The moon was full.
Its silver light spilled across the Midnight Fang Pack like a whispered promise—an ancient one that bound wolves to fate, blood to moonlight, and hearts to hearts. All across the pack lands, excitement hummed in the air like static. The Mating Ceremony was a sacred tradition—one where the Moon Goddess revealed fated pairs. Where love could blossom in an instant… or be destroyed.
But Lyra Hale wasn't excited.
She stood at the edge of the gathering circle, her bare feet chilled against the dew-kissed grass, the rest of the pack mingling and glowing with hope. She wore a simple lavender dress, borrowed from her friend Sienna, her long dark curls tumbling down her back. Her heart raced—not from joy, but dread.
She wasn't like the others.
She wasn't a warrior. She wasn't a healer. She wasn't a Beta's daughter or a future Luna. She was… an omega. The daughter of a disgraced tracker who died protecting a secret Lyra still didn't understand. Her mother had faded from grief soon after, leaving her orphaned and invisible.
Now, at eighteen, the Moon would mark her—if she was lucky.
If she wasn't? She'd remain unmated. Alone. Forgotten.
Her fingers tightened around the moonstone pendant at her throat, the only thing her mother left behind.
"Still hiding in the shadows, Lyra?" a voice sneered.
She turned. Cerys, the Beta's daughter, smirked as she sauntered past in a silk blue gown that shimmered like ice. Her platinum hair was pinned high, and every inch of her screamed "future Luna." A group of girls giggled behind her like obedient shadows.
Lyra said nothing. What was there to say? She wasn't here to impress anyone.
Her eyes drifted beyond the jeering girls, locking onto the one figure who made her pulse stutter.
Cian Blackthorn.
The Alpha's only son. Tall. Brooding. Dangerous. With raven-dark hair, sun-golden skin, and silver-blue eyes that seemed to see everything—and yet nothing at all. He stood with his father, Alpha Magnus, nodding as elders whispered ritual blessings.
Cian was the future.
Lyra was the forgotten past.
But still, her wolf stirred at the sight of him. A deep ache throbbed behind her ribs.
"Lyra." A warm voice broke into her thoughts.
She turned. Sienna wrapped her into a tight hug. The only person who saw her. The only one who still believed she belonged.
"You okay?" Sienna asked softly, pulling back.
Lyra forced a smile. "Not really."
Sienna frowned. "Listen, if anything happens—if you feel the bond—I want you to be brave. The Moon Goddess doesn't care about rank. She chooses who she chooses."
"She didn't choose me last year."
"You hadn't shifted yet. Tonight changes everything."
Lyra nodded, but inside she was hollow.
The drums began to beat—slow and steady, echoing across the clearing. Silence fell. All unmated wolves gathered in a circle. Lyra joined them, her heart pounding louder than the rhythm.
The High Elder stepped into the center, arms raised. "On this sacred night, under the full gaze of the Moon, we call upon the Goddess to reveal the bonds of the soul. Let those destined find each other."
Wolves shifted around her—tense, expectant. The air thickened. Energy crackled. And then…
Lyra's wolf surged.
Her body convulsed, bones shifting, muscles stretching. Pain lanced through her spine—but it wasn't agony. It was release. Her first shift.
She fell to her knees, panting, her skin glowing faintly silver as her wolf brushed the surface.
Then—she felt it.
The bond.
A hot, electric tether pulling at her core. Her eyes widened as her wolf whispered one word:
Mate.
She turned—her gaze drawn across the clearing—and locked eyes with Cian.
His expression froze.
So did hers.
No. No, it couldn't be him.
Cian's jaw tightened. His wolf stirred behind his eyes. He took a single step forward—
—and then stopped.
The entire pack stilled.
Cian blinked, his face unreadable. Then his voice cut through the air, cold and sharp as steel.
> "I, Cian Blackthorn, reject you, Lyra Hale, as my mate."
The world tilted.
A collective gasp echoed. Someone dropped a cup. Sienna cried out.
Lyra couldn't breathe.
"No…" she whispered.
But he wasn't finished.
> "You're weak. An omega. Unworthy of me."
Her chest caved inward, like something sacred had been shattered. The bond—once glowing and warm—snapped.
Her knees gave out. Her soul screamed.
And Cian? He turned his back.
Tears burned her eyes. Shame crawled up her throat. The murmurs began.
"She's the rejected one…"
"An omega? How could she be fated to him?"
"She should leave…"
"Rogue blood…"
Sienna tried to reach her, but Lyra was already running—barefoot, broken, and barely human—into the woods.
---
The forest swallowed her.
Branches scratched her arms. Stones cut her feet. But she didn't stop. She ran until her lungs burned and her tears blurred everything.
Why? Why would the Moon pair her with him, only to have her heart ripped out?
She stumbled into a small clearing deep in the woods—far beyond the pack's borders. An ancient tree stood in the center, silver bark glowing faintly under the moonlight. She collapsed beneath it, sobbing, her pendant warm against her chest.
"I didn't ask for this," she whispered. "I didn't want him. I just… wanted to belong."
The wind shifted. The leaves rustled.
And then… a light.
Soft. Silver. Glorious.
It streamed down from the full moon above, bathing her in its warmth.
Lyra gasped, shielding her eyes.
Her pendant pulsed once—then glowed.
The wind whispered a voice—not from the earth, but the sky.
> "You were not made to be chosen by him.
You were made to be crowned."
Lyra's eyes widened.
The light wrapped around her like a veil.
Her tears stopped.
Her pain slowed.
The earth trembled.
And in the distance… something ancient woke.
Lyra collapsed beneath the Moon Tree, her body aglow, as silver threads of light wrapped around her limbs. Above, the moon shone brighter than ever, and somewhere deep in the forest… something growled in answer.
---