Lyra
As Lyra rushed through the village, smoke’s acrid bite stung her nostrils. Homes smoldered. Everything was in ruins.
She scrambled through collapsing buildings looking for signs of life. But the streets were vacant, eerie silence weaving through the heat. Then, a faint cry near the old well drew her attention.
Aunt Maris lay on the ground. Blood stained her clothes. When she heard Lyra approach, her eyes fluttered open. Maris smiled weakly as she kneeled beside her.
The cold, damp ground sent a shiver through her, the metallic scent of blood making her stomach twist. Warmth faded from Maris’s hand as Lyra gripped it in her own.
“Aunt Maris!” She blurted, trying to stop the bleeding pooling beneath her.
Maris’s chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths. Lips tinged blue.
“Lyra…” Maris gasped, her dull gaze filled with love.
Lyra’s heart throbbed in anguish. “Don’t talk. Save your strength,” she pleaded.
Maris’s fingers twitched in Lyra’s grasp. “They took them…” she sputtered, “Your father… Selene and Seraphina... They’re prisoners now.”
Prisoners? Images of her father’s stern face, Selene’s cold eyes, and Seraphina’s cruel smirk flashed through her head. Lyra sighed, a knot releasing in her chest.
Relief? Am I really relieved?
Maris coughed weakly and blood spurted up from her mouth. “I… I’m not long for this world.”
“No!” Lyra cried, her voice cracking with desperation. She stood. “I’ll find help!” She spun around, calling, “Someone—anyone! Help!”
But Maris spoke weakly. “No time... little wolf...”
Lyra froze. Little wolf. It was her aunts’ affectionate term for her. But it felt like so much more now. What did Maris see? Could she ever live up to it?
“It’s up to you, Only you…” Maris's hoarse whisper faded as a cold sweat broke out across Lyra’s back.
Me? Her heart thudded in her chest, shaking her head in disbelief. I am nothing. An exile.Maris’s breath grew more ragged, her body convulsed. She grimaced.
“Kyline…” Maris whispered. “She’s… she’s with Alpha Veyron. You must find her.”
The words didn’t make sense. Kyline... with him? He led the attack—why would she...?”
“What does that mean?” Lyra asked.
Maris’s grip tightened. “She’ll help you,” Maris rasped, “But the Alpha… you’ll need him… You have to save them, Lyra.”
“Save who?” Lyra asked. “My family?”
Her heart beat heavier, enveloping her in panic. She had no power, no pack—only her broken heart and Maris’s dying plea. How could she face an army with nothing?
“You have to. The moon… wanes... goddess awakens...”
“I don’t understand,” Lyra’s voice cracked, each syllable harder to form as tears ran down her cheeks.
Maris barely nodded, her grip weak but insistent. “The power… it’s in you, Lyra. The world… chaos, rebirth.”
Lyra trembled as she cupped her aunt’s face, slick with tears.
“I wish I could’ve done more for you, Lyra…” Maris’s smile grew faint. “You’re braver than me... You’ll need that strength.”
“Don’t go. Please, don’t leave me.”
She pressed her forehead to Maris’s, trying to hold on to what little was left of her. Maris’s body grew unnaturally cold, and her breathing ceased. Lyra screamed, her misery echoing through the desolation.
****
Lyra rushed through the forest, worn boots crushing emerald moss and scattering wildflowers. Bird song faded into the hum of insects.
She had to go. Had to find Kyline.
At the edge of a crumbling outpost, stones veined with moss, Lyra stopped to breathe.There was something ancient about this place that she couldn't explain.
Voices carried through the trees. Alpha Veyron’s patrols. Heart racing, she darted into the shadows of the ruin, pushing against the cold stone wall, as their footsteps grew closer.
The soldiers would attack first and ask questions later. They wouldn’t listen. She was a threat to be eliminated.
Lyra grazed the rough-hewn stones, finding irregular grooves etched into its surface. She turned to look.
Faded sigils were carved, words half-obscured by time, but still legible enough to send chills down her spine.
When the moon grows dark, the Luna Stone bound to its heart, the goddess shall awaken…
The goddess awakens... Maris’s last words haunted her.
It reminded her of fairy tales Kyline would tell her at bedtime. Just Fantasy. Right?
Lyra followed the words with her palm, feeling an arcane pulse beneath the surface.
... a new age will begin...
