Elara stood in the corner like she'd never left. Seven years old. Blonde curls.
Blue dress torn and dirty from the river.
Exactly as Lyra remembered her from that terrible day. "Miss me?" Elara asked, tilting her head with that innocent smile that used to make Lyra's heart melt.
Now it made her blood freeze. "You're dead," Lyra whispered. "I watched you drown." "Did you? Or did you run away before seeing what really happened?" The question hit like a slap. Lyra had run. The moment she saw Elara go under, fear had taken over. She'd screamed for help and fled back to the pack.
"You're not real," Lyra said, backing against the opposite wall.
"You're just guilt making me crazy." Elara's laugh tinkled like broken bells. "Touch me and find out."
She stepped forward, reaching out her small hand. Lyra pressed harder against the stone wall.
"Stay away from me." "Sister, I've been looking for you for so long. Don't you want to know the truth about that day?" "I know the truth. I killed you."
"No." Elara's voice turned cold as winter wind. "Someone else did. Someone who wanted you to take the blame."
Before Lyra could ask what she meant, footsteps thundered up the tower stairs.
Kael burst through the door with three guards behind him. "What's wrong?" he asked. "We heard screaming."
Lyra looked toward the corner where Elara had been standing. Empty space stared back at her. "I..." Lyra's voice cracked.
"There was someone here." Kael's eyes narrowed. "The room is sealed with metal. Nothing can get in or out."
"But I saw—" "You saw nothing. Hunger and fear make people imagine things." His face softened slightly. "When did you last eat?" Lyra looked at the untouched plate from yesterday.
She'd been too upset to swallow more than a few bites. "Bring her food," Kael told one of his guards. "Real food, not scraps."
"Yes, Alpha." As the guards left, Kael remained in the doorway. "The attack is coming tomorrow night. Your father's army will reach our borders by dusk."
"Are you going to fight?" "If I have to." His jaw tightened.
"Three hundred warriors is too many to ignore." "Let me help." Kael's laugh was bitter. "Help? You're the reason they're coming." "Then let me talk to him. Maybe I can—" "No."
The word cut like a blade. "You stay locked up until this is over."
He started to leave, then paused. "Lyra... if your father wins, what do you think he'll do to my pack?" The question hung in the air like smoke.
Lyra had seen pack wars before—the burning, the screams, the bodies left for crows.
"He'll show mercy," she said, but her voice sounded uncertain even to herself. "Will he?" Kael's eyes bored into hers.
"Or will he punish them for the crime of following me?" He left without waiting for an answer.
He's trying to make me feel bad, Lyra told herself.
It won't work. But doubt crept into her mind like poison.
What if her father really did plan to kill innocent people? What if this whole rescue was just an excuse for conquest? The next morning brought a guest she hadn't expected.
"Good morning, Luna," a smooth voice said from the doorway.
A man stepped into view—tall, handsome, with golden hair and green eyes that sparkled with fun.
Unlike everyone else in the pack, he didn't look at her with disgust or sorrow. "I'm Garren, Beta of the Bloodmoon Pack."
He bowed properly. "I apologize for not meeting you sooner." "Beta?" Lyra had heard the phrase but wasn't sure what it meant. "Second in command.
The Alpha's right hand." Garren's smile was warm and cheerful.
"I handle the things Kael is too busy or too stubborn to deal with." Despite herself, Lyra felt her shoulders relax.
Finally, someone who didn't treat her like garbage. "Why are you here?" she asked.
"To teach you about your new house. If you're going to be our Luna, you should understand how things work."
He sat down cross-legged outside the silver bars, making himself comfy.
"Tell me, what do you know about pack hierarchy?" "Alpha leads. Everyone else follows." Garren laughed. "Close, but not quite. The Bloodmoon Pack has very specific rules that go back hundreds of years."
He began explaining the complex system of ranks and tasks. Alphas ruled. Betas advised. Warriors fought.
Omegas served. Everyone had a place, a reason, a chain of command. "What about Lunas?" Lyra asked.
"Lunas are special. They're the heart of the pack, the mother figure everyone looks to for direction."
