Elara's terrifying smile, which stretched over her face like a predator's grimace, vanished as quickly as it appeared. The faint, shimmering aura about her vanished, and her eyes, which had before burned with astonishing intensity, reverted to a placid, innocent look. She looked puzzled as if she hadn't just delivered a warning interspersed with wicked laughter.
"Luna Lyra?" Elara spoke again through the glass, her voice reverting to a cautious, sensitive tone. "Please, I..."I really need to chat with you. "It is for Thorne's health."
Lyra caught her breath as she grasped the weighty tome. Her mind raced. Was this a test? Is this a kind of manipulation? Did she notice the malicious undertone, rapid smile, and odd sparkle in Elara's eyes? No.
The evidence from Whispers of the Ancient Moon and Wren's observations had been too clear. Elara was not as she seemed.
Lyra moved back from the window, her eyes fixed. She wouldn't fall for it. Not yet. Not until she understood the rules of this new, horrible game.
"You speak of Thorne's well-being," Lyra replied, her voice low and stern. "Yet you stay there, holding his dog and taking his place, while he ignores his fated Luna. "Do you really think I am an idiot, Elara?"
Elara's eyes widened as she put her palms on her breast in a sign of complete surrender. "Oh, Luna Lyra! I would never! I am simply a humble she-wolf chosen by the Moon for reasons beyond my control. I merely want to alleviate your sorrow and explain all I can." Her statements were full of phoney sincerity, which disturbed Lyra's delicate sensibilities.
"Your 'explanations' can wait," Lyra said firmly, despite the trembling in her fingers. She instantly recognized that participating now, without any further information, was a trap. "I'm healing. "Let me be."
Elara's face crumpled, symbolizing destroyed innocence. "As you wish, Luna." I wanted to console her. She gave out a quiet, regretful sigh before turning and disappearing back into the darkness of the Whispering Woods just as softly as she had entered.
Lyra watched her go, a chilly certainty seeping into her heart. That performance. It was very slick and rehearsed. Elara's demeanour instantly changed from concealed malice to modest melancholy, reinforcing Lyra's beliefs. Elara was an expert manipulator, and Lyra was everything but confused. She was becoming unusually clearheaded.
She drew the heavy curtains closed, restoring the room to near darkness. She couldn't sleep tonight, what with the mumbling of ancient magic and the horrible image of Elara's smile plaguing her.
The rest of the night was spent reading "Whispers of the Ancient Moon." Lyra went more into the esoteric literature of bogus ties, deceptive illusions, and parasite magic, which may drain and replace genuine connections. The more she read, the more horrifying the vision became, a well-planned, sophisticated assault against not just her love but the whole Moonstone Pack.
Dawn broke, leaving the sky purple and dreary. Lyra's head throbbed, her eyes burned, and her thoughts whirled with new, awful details. She saw now that Thorne's belief in a "severed bond" was undoubtedly sincere but incorrect. He became trapped, most likely unintentionally, in a web of deceit spun by Elara or another great entity operating through her.
She needed more information. She needed to observe. And she needed to test the waters of the pack to discern their true sentiments.
Lyra pulled on the bulky additional gear after a fast, cold wash, encouraging herself to go swiftly. She picked up a strong walking stick at the door, used it for balance, and proceeded to go.
The fragrance of breakfast wafted from the massive packhouse. The familiar aromas of cooking meat and fresh bread, which were usually so delightful, now felt harsh on her mouth. Regardless, she approached it. She refused to hide.
Lyra kept her senses acute as she drove down the familiar, twisting paths that linked the outlying cottages to the packhouse. The early morning air was crisp and filled with the usual sounds of a waking pack, a distant howl of a wolf on patrol, playful yips of puppies, and a deep rumble of male voices. But underneath it all, Lyra began to hear another sound, a faint, ominous whisper.
She approached a small pack of she-wolves doing morning chores outside their dens. Their backs were to her, and they chatted softly.
"...she looks so fragile," one person said, her voice full of regret. Elara's new closest friend is a young she-wolf named Mara, whose loyalty Lyra has long questioned.
"But strong enough to come back," remarked another elderly lady, her voice tinged with fear. "Everyone thought her dead."
