The night air shimmered faintly, heavy with the scent of rain and wild magic. Lyra stood at the edge of a cliff, staring down at the valley below — her former home. The Crescent Moon Pack slept peacefully, unaware that the ghost they buried beneath the storm had returned.
A strange pull guided her here tonight. Her heart raced in rhythm with the wind, and her wolf stirred restlessly.
"The Blood Moon rises soon," the voice inside her whispered — Selene's calm, melodic tone.
"With it, balance must be restored."
Lyra's gaze lifted to the horizon. Clouds shifted, revealing a pale sliver of red glowing within the moon. It wasn't supposed to appear for weeks — yet the sky bled early, an omen of change.
Something was coming.
She flexed her fingers, feeling the flicker of energy dance across her skin. Her magic pulsed stronger with each heartbeat — her control improving, but barely.
"You sense it too," she murmured to the air.
From the shadows behind her, a soft chuckle answered.
"I was wondering how long it'd take you to notice me."
Lyra spun, eyes flashing silver. The man who emerged from the trees wore dark leather armor and a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. Damon Raine — Alpha of the rival Ironclaw Pack.
He had always been dangerous, even before she disappeared. His wolf radiated dominance and arrogance, but tonight, there was something else in his gaze — curiosity.
"Lyra Hale," he said slowly, his tone half-teasing, half-reverent. "The dead omega returns. I thought the stories were lies."
Lyra didn't move. "They usually are."
He took a step closer, inhaling her scent. His expression changed — confusion flickered across his face. "You're… different. Not wolf, not witch. What are you?"
"Something you shouldn't test," she said evenly.
Damon smirked. "Oh, I like tests."
Before he could blink, a surge of silver light erupted between them. Damon staggered back, his arm seared by the magic that burst from her hand. His growl filled the clearing, but Lyra didn't flinch.
"I didn't come to fight," she said coolly. "But if you want to die before sunrise, I won't stop you."
He stared at her, clutching his burned arm — then laughed softly. "The rumors didn't do you justice. The Crescent Moon Alpha made a mistake rejecting you."
Her jaw tightened. "That mistake will cost him everything."
Damon's smile faded. "Careful, Lyra. The Blood Moon doesn't just empower witches. It awakens old curses. Whatever you've become, it's bound to draw attention — not all of it friendly."
The wind howled between them.
Lyra turned back toward the valley, eyes hard. "Let them come."
Lightning flashed in the distance, splitting the sky in crimson light. The first drop of rain hit her cheek, warm and metallic — like blood.
Behind her, Damon's voice was low. "Then you'll need allies."
Lyra's gaze didn't shift. "Allies die. I survive."
And with that, she vanished into the storm, her scent dissolving into the night.
Far below, the Crescent Moon Pack stirred uneasily in their sleep. Wolves whimpered in their dens, and even the elders woke with dread.
The Blood Moon had risen early — and somewhere in the darkness, the goddess Selene whispered:
"The balance has begun to shift."