What did it mean? She brushed the moss aside to read the next line, so faint she could barely make any of it out:
...time of chaos… or ruin… She shall decide… Destroy the world.
She gasped as the words ran through her mind, “The power… it’s in you, Lyra. The world… chaos, rebirth...”
Goosebumps tingled along her arms, and she jerked her hand back.
An end, a beginning... and a power tied to her.
She stumbled back, and collided into something solid and unmoving. Molten panic ran through her veins as she whipped around. A patrolman loomed over her, eyes wide with surprise.
Everything blurred. With a final, desperate inhale, her vision went black, and she crumpled into unconsciousness.
LyraThe ground fractured. Dark clouds spiraled in a vicious storm. Buildings cracked and crumbled beneath the force of the wind, stones tumbling into the abyss. The scent of smoke and ash smothered everything except the howls of the wind. The world was splintering.Through the chaos, she saw a man. A tall pillar of strength amidst the collapse. His arms raised, body straining. He held the line between destruction and salvation. Their eyes met. Quiet desperation marked his features, restraining something far darker than the storm. A tense understanding neither fully grasped passed between them.Lyra’s heart beat a fierce staccato. Darkness grew, engulfing the realm, and sweeping away her father, stepsister, and stepmother. Silence swallowed Lyra’s screams.The storm’s center drew her forward. Despite the blinding glow, she couldn't look away. In the chaos’s nexus, a woman stood, obscured by the brilliance that radiated from her. But her power was undeniable. The Moon Goddess…As the
Veyron Vast stone walls enclosed the throne room, amplifying every breath. High ceilings disappeared into shadows. A massive tapestry hung behind the throne, depicting a wolf under a blood-red moon. Its eyes, glowing like embers, tracked every movement with chilling precision.Guards in polished black armor stood at rigid attention. Their faces were impassive, but their eyes betrayed unease. At the foot of the raised dais, disheveled captives knelt, their heads bowed low. Their clothing was torn, stained with the gore of battle. Chains hung from their wrists.The doors groaned open, reverberating through the chamber. The captives flinched, gazes dropping lower, some squeezing their eyes shut in a futile attempt to make themselves invisible.Veyron entered, dark titanium hair framing the jagged scar that carved across his brow, nose, and jawline. The cloak over his brawny shoulders swayed, whispering like shadows come to life. The scent of leather, iron, and blood carried the reminder
LyraIn the morning, Lyra and Kyline left on horseback. The greenwood Lyra had known her entire life gave way to deep, fertile topsoil. Trees thinned until they were little more than scattered clusters on the horizon. Tall, golden grass swayed in the ever constant wind, stretching endlessly before her, the horizon broken only by distant hills. Seeing Lyra shiver, Kyline handed her her cloak.The magic in the air shifted as they crossed the boundary into another alpha’s territory, forsaking the familiar hum of home. It felt like an unseen predator watching, warning her she was unwelcome.Kyline and Lyra exchanged only a few words throughout the day, small comforts about shared loss and reassurances that Lyra wasn’t alone. Lyra clung onto her Aunt’s kindness, but it couldn’t drown out her thoughts or Aunt Maris’s final words, tangling with her dream.Kyline wouldn’t answer her questions about the plan. “Not yet,” her aunt assured her every time. “There’s no use worrying until it’s time.
