, I didn't yet understand the weight of what that meant. The Silverfang Pack had been one of the strongest in the northern territories a name spoken with respect and fear.
My father, Alpha Tristan Hale, ruled with balance firm when he had to be, merciful when he chose to be. And my brother, Theo, his heir, was already a prodigy at sixteen strong, calm, protective.
Theo appeared just then, stepping onto the veranda behind Mother. He was tall already, his hair dark like Father's, his eyes carrying that same quiet fire. He tossed me a teasing grin.
"Still spying on the moon, pup?"
I stuck my tongue out. "Not spying. She's just... quiet tonight."
Theo frowned faintly. "Quiet's not always good."
Before Mother could scold him for dark talk, a howl echoed from somewhere beyond the treeline sharp, high, wrong. It wasn't the joyful call of patrol wolves returning home. It was alarm.
Mother stiffened. Theo's hand went to the dagger at his side.
Then came the smell. Smoke. Iron. Blood.
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Lyra's POV
The first howl still lingered in the air, but the silence that followed was worse. It wasn't the kind of quiet that comforted it was the kind that made your chest feel hollow, as if the world was holding its breath.
Theo's fingers tightened around the hilt of his dagger. Mother's golden eyes flickered toward the treeline.
"Stay here," she whispered. "Both of you."
She was gone a second later, her form blurring as she shifted one heartbeat she was human, the next she was a sleek russet wolf vanishing into the mist beyond the gardens.
Theo and I stood frozen on the veranda, the scent of smoke growing stronger. I reached out and grabbed his sleeve.
"Theo… what's happening?"
He didn't answer right away. The muscles in his jaw flexed, his eyes flickering between human brown and wolf gold.
Finally, he crouched in front of me, his expression softer than his voice.
"You remember what Father told you, right? If the pack's ever in danger, you run south. You find the Riverbend Pack. You tell them who you are."
I frowned. "But Father said that's only if"
"Lyra."
His voice cracked for the first time. "If anything happens, you promise me you'll run. Promise."
My throat tightened. "But you'll come, too?"
He gave me a small, crooked smile. "Of course I will. You think I'd let you get all the adventure?"
It was a lie I knew it even then. His eyes said otherwise.
Before I could argue, the air around us seemed to shift. It was faint, but I felt it a pulse, like something deep in the earth had stirred and was calling to me. My chest ached suddenly, a strange, steady thrum beneath my ribs that didn't belong to fear.
I looked up at the moon, and for a heartbeat, everything else fell away.
The clouds parted, and moonlight broke through, spilling silver across the forest. And there far away, so faint it could have been imagined I felt a second heartbeat align with mine. Not Father's, not Theo's. Someone else's.
A flicker of warmth and pull, like the bond of a string drawn between two souls. It terrified me.
"Lyra?"
Theo's voice snapped me back. "Lyra, what is it?"
"I… don't know," I whispered. "Someone's"
A scream cut through the night. A man's voice. One of our sentries.
Then another howl this time closer, darker, and laced with killing intent.
Theo rose in a flash, yanking me toward the doors. "Inside. Now!"
We ran through the halls, our bare feet echoing against marble floors. Shouts erupted in the distance guards, warriors, orders. The walls themselves seemed to tremble.
Father appeared at the end of the corridor, already half-shifted. His chest was bare, his eyes burning molten gold. Blood streaked his shoulder, but his presence filled the hall like thunder.
"Theo, take your sister and go!"
Theo shook his head. "I can fight!"
"Not tonight!" Father's roar shook the air. "Go!"
For one second, they locked eyes Alpha and heir, father and son.
Then Theo grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the servant tunnels at the back of the manor.
I looked over my shoulder as we ran. Father turned toward the courtyard, and through the windows, I saw it the forest beyond our lands burning red.
Wolves clashed in the flames, their snarls like the sound of tearing steel.
And among them, I saw something that made my blood run cold.
Our banners. Our warriors.
Fighting each other.