Elara's claws sliced through the air where Lyra's throat had been a second before. "Too slow, sister," the ghost-child giggled, spinning elegantly in the flooded room.
Kael swung his sword again, but the blade cut only empty air. "We need to get out of here!" More pale shapes climbed through the broken window.
Dead pack members with silver eyes and hungry smiles. The black water rose to their knees, carrying whispers and promises of endless rest.
"There's nowhere to run," Elara sang, dancing between the approaching corpses.
"The river runs everywhere now. Every stream, every drop, every tear belongs to us."
Lyra backed toward the door, her heart pounding. The silver power in her chest flickered like a dying light.
She was tired of fighting. Tired of being afraid. Tired of being nothing but a tool in everyone else's game.
A tool. Kael's words echoed in her head like poison. "Lyra, move!" Kael grabbed her arm, pulling her toward the door.
But as they reached it, the wood began to rot. Black water seeped through the cracks, making puddles that reflected ghostly faces.
"You can't escape what you owe," Elara whispered, suddenly appearing right beside them. "The debt must be paid."
Kael pushed Lyra behind him, raising his sword like a shield. "What debt? She was eight years old!" "Old enough to make promises. Old enough to beg."
Elara's silver tears dripped onto the floor, each drop hissing like acid. "She called my name as I drowned. Screamed that she would take my place.
The river heard every word." "I was trying to save you!" Lyra cried. "Were you? Or were you trying to save yourself from father's anger?" The claim hit like a physical blow.
Because part of it was true. Eight-year-old Lyra had been afraid of getting in trouble, of facing their father's disappointment. "I loved you," Lyra whispered. "Love?" Elara laughed, the sound sharp as broken glass.
"You loved yourself more. That's why you ran when father blamed you.
That's why you hid in the woods for ten years instead of facing the truth." Each word was a knife twisting deeper.
Lyra felt her legs buckle, the weight of guilt crushing her chest. "Stop," Kael ordered, his Alpha voice cutting through the supernatural cold.
"Leave her alone." "Why?" Elara tilted her head like a curious bird. "She's just a tool, remember? Your words, not mine." Kael's jaw tightened, but he didn't deny it. "See?" Elara clapped her hands together.
"Even her precious mate thinks she's useless. No wonder father blamed her. No wonder the pack mocks her.
Who could love something so broken?" "Shut up!" Lyra's power flared, silver light blazing around her hands. But instead of fear, Elara smiled wider. "There it is. The rage you've been hiding.
The anger that's been eating you alive for ten years." The ghost-child stepped closer, ignoring Kael's sword totally. "You hate them all, don't you? Father for blaming you.
Kael for using you. The pack for laughing at you. Even me for dying and leaving you alone." "No, I—" "Yes, you do.
And that hate is wonderful." Elara breathed deeply, like she was smelling flowers. "It tastes like guilt and shame and perfect, beautiful pain."
The dead pack members pressed closer, their silver eyes reflecting Lyra's pain.
The water rose higher, now reaching their waists. "Come to the river," Elara cooed. "Let it wash away all that hurt.
No more guilt.
No more loneliness. No more being anyone's tool." For a moment, the offer sounded tempting.
An end to the constant ache in her chest. No more wondering if she was worthy of love. "Lyra, don't listen to her," Kael said quickly.
"Whatever you're thinking, don't." "Why not?" she snapped, her feelings boiling over. "You made it clear I'm nothing to you.
Just another weapon in your collection." "That's not—" "It's exactly what you said! A tool to control other packs. Something useful but not worth caring about."
Tears burned her eyes.
"At least in the river, I won't feel anything anymore." The water around them started to swirl, creating a current that tugged at their legs.
The dead pack members smiled and opened their arms in welcome. "One little swim," Elara whispered. "That's all it takes.
No more pain. No more fear. Just peace." Lyra took a step toward the window.
Then another. "Lyra, no!" Kael lunged forward, but the current knocked him sideways. He hit the wall hard, his sword clattering across the floor.
"Don't you see?" Elara danced around Lyra like they were playing a childhood game.
"He doesn't really care. If you were important, he'd fight harder. Love harder. But you're just a tool, and tools can be changed."
The words cut deep because they felt true. Kael had claimed her for political reasons. Her father had blamed her for Elara's death.
Even her own pack had never accepted her. Maybe she really was useless. "Come, sister," Elara held out her small hand. "The water is warm. Like a bath. Like mother's arms."
Lyra reached toward the ghostly fingers. Her pain felt so heavy, like stones dragging her down. It would be so easy to let go.
