The forest north of Crescent Moon was older than time. The trees rose like stone towers, their roots coiling through black earth that had drunk centuries of blood and secrets. No wolf ventured here willingly. They called it The Veilwood — where moonlight itself feared to linger.
Yet that was exactly where Alpha Kian Varell now stood.
His boots sank slightly into the damp moss. Behind him, his scouts shifted nervously, their wolves whimpering beneath their breath. The air smelled of rain and witchcraft — and something else he couldn't name.
He had followed the trail for three days now. Every step had led deeper into a place that even elders said was cursed. But Kian's obsession drowned out reason. He had to know.
Was Lyra truly alive?
He didn't sleep. Couldn't. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face — broken, betrayed, fading into stormlight as she fell.
Every night since the Blood Moon, her scent returned in dreams. Wild lavender, rain, and something sharper now — power. It haunted him like guilt given form.
"Alpha," Beta Rowan said quietly, breaking his trance. "We should turn back. The pack's uneasy, and—"
Kian cut him off with a glare. "Do you feel that?"
Rowan frowned. "Feel what?"
Kian didn't answer. The forest had gone utterly silent. No birds. No wind. Only the sound of his heartbeat — and then, faintly, a whisper.
"You shouldn't have come here, Alpha."
He froze. The voice didn't belong to anyone around him. It came from the trees themselves, from the mist curling between the roots. Then, like a mirage, a shadow moved — slender, graceful, familiar.
"Lyra?" His voice cracked in disbelief.
The mist thickened, and the form sharpened — a woman cloaked in silver light. Her eyes glowed faintly, unearthly, beautiful. She looked exactly as she had before she died… and nothing like it at all.
Kian took a step forward, breath shallow. "It's you."
"Not the Lyra you knew," the apparition whispered.
"That one died beneath your rejection."
He froze, heart pounding.
"I buried you," he said hoarsely. "I watched your blood spill into the rain. How—"
"You watched what you wanted to see," the voice interrupted. "And what the goddess chose to show you."
The mist flared white — then the vision shattered. The clearing returned to darkness. Lyra was gone.
Kian staggered, clutching his chest as something cold flooded through his veins. For a heartbeat, his wolf whimpered, shrinking back.
"Alpha!" Rowan rushed to his side. "What happened?"
"She's alive," Kian said quietly, his voice trembling between awe and fury. "And she's changed."
He turned sharply, eyes glowing gold again, but there was something unsteady in them now — fear, maybe even regret.
"We keep going," he ordered.
"But—"
"I said keep going!"
The group moved forward. The path twisted like a serpent until it led them to a stone arch covered in vines. Strange runes pulsed faintly along its surface. Kian brushed his fingers over them — and felt the air crackle.
Behind him, Rowan's voice dropped. "That's witchwork."
"Yes," Kian murmured. "And she's behind it."
Suddenly, the runes flared, blinding bright. A pulse of energy exploded outward, hurling every wolf back. Kian hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the air from his lungs. When the light faded, one thing remained carved across the arch in silver fire:
"You should have loved me when you had the chance."
The message burned itself into his mind. His wolf snarled inside him, torn between guilt and rage.
Rowan rose shakily beside him. "She left that for you."
Kian's voice was a whisper. "No. She left it for the Alpha who killed her."
The forest wind howled suddenly, colder than before, and carried the faintest trace of laughter — soft, haunting, and undeniably hers.
Meanwhile, miles away, Lyra stood at the edge of a moonlit lake. Her reflection shimmered on the surface — her eyes no longer purely silver but streaked with red. The mark of the Blood Moon was spreading.
"He's entered the Veilwood," Selene's voice whispered.
Lyra's jaw tightened. "Good. Let him find what he created."
From behind her, Damon stepped into the clearing. "You're provoking a war."
She didn't look at him. "No," she said softly. "I'm preparing for one."
The lake's surface rippled violently — and within it, shadows began to move. Faces of long-dead wolves, their souls restless.
Selene's voice grew faint. "Be careful, child. The more you awaken, the more the darkness will want you."
Lyra closed her eyes. "Then I'll make it fear me."
The water exploded upward in a pillar of silver fire, engulfing her silhouette completely.