The forest whispered, but Lyra Storm barely heard it. Her heartbeat was too loud. Too wild. The leaves shook under the cold red glow of the Blood Moon, stretching long shadows across the ground like claws reaching for her.
Her silver mark burned. Hot. Angry. Alive.
Lyra stepped into the clearing. Her bare feet sank into the wet moss. The air tasted sharp. The cold bit her skin, but the fire in her mark crawled up her arm and into her chest. The Moonbound pull hummed inside her, speaking a language she didn’t fully understand.
The pack waited for her.
A tight semicircle. Silent. Watching. Their eyes glowed in the crimson light. Some looked curious. Most looked afraid.
Afraid of her.
The forest felt tense, almost holding its breath, waiting to see what she would become.
Rian Blackthorn moved forward. Her Alpha. The boy she had always felt drawn to. Dark hair. Sharp eyes. A presence that made the world seem smaller. When his gaze met hers, something old and powerful tugged at her chest.
Destiny.
She took a step toward him. Then another. Her breath hitched. The world around her fell away until it was just him. Just the tether between them. Just the burning mark on her skin.
This was it.
Her moment.
Her claim.
Her future.
Rian looked at her a moment longer.
Then he turned his back.
The clearing exploded with gasps. Whispers sliced through the cold air.
“Cursed.”
“Moonbound.”
“Rejected.”
“Dangerous.”
Lyra’s knees almost gave out. The ground tilted. Her vision wavered. The Blood Moon blurred, and the mark on her hand flared so bright it hurt.
Heat rushed through her veins. Rage. Shame. Fear. All tangled in one roaring wave.
Her fingers trembled. The air around her shimmered. Leaves lifted off the ground as if caught in a sudden gust. Shadows stretched toward her like living things.
A branch snapped behind her. She spun. Wolves recoiled, ears flat, eyes wide. Even they were afraid of her.
Lyra stumbled back. Her mark pulsed harder. A deep vibration crawled up her legs, spreading through the earth beneath her feet. Silver sparks flickered along her arms, racing toward her fingertips.
She couldn’t breathe.
The elders stepped forward.
“You are cursed,” one said. “Moonbound. You have no place here.”
The words hit her like claws.
Something inside her cracked.
A growl rumbled through the pack. Young wolves pushed closer, teeth bared, ready to strike.
Lyra didn’t think.
She reacted.
Her hands lifted. Silver light shot out. The air cracked. Leaves whipped into a storm around her. Branches bent away as if fleeing from the power she couldn’t control.
The wolves froze, hackles raised, unsure if they should attack or run.
Lyra didn’t wait.
She turned and ran.
Her feet pounded the earth. Her hair flew behind her. Branches ripped at her skin. Roots grabbed at her ankles, but she pushed past everything. The Moonbound fire surged through her, guiding her deeper into the forest.
Shadows twisted away from her. Trees shuddered. The night itself seemed to part as she fled.
Howls echoed behind her, but they grew faint. The cold wind burned her cheeks. Her lungs screamed. Her mark kept glowing, pushing, pulling, urging her forward.
And then the trees thinned.
She reached the border of her pack’s land. Behind her was rejection. Fear. Pain.
Ahead lay the north.
The air changed there. Heavy. Sharp. Ancient. It felt like crossing into another world.
Danger lived in the northern lands. Even the wind knew it. The trees stood taller. The darkness felt thicker. But Lyra didn’t turn back.
She couldn’t.
The Blood Moon hung above her like an open wound. Her mark burned brighter than ever. She felt stronger. Wilder. Unbroken.
And in the northern shadows, something watched her.
A presence. Cold. Patient. Powerful.
Kael Ravencroft.
Alpha of the north.
The wolf even Alphas feared.
Lyra should have been terrified.
Instead, she felt a spark of something fierce.
She wasn’t weak.
She wasn’t broken.
She wasn’t done.
She was Moonbound.
And she was stepping into the destiny meant for her all along.