LyraInside the Den’s office, a trace of lavender tempered the otherwise austere space. The den was what they called Alpha Veyron’s home. A sprawling fortress carving strength and primal elegance into the heart of the grasslands. The three storied structure, built from dark timber and reinforced stone, embodied the raw power of the wolves who ruled this territory. While it was large enough to house the pack, only those who served within its walls chose to make it their home. Instead of sharing quarters, most of Alpha Veyron’s people chose to move into their own houses. Such distance between pack members was strange. But if their alpha was as domineering as she’d heard, it was no wonder his pack didn’t want to be near him.Behind a large wooden desk, worn and polished to a near mirror-like sheen, the Keeper of the Den examined Lyra with a gaze that could pierce armor, white streaks ran through her dark braid.“Do you know,” the Keeper began, her voice smooth yet cold, “what happened t
LyraThe shared maid quarters were a chaotic swirl of movement as the maids rushed around preparing for the Alpha’s arrival. Lyra sat on the edge of her cot, straightening her new dress and trying to ensure every crease was perfect.The anticipation and friendly competition amongst them was undeniable. Lyra hadn’t said a word, simply observing, trying to stay out of the way.This would be her chance to finally belong somewhere, and make herself useful. As a maid, she could earn trust, and discover what she truly needed to know, what Aunt Kyline sent her here for.A knock on the door made her pause. The girls froze, wide eyes darting to each other. The single, confident knock came again before the door swung open. The other’s faces paled with recognition. Lyra's breath caught as she saw her for the first time. The Mistress of Shadows filled the doorway. Her black hair, sleek and straight, fell to her shoulders in a glossy wave. A long, delicate hand rested on the doorframe, slender fi
VeyronVeyron entered his chambers. Eryx restlessly pacing his mind."Finally," Eryx growled. "The stench of fools lingers. Strip it away."Veyron ignored the beast’s impatience, focusing on removing his pauldrons. The gilded metal, scuffed with marks of combat, clattered onto the nearby table. Piece by piece, the rest of his armor followed, revealing the taut, scarred flesh beneath.From a side chamber, the Mistress of Shadows entered without announcement. She swayed up to Veyron with unspoken authority, her dark eyes gleaming with cunning. A sly smile carved on her face.“Veyron,” she spoke, low and silky, a secret meant only for him.“Mistress,” he greeted.She loosened straps and untangled layers of his attire with practiced ease. His flesh was hot beneath her wandering fingertips.Her touch was feather light, circling his throat to fasten his silver torque around his neck. Her fingers lingered, trailing down to adjust the folds of his cloak. There was no affection—only possession
LyraLyra’s breath was shallow and erratic as Alpha Veyron loomed over her. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Her lips parted, but her voice refused to come. The silence was absolute. Noone dared breathe.His chest rose and fell heavily as he stared her down, the golden intensity of his eyes burning into her soul. Those eyes… they felt so familiar. Where…? “Who are you?” He demanded again.His gaze roamed her face, his body rigid and trembling with restraint. The connection between them thrummed, wrapping tighter with every passing moment, drowning her in its rawness. Warmth spread through her abdomen.Her mouth opened again. Say something, she begged herself. Anything.But then, a graceful hand curved over Veyron’s broad shoulder with deliberate care. “Alpha,” the Mistress intoned.It took him a heartbeat too long to respond. Slowly, almost reluctantly, his head turned toward her, the hard lines of his jaw flexing as though it took all his will to drag his focus away.The Mistress
VeyronVeyron swept through the familiar halls, lit by flickering sconces. His heavy steps echoed the thoughts he struggled to organize. The council was concerned with unpredicted changes all around the territory.Scorpions venturing further than they ever had. Patrols returned wounded, the varying venoms claiming lives. Some never came back. But they weren’t the only casualties. The pack wars also plagued the edges of his territory.“You’re wasting time,” Eryx rumbled in his mind, interrupting his thoughts. “Let the council debate themselves into oblivion. Can’t you smell her?”
Lyra The storm abated, moonlight bathing Lyra as she lowered Garrick to the cot. She had dismissed the signs that something was wrong as alcohol effects but as she positioned him, the blanket slipped. Swollen and inflamed, verdigris veins branched out from the bite wound, glowing like lava beneath his skin.Her breath caught, the panic rising in her chest. What had happened? Why was this happening to him? Moonlight illuminated the severity of his condition.Garrick let out a strained groan, his breathing faint and irregular. No! Garrick! She had made another friend, more proof she should stay. Proof she actually belonged. He was kind and funny. Death couldn’t have him! Lyra pressed her hands over the wound, her heart racing. She didn’t know what she was doing. Couldn’t explain why she did it. Her fingers trembled as she wished—no, demanded—for him to heal. Desperation surged within her, emotions overwhelming her reason. What are you doing? Logic screamed. You need to run for hel
