The cold air bit at Lyra's skin as she stepped onto the Academy training field.
A dull gray sky hung overhead, heavy with mist and menace. Around her, students stood in loose circles, armed and alert, waiting for the Headmistress's command. Tension gripped the academy like a claw—another student was still missing, and the whispers of witchcraft hadn't faded.
Lyra's body ached from lack of sleep, but her blood simmered beneath the surface. The strange growl she'd heard the night before—inside her—still echoed in her bones. Her wolf was close, closer than ever… and she didn't know whether to be afraid or ready.
Kael stood at the edge of the training grounds, flanked by Thorne and a few other court guards. His arms were folded, his expression unreadable, but his gaze was locked on her.
As always.
"Today's drill is simple," the Headmistress barked. "Endurance trial. You'll fight until you break. No taps. No mercy."
Some of the wolves chuckled, eager. Others glanced warily at Lyra—the bond-marked outsider—still alive when she shouldn't be. Still marked by their Alpha when she had no rank. No wolf.
Yet.
Lyra stepped into the circle without hesitation.
She had something now—rage. Fire. Purpose. And the memory of Marella's wide, kind eyes. Gone.
They paired her with a male warrior named Cato—older, stronger, with a sneer permanently etched into his face.
"A defect," he muttered as they circled each other. "What a joke."
Her jaw tightened. Let him talk.
The whistle blew.
Cato lunged.
Lyra dodged instinctively—barely—and rolled, coming up hard. Pain flared in her ribs where he clipped her, but she forced herself to keep moving.
Blow after blow came. He wasn't holding back. His claws grazed her shoulder; blood bloomed through the fabric of her tunic. Her knees hit the dirt. She coughed, gasped—but she didn't stop.
Kael's voice echoed in her mind: "If this war is coming, you'll need more than survival instincts. You'll need rage."
She stood again.
Cato grinned. "You don't know when to stay down, do you?"
"Neither do monsters," she spat.
His smile faded. He came at her again—brutal, fast.
And something inside her snapped.
A rush of heat exploded in her chest—like wildfire racing through her blood. Her limbs burned. Her eyes widened as the world slowed. She saw everything—every angle, every breath, every shift of Cato's weight.
And then—she moved.
Not like before. Not like prey.
She moved like a predator.
She spun past his strike and slammed her elbow into his temple. He staggered. She kicked his knee, swept his legs, and dropped him to the ground in three clean motions.
Silence fell.
Cato didn't rise.
The other students stared.
Lyra stood over him, panting. Her vision swam—then blurred. Her skin burned, her fingers twitched. Her spine arched painfully, and her throat clenched around a scream.
Something was happening.
She dropped to her knees. Her heartbeat thundered. The air around her crackled with strange energy. Her mark burned white-hot.
Then she howled—a raw, broken sound that wasn't human.
A blinding light burst from her chest.
Wind tore through the grounds, lifting dust and sparks into the air. The students staggered back. Kael stepped forward, eyes wide, one hand halfway raised—not in command, but in awe.
Then it happened.
Lyra's wolf awoke.
But it wasn't like any other awakening. No silver fur. No golden glow. Instead, a midnight flame coursed across her limbs—ethereal, ancient. Her bones cracked, reshaped, but not into a full beast. No, her form shimmered between wolf and woman, as if something older than their laws had been stirred.
Gasps echoed.
"She's not—" someone whispered. "That's not a normal shift…"
Lyra fell forward, panting as the transformation halted midway. The flames flickered and vanished, but the power remained—settled deep in her bones.
Kael was beside her in an instant, kneeling, his breath shallow. "Lyra—"
She looked up slowly, her eyes no longer brown.
They glowed gold, rimmed in violet fire.
Kael didn't speak. Couldn't.
Everyone around them watched with a mix of fear and fascination.
She was trembling, but not weak. Not afraid.
For the first time, she didn't feel broken. Didn't feel hunted.
She felt whole.
The bond between her and Kael pulsed—brighter, wilder. His own mark flared in response.
"You're… you're not supposed to exist," he whispered.
She pushed herself up, slowly. "But I do."
Kael stood with her, eyes scanning her like he'd never seen her before. "Your wolf... it's not of this time."
"I don't think it ever was," she said.