"A miracle, then," Mara replied, her tone tinged with suspicion. "Although I hear Alpha Thorne already sees her as a liability." "Especially since Luna Elara is carrying his pup."
Lyra experienced a fresh burst of misery that was as severe as a physical blow. Liability. Thorne was now using the term to describe her.
She purposely scraped her walking stick against a stone to signal her presence. The three she-wolves were surprised and turned to face her, their expressions rapidly paled.
"Luna Lyra!" Mara gasped, and her eyelashes fluttered rapidly. "We were just speaking of your brave return."
Lyra met Mara's gaze, her own eyes icy. So I gathered. And my seeming responsibility for the Alpha's increased comfort.
Mara blushed and whispered her sorry. However, the older lady stood up and met Lyra's gaze with a firm expression. "The Alpha has made a decision, Luna." We must follow his example. "The pack requires stability now more than ever."
"Stability built on deception?" Lyra replied softly, her tone frigid. "Do you honestly believe that an unbreakable relationship can be dissolved by injury? Or do you simply obey everything the Alpha says, even if it breaches our old laws?"
The older she-wolf's eyes widened as panic replaced defiance. She glanced around nervously as if she was worried that someone else might hear. "Luna, your words are hurtful. We have all accepted the Moon's will. "Thorne is our Alpha."
"Indeed," Lyra murmured, her voice falling, prompting the other two to lean in closer to hear. "However, what if the Moon's will is influenced? What if our Alpha, or the whole pack, is deluded? She examined their faces, searching for faults in their views.
Mara let out a gasp and raised her hand to her lips. The older she-wolf's eyes narrowed, creating a terrified and suspicious look on her face.
A powerful, booming voice cut through the early morning silence, frightening everyone. "Hello Luna Lyra. I see you're up and about."
Lyra turned. Thorne paused a few yards after exiting the packhouse. He stood alone, creating a sharp and forceful shadow against the morning sunlight. His gaze wandered around the small group before settling on Lyra with a warning in his eyes. He had surely overheard her last words.
The pack members around Lyra were plainly upset, with emotions ranging from terror to cautious loyalty. The conversation was concluded. The voices were muted. The Alpha has arrived.
Thorne came, his aroma once familiar but now distant and frigid. He came to a halt in front of her, his height towering over her and his presence emitting an undeniable, terrible authority.
"Perhaps," Thorne remarked calmly, "it would be best if you stayed in your quarters for the rest of your recovery, Lyra." At this time, the pack does not need any more speculation.
It was a concealed threat, a tiny rope tightening around her. He was reminding her of her demotion and new location. He was informing her that her words were serious and that he would not allow dissent.
Lyra maintained an unbroken look, the wrath and defiance she had found in the darkness of her hut flashing before her eyes. "I am recovered enough, Alpha," she answered calmly, despite the quiver in her hands. "And my instincts, unlike some, are not so easily swayed." She flashed a piercing glance at Elara, who had emerged from the pack house's doorway and was watching them with disturbing calm.
Thorne clenched his jaw. "Lyra, your instincts have shifted toward those of a Beta rather than a Luna. They may be useful in war, but they are unsuitable for pack politics. His comments revealed a callous disrespect for her insights and spiritual connection.
Lyra refused to back down. "Perhaps my instincts are just sharper, Alpha. Perhaps they can see things others cannot." Her gaze shifted to Elara and then back to Thorne, casting a subtle challenge.
Thorne's jaw twitched. His eyes, which were usually deep and warm, were abruptly cold, hard shards of obsidian. The intensity of his belief in the broken connection, or maybe his manipulation, was disturbing.
"This conversation is over," Thorne said softly, his voice a low growl full of suppressed wrath. Return to your den, Lyra. Now."
It was an order. A basic command. Disobeying constituted open rebellion, and the consequences may be too much for Lyra to bear, considering her precarious circumstances.
But, when she met his stern look, Lyra knew one thing was certain, she would comply with his requests, at least for now. She refused to stay silent. She refused to give up until every covert whisper, subtle judgment, and bitter rejection led her to the ultimate truth.
When she found it, the Moonstone Pack shuddered. Thorne, her former boyfriend, would be forced to choose between the fantasy he believed in and the truth, which would definitely destroy his life.