So easy to stop fighting. Her fingers brushed Elara's palm—"NO!" Kael's roar shook the entire room.
Not his Alpha voice this time, but something rawer.
More desperate. He threw himself between them, his naked hands passing through Elara's form. The ghost-child hissed and stepped back, her pretty face twisting with anger. "She's mine!" Elara shrieked.
"The river chose her first!" "I don't care what the river chose." Kael's eyes blazed as he faced Lyra. "You want to know the truth? Fine.
Yes, I claimed you for political reasons. Yes, I needed your father's union." Lyra's heart cracked a little more.
"But that's not why I can't sleep at night," he added, his voice rough with emotion. "It's not why I avoid touching you. It's not why I've been fighting this bond since the moment it snapped into place."
"Then why?" she whispered. "Because I'm terrified."
The admission seemed to cost him everything. "I've lost everyone I ever cared about.
My dad.
My sister.
Everyone I love dies, and I can't—I won't—watch it happen again." Sister? Lyra's mind reeled. Kael had a sister? "You think keeping me locked away protects me?" she asked. "I think if I don't let myself care, it won't destroy me when you leave."
"When I leave? Or when I die?" His silence was answer enough.
Elara laughed, the sound like breaking bells. "How sweet. The big bad Alpha is afraid of his feelings. But fear won't save her, Kael.
The bill must be paid." "What if I pay it instead?" Kael's hand moved to the silver charm around his neck.
"A life for a life. Take me." "No!" Lyra grabbed his arm. "You don't understand what you're offering!" "I understand enough." His gray eyes met hers, and for the first time, she saw past his walls. Saw the pain and guilt and urgent love he'd been hiding.
"You're worth more than any union. More than any pack. More than my own life." Elara tilted her head, considering. "Tempting.
But the river doesn't want just any soul. It wants the one that was promised." She pointed at Lyra with one pale finger.
"However," the ghost-child's smile turned sly, "there is another way."
"What way?" Lyra wanted. "A willing deal. Soul for soul, but both living. Both bound to serve the river's will." Elara's silver eyes gleamed. "Become my vessel, sister.
Share your body with my spirit, and Kael can live." The water surged higher, now reaching their chests.
The dead pack members pressed closer, their hungry gazes fixed on Lyra's face. "Choose quickly," Elara sang.
"Drown alone, or save your mate by becoming something else entirely." Kael shook his head furiously.
"Don't do it. Whatever she's offering, don't—" "But then you'll die," Lyra said softly. "I've been dead inside for years.
At least this way, you get to live." "Not live. Exist." Elara's voice turned nasty. "As my puppet. My toy.
Watching through your own eyes as I use your body to kill everyone you love." The choice hung between them like a blade.
Death or something worse than death. The water reached their necks. "Choose!" Elara ordered.
Lyra looked at Kael—this broken, beautiful man who'd been trying to protect her by pushing her away.
Who'd just admitted he loved her enough to die for her. She made her choice. "I accept," she said, reaching for Elara's offered hand.
But just as their fingers touched, something impossible happened.
The silver locket around Kael's neck started to glow. Not silver light—golden light. Warm and bright as summer sunshine.
Elara screamed and jerked backward, her ghostly form flashing like a candle in the wind. The dead pack members cried and dissolved into mist.
Even the black water began to recede. "Impossible," Elara gasped. "That locket belongs to—" She never finished the sentence.
The golden light burst outward, filling the room with warmth and hope and something that felt like home. When Lyra's vision cleared, Elara was gone. The water was gone.
The dead were gone.
Only she and Kael remained, standing in his wrecked but dry bedroom. "What just happened?" Lyra breathed.
Kael looked at the locket in his hand, his face pale with shock. "This belonged to my sister. My real sister, who died when I was sixteen."
"I thought you said everyone you loved was dead." "She is dead. Has been for twelve years."
He looked up at Lyra, confusion and surprise warring in his eyes. "But somehow, she just saved us both."
Through the broken window, they could hear the river receding. But Lyra knew this wasn't over.
The debt was still due. And somewhere in the darkness, Elara was planning her revenge.
"Kael," Lyra whispered, "I think we're in more trouble than we know."
Before he could ask what she meant, a new voice drifted through the night air.
Not Elara's childish tones, but something old and hungry. The sound of the river itself.
"The locket won't protect you forever," it whispered like wind through dead leaves. "And when its light fails, I'll be waiting."
In the distance, something howled. Not a wolf, but something trying to be one. Something that had once been human. The hunt was just starting.