~LYRA'S POV~
"Up, you lazy human slave!" came Meredith, my stepmother's voice, followed by the shock of ice-cold water hitting me like a slap, jolting me from the only peace I knew… sleep.
"Work waits while you dream of a life you'll never have!" She hissed, eyeing me from head to toe in disgust.
I scrambled to my feet, filthy water dripping from my hair, soaking through the thin blanket on my straw bed. My stepmother stood in the doorway of my cramped hut, arms crossed, her lips twisted in that familiar sneer.
"Look at her," came Marcus's voice from behind her. My stepbrother pushed past Meredith, his seventeen-year-old frame already broader than mine would ever be.
"Soaked like a drowned rat. Maybe now she'll smell better."
Seraphina giggled from somewhere in the shadows. "Doubtful. Nothing can fix that stench of worthlessness."
I wrung out my sleeping shirt, trying to ignore the way the wet fabric clung to my skin. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear…"
"Sorry don't scrub floors," Meredith snapped, tossing the empty bucket at my feet. It clattered against the wooden planks. "Or have you forgotten what day it is?"
How could I forget? Today was my eighteenth birthday. The day I might finally shift.
"Well?" Marcus folded his arms. "Feeling wolfish yet? Or are you still the same pathetic waste of space?" He scoffed. "Like the Moon Goddess would waste a wolf on her."
"Please," Seraphina added, stepping into view. At sixteen, she already carried herself with the confidence of someone who'd shifted at fourteen. "Look at her. Scrawny, weak, pathetic. Even the Goddess has standards."
"Give her time," Meredith said with no real reproach in her tone. "Maybe the Moon Goddess is just running late. Very, very late."
I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood, keeping my eyes down as I wrung out my sleeping shirt. Four years since my father died. Four years of this.. Inhumane treatment.
"The packhouse needs cleaning before tonight's ceremony," Meredith said, tossing the empty bucket at my feet. "And if I hear one complaint about your work..."
She didn't need to finish. We both knew what would happen.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Oh, and Lyra?" Meredith's voice dropped to that dangerous whisper. "Don't get your hopes up about tonight. The Moon Goddess doesn't waste gifts on girls like you."
They left laughing, heading toward the main house for the breakfast I'd prepared before dawn… a breakfast I wouldn't be allowed to share.
—
The day crawled by in a blur of scrubbing floors and dodging cruel comments. By the time the sun began to set, my hands were raw and my body ached, but none of that mattered.
Tonight, everything could change.
The pack gathered at the ceremonial grounds as darkness fell. Alpha Morrison stood at the centre of the sacred circle, his presence commanding, while Luna Celeste stood beside him with an unreadable expression.
Pack members formed a loose ring around the clearing; some were curious, others already smirking.
I spotted James near the back. He gave me an encouraging nod, one of the few kindnesses I'd received all day.
"Lyra Howlington," Alpha Morrison called. "Step forward."
My legs trembled, but I walked to the centre of the circle, feeling dozens of eyes on me.
"Tonight marks your eighteenth birthday," the Alpha continued. "The night when the Moon Goddess traditionally grants her children the gift of their wolf. Do you come before this pack ready to accept her blessing?"
"Yes, Alpha." My voice came out stronger than I felt.
"Then let us begin."
I closed my eyes and reached deep inside myself, trying to find that wild spark, that connection to something bigger. The pack stood around me, silent at first, then quietly whispering as nothing happened.
"Moon Goddess," I whispered, so quietly only I could hear. "Please. I'm begging you. Don't let me be alone."
I tried harder, concentrating until sweat beaded on my forehead. Minutes passed, but my body remained stubbornly human.
"Well?" Marcus's voice rang out. "Are we going to be here all night?"
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
"Give her time," Alpha Morrison said, but even his voice had lost its earlier conviction.
"Sometimes the Goddess works slowly."
More minutes passed, and the whispers grew louder.
"She's human."
"I knew it."
"Look at her, standing there like she actually thought…"
"Enough." The Alpha's command silenced the chatter. He looked at me, and I saw something in his eyes that hurt worse than any of Meredith's punishments: pity. "Lyra, step back."
I opened my eyes, vision blurring with tears I refused to let fall. The pack stared at me; some disappointed, others satisfied, all of them confirming what I'd feared my entire life.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, though I wasn't sure who I was apologising to… the pack, the Alpha, or the Moon Goddess herself.
"The Moon Goddess has made her will known," Alpha Morrison announced. "Lyra Howlington will remain human."
The words hit like a death sentence.
"What a waste of your father's name," Derek scoffed from somewhere in the crowd.
I wanted to disappear, to sink into the earth and never resurface. "Can I... can I go now?" I whispered.
The Alpha nodded. "You may go."
I walked through the parting crowd, their whispers following me like ghosts: Worthless. Forsaken. Human trash.
Each word was a nail in a coffin I'd been building my entire life. I was officially an outcast now, permanently separate from the pack I'd hoped to join.
Back at the hut, I collapsed on my straw bed and finally let the tears come. They'd been right. all of them. Meredith, Marcus, Seraphina, and everyone who'd ever called me worthless. The Moon Goddess herself had looked at me and found me wanting.
I cried until my throat was raw, until the tears ran dry and left only a hollow ache in my chest.
That's when I heard my father's voice in my memory, something he used to tell me when I was small: "Sometimes, little wolf, the bravest thing you can do is walk away."
I'd never been his little wolf. But maybe, just maybe, I could be brave.
I sat up slowly, wiping my face with trembling hands. What did I have left to lose? Another day of Meredith's cruelty? Another year of being the pack's punching bag? A lifetime of this?
No.
I gathered my few possessions: my mother's tattered shawl, a crust of hidden bread, and the small knife my father had given me for my tenth birthday. Everything I owned fit in my pockets.
"I'm sorry, Dad," I whispered to the darkness. "I can't stay here anymore."
The forest stretched out in front of me, dark and filled with hidden dangers. But honestly, it couldn't be worse than what I was escaping from. Nothing could be worse than this.
So I ran.
My feet hit the earth and I ran like I'd never run before, branches whipping at my face, roots trying to trip me, rocks cutting into my soles.
But I didn't stop. Behind me lay eighteen years of pain and servitude. Ahead lay uncertainty, but it was my uncertainty, my choice, my life.
For the first time in four years, I felt something other than despair; I felt free.
I wasn't sure how long I had been running when I suddenly heard them, footsteps behind me, fast and predatory. Not the controlled pace of pack wolves, but something wilder. Hungrier.
I'm not sure how long I'd been running when I suddenly heard them: quick, hungry footsteps right behind me. They weren't the steady rhythm of a wolf pack hunting; this was wilder… more desperate.
Rogues.