LyraLyra raced to keep up with Garrick, rain falling in torrential sheets. Grass whipped against her legs. The storm drowned out everything, as Garrick veered left, heading toward the base of a rocky hill. The grass was thick here, shoulder-high, but Garrick never slowed. He pushed through the dense growth to a patch of large rocks nestled within the hill’s slope. A small path ran between them, only visible if you were looking for it.“Welcome to the man cave.” Garrick said, glancing at her over his shoulder. His lips twitched in a wry smile.Lyra blinked, confused at first, but then he stepped aside to reveal the entrance. A narrow opening hid behind jagged rocks.He motioned for her to follow him inside, a welcome relief from the downpour. Garrick lit a small lantern hanging on a wall.Lyra admired the inner cave. The walls were made of sparkling rocks that caught the light, casting a soft glow over the dirt floor. Along one wall, crates were stacked, and a makeshift cot lay agai
LyraLyra ran. Garrick close behind her, taking long, deliberate strides. Without stopping, Lyra dared to glance back. The cats chased them, claw swipes slowing them down as they barely missed Garrick’s back again and again.“Apparently, I should’ve brought more catnip.“ Garrick yelled to her and she glanced at his face to see that damnable smile had returned. “Gonna have to shift.”He skidded to a stop, turning to face the snarling creatures on their heels. The three cats fanned out in a semicircle. Their tails lashing as they prepared to strike.Lyra stumbled but forced herself forward, knowing she was only a hindrance if she stayed. She risked a glance over her shoulder j
LyraLyra sprawled on the ground, her hands scrambling against the damp earth. A sleek wild cat, the size of a german shepard, circled her. Its eyes glowed, an eerie mix of gold and green.The creature's fur blended seamlessly with local vegetation, a muted, tawny color that made it hard to see until it had been nearly on top of her. It shimmered unnaturally in the rain, shifting in ways that weren’t natural, jerking in and out of sync with reality. Scarlike markings marred its muscles, tracing pulsating, runic patterns through its fur.It eyed Lyra as if she were a bird with a clipped wing. It’s trill was contemplative, as if questioning her.Lyra’s stomach twisted with dread as the creature drew closer, lunging in
LyraAfter Veyron left with the Mistress of Shadows, a quiet routine replaced the tension. The maids had warmed to her, their smiles becoming more genuine with each passing day. They shared whispered laughter and exchanged stories while they worked. The camaraderie, unlike anything she had ever experienced, eased Lyra’s nerves and she found herself slowly becoming part of their rhythm.Each task gently reassured her that she belonged. The sound of soft chatter, the warmth of the kitchen fire, and the fresh scent of linen brought joy to the simple life she was living.As gentle rain pattered on the roof, a relaxing rhythm filled the kitchen. The maids chopped vegetables and stirred pots, voices rising in light chatter. The scent of fresh bread and simm
LyraLyra rocked the baby, her arms curled around the tiny, warm body.A faint breeze stirred the sheer curtains, carrying the scent of moonflower. She hummed a low, soothing lullaby full of love. The baby cooed soft, and contented.Lyra stroked delicate curls away from her face, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. Her heart swelled with adoration so fierce, and unbreakable, it stung her eyes. She would do anything for her. Would tear the world apart to keep her safe.I will die for her.Something is wrong.Lyra glanced down at the baby once more. Lifting her head, Lyra looked ar
VeyronThe battlefield was silent now, save for the wind dragging the scent of blood through the air. The dead lay where they had fallen, crimson staining the earth, bodies broken beneath the carnage of war. Veyron exhaled slowly, surveying the ruin before him. Another victory. Another graveyard.Will you destroy me too?Her voice cut through the quiet, unbidden. The words did not belong here among the corpses, yet they were louder than the dying gasps of the fallen.Veyron’s hands curled into fists at his sides. Destroy? The idea was absurd. She was his mate. He would claim, subdue, possess—never destroy. And
LyraLyra blinked. “What?”Kyline spoke slowly. “Your aunt Maris had visions, though not as complete or clear as your mother’s.”Lyra froze, her breath catching in her throat. “My mother?”Kyline nodded, her face grave. “Yes, your mother saw that you would play an important role in the prophecy to help bring back the Moon Goddess. That’s why we were sent there.”Lyra’s pulse thundered in her ears. She had spent so long mourning a mother she barely remembered, never knowing what secrets had died with her. What else was her aunt hiding?“Why?” she rasped. “Why me?”
LyraLyra curled in on herself, knees drawn tight to her chest as she lay on his bed. Her skin crackled with the memory of Veyron’s uninvited touch, imprinted on her skin. It was too quiet, his presence clinging to every shadow, every breath she pulled in. His untamed dark spice scent coiled around her like invisible chains.He was gone. She should feel safe now. But safety had never been an option. Not once in her life. And not with him.Veyron caged her spirit with his words and body beneath his. He took what he wanted without hesitation. He hadn’t needed her permission. Hadn’t cared. And yet, she had wanted him. That undeniable, treacherous pull still burned through her veins, making her crave what she should fear.