The students parted as she walked past, dazed and silent.
And Kael, for once, followed behind her—not as her captor, not even as her Alpha…
But as a wolf who had no idea what he had just unleashed.
His last words, soft and shaken, trailed after her:
"What are you, Lyra?"
The words haunted the silence.
"What are you, Lyra?"
She didn't answer. Not because she didn't want to, but because… she didn't know.
Her legs moved on their own, carrying her down the corridor that led away from the training grounds. The violet flicker in her eyes had faded, but the heat inside her hadn't. Her body felt foreign, stretched, awakened. Every step was too light. Every heartbeat echoed like thunder.
When she passed a mirror in the corridor, she paused—and stared.
Her reflection looked back with a quiet, terrifying majesty. Her features were the same, but her eyes still shimmered with faint golden fire. Her skin glowed with a subtle hue, almost celestial. And behind her, like a shadow stitched to her soul, her wolf hovered—formless, massive, burning with black and violet flame.
It wasn't just a wolf. It was something else.
Ancient. Primal. Divine.
She touched her chest. The mark Kael had branded her with—now pulsed with a strange new light. As if it had been rewritten by whatever had been inside her all along.
Suddenly, a sharp pain stabbed through her head.
Visions.
— A battlefield soaked in blood.
— A silver crown shattering.
— A woman with her face, screaming as fire consumed her.
— A voice: "The blood of the First Moon shall return… and with her, the end of kings."
Lyra gasped and stumbled backward. The visions vanished, but the words etched themselves into her mind.
She wasn't just awakening.
She was remembering.
---
Back at the training grounds, Kael stood frozen.
The other students whispered in hushed, reverent horror.
"She shifted, but… it wasn't a shift."
"Her wolf… it burned."
"I've never seen that kind of magic."
"Did you see Kael's face?"
Thorne stepped up beside him, his usual sarcasm absent. "That wasn't a standard transformation."
Kael didn't respond.
"She didn't just shift," Thorne continued. "She became."
Kael's hands clenched at his sides. This changes everything.
Not just politically—though the court would soon be in uproar.
This was something deeper. More dangerous.
He had force-marked a girl who wasn't just an anomaly. She was prophecy.
Or worse… something that had never belonged in their world to begin with.
---
Lyra didn't return to her quarters.
She wandered—almost in a trance—until she found herself on the cliffs beyond the eastern wall. The wind whipped around her, fierce and cold. Below, the jagged rocks and sea surged with endless fury.
She welcomed the storm.
Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, searching within. Are you there?
A pulse answered.
Then words—raw and whispered—from deep inside her soul.
"I have waited… for so long."
"Who are you?" she asked aloud.
A rumble in her chest. "I am the beginning you forgot. The fury they buried. The howl before the blood."
Lyra sank to her knees.
Was this madness? Magic? Or destiny?
Before she could process more, the crunch of boots approached from behind.
She turned.
Kael.
His eyes flickered in the dying light, wary and conflicted. He said nothing for a long time—just stood a few feet away, hands clenched.
"You shouldn't be alone," he said finally.
Lyra smiled bitterly. "I've always been alone."
He looked down. "Not anymore."
A strange stillness stretched between them.
"You saw it," she whispered. "Whatever it is inside me. What did you see?"
He was quiet. Then he answered, voice low. "I saw power… that even I don't understand. And that terrifies me."
"Because you can't control it?"
"Because it might control you."
Lyra stood, facing him fully. "You're afraid of me now."
"I'm afraid of what the court will do when they realize what you are."
She stared out at the sea, voice distant. "Then I suppose they'll have to learn to be afraid too."
Kael stepped closer, reaching for her hand—then stopped, fingers just inches away.
"Lyra," he said, voice softer than she'd ever heard it. "If you fall to whatever this is… I'll be forced to destroy you. You know that, don't you?"
She turned to him. Their faces were close. Too close.
"And if I rise instead?" she whispered.
He didn't flinch. "Then they'll try to destroy both of us."
The air pulsed between them again—tension, heat, and something more. Something ancient. Fated. Dangerous.
Neither of them moved.
The storm raged behind them. But in that moment, two enemies stood on the edge of fate—Alpha and omega, predator and prey, prophecy and doom.
And everything was about to change.