Lyanna didn't wait for a third taunt. She dropped into a defensive stance, raising her fists.
She had never been in a fight in her life—the most physical exertion she'd ever had was trying to jump on her two feets—but the instinct to protect herself was suddenly overwhelming.
"Come out and fight me!" she yelled. "Stop acting like a coward and show yourself!"
A peal of dry, mocking laughter rang out. "You really are a fool. Don't you realize my voice is coming from inside your own head? How can a human be so incredibly silly?"
Lyanna froze. She lowered her hands slowly, the realization dawning on her.
The sound wasn't vibrating through her eardrums; it was resonating within her consciousness. The panic didn't leave; it just changed shape.
"Who are you?" she hissed. "How did you get in there? Did I develop a split personality because of the fall? Is this some kind of post-traumatic psychosis?"
"Split personality? What on earth is that?" the voice sounded genuinely confused for a second, but then it brushed the question aside with an air of immense pride.
"I am your wolf, of course. I can talk to you directly because we are one and the same."
Lyanna stopped breathing for a moment. She remembered the novel's she had read now.
In this kind of world, shifters had an internal dialogue with their animal half.
But something was wrong. According to the memories she had inherited, the previous Lyanna's wolf—a creature named Caela—was a silent, trembling thing.
Caela was so ashamed of her small stature and weak presence that she had almost never spoken.
She was a coward, a reflection of the girl she inhabited.
This voice, however, sounded like it belonged to a queen. It was bold, arrogant, and entirely too loud.
"Wait," Lyanna said, her suspicion growing. "Aren't you supposed to be ashamed of yourself? Aren't you supposed to be tiny and quiet?"
"Why on earth would I be ashamed?" the wolf replied, her tone dripping with offense.
"I am powerful. I am magnificent. Why would I ever have a small presence?"
"Because the previous Lyanna's memory says so," Lyanna argued. "She said her wolf was a presence of ridicule in the pack. She said her wolf was a coward. So, what changed?"
"I certainly don't know what you're talking about," the wolf said dismissively.
"I only gained sentience about five minutes ago. I came from you, from your soul. I don't know any 'previous Lyanna,' and I certainly don't care about her memories."
Lyanna furrowed her brow, her mind racing. "Is your name not Caela?"
"I don't know who the fuck that is," the wolf snapped. "My name is Nyx."
A slow, brilliant smile spread across Lyanna's face. It was a realization that changed everything.
When the original Lyanna died, her weak, timid wolf must have died with her.
And when the new Lyanna arrived from 2026, she had brought a new soul with her—a soul that had generated a brand-new, powerful wolf. Nyx wasn't a remnant of the old life; she was a product of the new one.
Lyanna laughed, a genuine, lighthearted sound.
The thought of having a powerful partner in her head made her feel like she could actually handle this world.
Her smile was so bright it seemed to illuminate the dark stone room like a beam of sunshine.
At that exact moment, the heavy door swung open.
A man stepped into the room. He was towering, his presence so heavy it felt like the air pressure in the room had suddenly changed.
He was brooding, with sharp, masculine features and eyes that looked like they could cut through stone.
He was, quite frankly, the most handsome man Lyanna had ever seen in either of her lives.
He stopped in his tracks, his eyebrows shooting up in visible shock.
This was Cedric Nightbane, the Alpha of the Blackwood pack.
He looked at Lyanna, seeing her standing there, glowing with health and wearing a smile that looked like it belonged on a woman who didn't have a care in the world.
To him, it must have looked like a hallucination. In what universe would his terrified, suicidal wife greet him with a radiant grin?
Before Lyanna could process his arrival, a woman followed him into the room.
The moment Lyanna laid eyes on her, a wave of pure, instinctive hatred washed over her.
The woman was dressed in a way that could only be described as predatory.
Despite the medieval setting, her gown was cut so low that her breasts were nearly spilling out, and a slit ran so high up her leg that Lyanna could see her entire thigh.
It was a blatant display of sexuality that seemed completely out of place for a "pious" healer.
But it was the face that really did it. The woman had an innocent, wide-eyed expression, the kind of face that looked like it wouldn't hurt a fly.
It was a mask of purity that Lyanna recognized instantly. This was Avelina Woodcrest. She was the personification of a "two-faced bitch."
Lyanna felt a surge of indignation. The maids had actually said this woman was more beautiful than her? Lyanna wanted to find those two girls and hand them a pair of glasses.
Avelina was attractive in a vulgar way, but her face didn't match her body.
She was a walking contradiction, a wolf in sheep's clothing—though in this world, that was probably more than just a metaphor.
Lyanna didn't let her gaze linger on Avelina for long. Her eyes were drawn back to Cedric.
Up close, his handsomeness was devastating.
The previous Lyanna must have been truly broken to find this man terrifying. He wasn't just handsome; he was magnetic.
As their eyes locked, Lyanna felt a sudden, violent pull in her chest.
It was a physical sensation, like a golden thread was being tightened between her heart and his.
She felt an overwhelming urge to run to him, to bury her face in his neck, to stay in his orbit forever.
It was a feeling of completion, as if her entire twenty-three years of suffering had just been a waiting room for this exact second.
She was still reeling from the intensity of the emotion when Nyx's voice rang out in her head, breathless and commanding.
"Mate."