Light. It was everywhere.
It didn't feel warm — not like sunlight, not like the gentle glow of dawn. It was colder, sharper, alive in a way that made her skin hum. Lyra floated in it, neither standing nor falling, the edges of her body dissolving into the glow.
She should have been afraid. She wasn't.
The voice came softly, like an echo in the back of her mind.
You are the vessel now.
Lyra's breath trembled. "Who are you?"
I am what has always been watching.
Images unfolded around her: a thousand moons rising and setting over an endless forest, generations of wolves bowing beneath their light, blood staining the snow where love had tried to defy law. Each memory felt familiar, as though she had lived every life shown to her.
Lyra clutched her head. "Stop—"
The choice has already begun, the voice continued. Two hearts cannot hold one bond. The Alpha's line and the Moon's light must divide.
The words cut through her. "No," she whispered. "He's part of me."
The light pulsed. Then you must decide which part of you survives.
The vision twisted. She stood suddenly in the ruins of the forest clearing — the one where the curse had awakened. The rain had stopped, but the air still smelled of lightning. Across from her stood Kian, real and solid, his eyes wide with fear and love.
"Lyra!"
She wanted to run to him. Her body wouldn't move. The circle of silver light around her feet flared again, anchoring her in place.
"Kian, I—"
Her voice broke off as the power surged through her chest. Her mark burned, veins lighting under her skin like threads of silver fire. She could feel it — the moon inside her — vast and alive and hungry.
The voice returned, no longer gentle.
If you stay bound to him, the forest will burn. If you sever the bond, he will live, but you will forget.
Lyra's pulse stuttered. "Forget?"
Love has no place in the vessel. The moon must remain pure.
The world dimmed at the edges. She could see him reaching for her, his face breaking with desperation. It was enough to ground her for one breath.
"No," she said. "I won't choose between him and the light."
The air cracked. Silver fire spilled outward from her hands, colliding with Kian's reaching form. He staggered back but didn't fall. The glow in his wrist — the bond mark — flared to meet hers, golden against silver.
"Then fight me," he said, his voice rough with defiance. "If that's what it takes to keep you."
The light reacted. It didn't belong to her anymore — it wanted him gone. Her knees buckled under the force, tears stinging her eyes.
"I can't—"
"You can," he said, stepping through the glow. "You always could."
For a heartbeat, the two lights — gold and silver — merged. The world held its breath.
And then, the moon above them split again, spilling a beam of pure white light between them. It struck the ground like a blade.
The voice roared in her mind. Choose!
Lyra looked up through tears, caught between the love that made her human and the power that demanded her surrender.
Her whisper barely reached him.
"Kian… if I choose wrong—"
He shook his head, his eyes burning. "Then we'll make it right."
The light surged again — wild, unstoppable — and the world broke apart into blinding white.
When the light faded, the clearing was empty.
No wolves. No moon. No sound but the faint rustle of leaves returning to life.
And in the center of the silence, only a single mark remained scorched into the ground — half gold, half silver.