The Veilwood slept under a sky swollen with mist. The moon was gone, hidden behind clouds, but its power hummed beneath the soil — alive, ancient, watchful.
Lyra moved quietly through the ruins scattered near the lake. Old stones jutted from the moss like forgotten bones. Some still bore faint carvings, half-buried in vines. She traced them with her fingers, feeling a pulse beneath the surface — like a heartbeat trapped in stone.
"Your mother used to come here," Selene's voice murmured in her mind. "Before she vanished."
Lyra froze. "You said she died."
"I said she vanished."
Her heart thudded. A memory flickered — a woman's soft laugh, the smell of crushed herbs, gentle hands brushing hair from a child's eyes. Lyra had barely been four the last time she saw her mother. The pack had said she'd run off into the wilds. Even then, the elders had whispered: witch blood.
She looked up. "Was she like me?"
Selene's tone was soft, mournful. "She was both wolf and witch. The first of her kind — until you."
Lyra's breath caught. "Then Kian knew?"
"No. He saw only your wolf. You were untrained, your magic asleep. Had he known the truth, he might have killed you sooner."
Lyra's stomach twisted. The memory of his rejection came rushing back — the cold rain, his eyes hard and unfeeling.
"Then maybe he should have," she said bitterly.
The goddess sighed. "Hatred burns fast, child. Be careful it doesn't burn you, too."
A rustle behind her made her whirl around. Damon stepped into the clearing, his usual swagger softened by concern. He carried a small bundle wrapped in black cloth.
"You shouldn't be alone here," he said quietly.
"I'm not." Lyra gestured vaguely at the air — the goddess's presence lingering like smoke.
He dropped the bundle at her feet. "Found this near the ruins."
She knelt and opened it. Inside lay a small pendant, shaped like a crescent moon entwined with a wolf's fang. Her breath hitched.
"I know this," she whispered. "She wore it every day."
Damon crouched beside her. "It's carved with protective runes. Old ones. Witchcraft that predates the packs."
Lyra turned it over in her palm. The metal was warm — alive. "She left this for me."
Damon watched her silently for a moment, then asked, "What are you going to do when you find her?"
Lyra stared at the pendant, her reflection glinting in the silver. "I'm going to ask why she left me in a world that hated what I am."
"And if she tells you the truth hurts more than the lie?"
Lyra looked up sharply. "Then I'll learn to live with the scars."
A hush fell between them. The forest whispered softly, leaves stirring as if listening.
After a long moment, Damon said quietly, "You're not alone in this, Lyra. Whatever's coming, I—"
He didn't finish. The pendant in her hand suddenly pulsed, and the ruins around them came alive with light. Sigils blazed across the stones, the same symbols that had once marked Lyra's training circle.
Selene's voice rose, sharper now.
"She calls you from beyond the veil. The mother's spirit awakens."
Lyra's heart stuttered. The pendant grew hot, burning her palm. The light from the ruins swirled into the air, forming a shape — faint, feminine, and trembling like smoke.
A whisper, fragile but clear, filled the clearing:
"My daughter."
Lyra's knees went weak. The spirit's eyes — her mother's eyes — glowed softly, filled with sorrow.
"I don't understand," Lyra said, her voice breaking. "You left. You let them destroy me."
The ghost's lips trembled. "I tried to protect you from them. From him. The Blood Moon was never meant for you, Lyra. It was meant for me."
Lyra's breath caught. "What are you saying?"
Before her mother could answer, the ground beneath them split open with a deafening crack. The light twisted violently, the spirit's form flickering in pain.
"They've found you," Selene warned.
Damon pulled Lyra back just as black smoke surged from the trees — the scent of wolves and iron filling the air.
Kian's voice roared through the chaos.
"Lyra Hale!"
Lyra turned, her eyes burning silver. "He came."
And from within the swirling light of the ruins, her mother's fading voice whispered one final thing — something that froze Lyra's heart:
"He carries the curse, too."
The vision shattered.