His expression grew serious. "But in Bloodmoon, Lunas must prove themselves worthy through trials."
"What kind of trials?" "Tests of strength, knowledge, loyalty. The pack needs to know their Luna will give everything for them." Sacrifice.
The word made Lyra's skin crawl. She'd already traded her childhood, her family, her freedom.
What more could they want? "What happens if a Luna fails the trials?" she asked. Garren's smile flickered. "That's never happened before." "But what if it did?"
"Rejection. Exile. Sometimes..." He shrugged. "Sometimes worse." A chill ran down Lyra's spine.
"Worse how?" "The old rules are harsh, Luna. Especially for those who threaten pack stability."
Threaten pack structure. That sounds like something Kael would say. "Are you threatening me?" Lyra wanted. "Not at all." Garren's smile returned, bright and comforting.
"I'm trying to help you succeed. Unlike our Alpha, I believe you have promise." "Kael doesn't think I can be a good Luna?" "Kael doesn't think anyone can be a good Luna.
He's been burned before." "By who?" Garren glanced around, then leaned closer to the bars. "There was another woman.
Three years ago. Kael loved her deeply, but she betrayed him. Sold pack secrets to our enemies." Lyra's heart twisted with unexpected anger.
"What happened to her?""She died in the attack she helped plan. Kael blamed himself for trusting her."
Garren's voice dropped to a whisper. "That's why he's so cold to you. He's afraid to care again."
The answer made terrible sense. No wonder Kael treated her like a tool instead of a mate. "How can I prove I'm different?" Lyra asked.
"Time and patience.
Show him you're loyal. Show the pack you belong here." Garren stood up, brushing dust from his clothes.
"The trials will begin after this war with your father ends. I'll help you prepare." "Why would you help me?" His green eyes twinkled with something that might have been mischief.
"Because I think you're exactly what this pack needs. A Luna with fire in her heart." He started to leave, then turned back. "Oh, and Luna? Be careful what you say about seeing things that aren't there.
Some of the pack members think you're going crazy from isolation." "I'm not insane." "I believe you. But others might not be so understanding."
After he left, Lyra felt more confused than ever. Garren seemed truly kind, the first person to treat her like she mattered.
But something about his visit felt... off. Maybe it was the way his smile never quite reached his eyes. Or how he'd known exactly what to say to make her trust him.
Stop being nervous, she told herself. Not everyone is your enemy. But that night, as she lay on the thin mattress trying to sleep, she heard voices drifting up from the big hall below. "—perfect opportunity to get rid of her—"
"—the Alpha would never agree—"
"—doesn't have to know until it's over—" Lyra pressed her ear to the floor, trying to hear more.
The words were too muffled to make out clearly, but she caught fragments. "—accident during the battle—""—blame it on her father's forces—""—finally be free of the rogue—" Her blood turned to ice.
Someone was planning to kill her during the upcoming fight. But who? And did Kael know about it? The voices faded as their owners moved deeper into the packhouse.
Lyra stayed pressed against the floor, heart racing. I have to get out of here, she thought.
Before it's too late. She studied the silver bars for the hundredth time, looking for any weakness.
They were solid, unbreakable, made to hold someone much stronger than her.
But as she touched one of the bars, checking its strength, something impossible happened.
The metal began to bend. Not from her physical force—she was still weak from the silver sickness.
The bar bent like it was made of soft clay instead of solid metal. What the hell? She tried another bar. Same result.
The silver yielded to her touch like it was afraid of her.
This isn't possible, she thought. Silver is poison to werewolves. It should hurt me, not follow me.
A whisper floated through the air, so quiet she almost missed it. "The river remembers, sister. And so do you."
Lyra spun around, but the room was empty. When she turned back to the bars, they had returned to their original shape.
Solid.
Unbreakable.
Normal.
Did I dream that too? But deep in her chest, something was stirring. A power she'd never felt before, ancient and cold as river water.
And somewhere in the darkness outside her window, she could swear she heard the sound of running water—even though the nearest river was miles away.