The forest was wrong tonight.
Too quiet.
Too still.
Even the wind held its breath.
I moved through the pines in near silence, each step measured, every instinct stretched to the breaking point. The damp soil gave under my boots, and the sharp scent of iron tinged the air faint, but enough to make my wolf stir beneath my skin.
Something or someone had bled here. Recently.
My patrols were never meant to reach this far, not near the shadow line, not so close to the Old Border. But tonight, something had pulled me. A whisper in my bones. A tension in the back of my neck that hadn't eased since dusk.
The trees narrowed the deeper I went, thick branches clawing overhead like ribs in a beast's chest. I paused, pressing my palm to the rough bark of a cedar, listening.
No birds. No crickets. Not even the low rustle of prey beneath the undergrowth.
Just... silence.
Then, there it was faint, but real. A heartbeat. Rapid. Stumbling. Close.
I broke into a run before I had time to think, shifting into half-form speed without full transformation and vaulted over a fallen log. The scent hit me fully then. Blood, sweat, and something else.
Something I couldn't place.
I slowed as I approached the source, boots digging into the dirt as I crept behind the curtain of ferns.
There.
In a small clearing, half-hidden beneath tangled roots and torn leaves, was a girl.
A woman, maybe. Hard to tell with all the mud and blood. She was collapsed on her side, breathing hard, like she'd been running for hours. Her clothes were torn, soaked, her skin marked with scrapes and bruises.
She was human.
But her scent said otherwise.
My wolf surged, snarling against the cage I held him in. It wasn't aggression it was hunger. Not for flesh. For recognition.
This girl this stranger smelled like she belonged to me.
I crouched beside her, cautious. Her face was turned away, strands of wet hair clinging to her cheek.
"Hey," I said, low and firm. "You're on Moonbound land. You shouldn't be here."
She didn't move.
I reached out and gently touched her shoulder. She flinched violently, eyes snapping open and I staggered back.
Her eyes weren't normal.
They glowed faintly in the dark. Not like a wolf's. Not like anything I'd seen before.
She scrambled backward, trying to put distance between us, but her leg buckled, and she collapsed again with a cry of pain.
"I'm not going to hurt you," I said, raising my hands.
Her gaze darted around the trees like she expected someone or something to lunge out of the dark.
"You don't understand," she whispered. "They're coming."
"Who?"
But she didn't answer.
I scanned the tree line, senses sharp, and now I could feel it the press of another presence. No, several. Moving fast. Closing in.
"We need to go," I said. "Now."
She hesitated.
I stepped forward and scooped her up in my arms before she could protest. She was lighter than I expected, her breath shallow, trembling like a trapped deer. She didn't fight me. She just closed her eyes and buried her face into my shoulder like she'd finally given up.
I moved fast, silent, deeper into the woods. I didn't take her back to the pack. Not yet. I couldn't risk exposing her to the others until I understood what she was who she was.
But as I ran, one thought pounded in time with my heart.
Why did she smell like the moon?
I brought her to the old watchtower, half-buried in moss and memory. No one came here anymore. Not since the Old War.
I laid her down on the cot and checked her pulse. Still fast, but steady. I cleaned the blood off her leg as gently as I could. No broken bones. Just torn skin and exhaustion.
She woke a few minutes later, blinking against the dim lantern light.
"Where are we?" she asked.
"Safe," I said. "For now."
Her eyes scanned the stone walls, the faded sigils etched into the corners. Her gaze finally settled on me.
"You're... one of them," she said slowly.
"One of what?"
"Moonbound."
I nodded once. "Alpha Keal. And you?"
She looked away. "No one."
I folded my arms. "Try again."
"I shouldn't be here," she said. "I crossed the line. I didn't mean to"
"You were running from something," I interrupted. "Someone."
She said nothing.
I leaned forward. "You're not human. What are you?"
She flinched like I'd struck her.
"I don't know," she said softly.
That was a lie. I felt it.
Her scent ,God, her scent it coiled around me like a thread tied tight to my soul. My wolf had never reacted to anyone like this. Not in eighteen years of searching.
"Your blood," I said. "It's... wrong."
She looked up sharply, eyes glassy with something that looked like fear. "I didn't ask to be born."
Born?
I took a slow breath, forcing my wolf back down.
"You're a hybrid."
She froze. Then nodded, barely.
"Wolf and...?"
She hesitated.
"Shadowborn."
My blood ran cold.
That wasn't possible. The Shadowborn were dead. Wiped out in the War of the Eclipse. It was the only way we'd survived by slaughtering every last one of them.
"Your kind shouldn't exist," I said, unable to keep the edge out of my voice.
She looked up, eyes hard. "Do you think I don't know that?"
I turned away, pacing the room. This was bad. If the Council found out I was hiding her, they'd accuse me of treason. If the pack found out, they'd demand her head.
And yet...
She smelled like she belonged to me.
She looked like a secret I'd spent my whole life trying to remember.
She felt like prophecy.
"What's your name?" I asked, back still turned.
A pause.
Then: "Lyra."
The name landed in my chest like a stone.
The prophecy. The one I'd heard whispered since I was old enough to shift.
"When the blood of shadow meets the Alpha's light, the moon shall choose and the war shall reignite."
I turned back slowly. "They're coming for you because of what you are."
She nodded.
"And you came here... why?"
"I didn't mean to. I just ran. I didn't think I'd survive the night."
I met her eyes. "You still might not."
A noise outside.
She jolted, reaching for something instinct more than skill.
I moved to the window, sniffing the air.
Smoke. Ash. Wolves.
"Damn it," I growled.
Lyra stood, shaky but alert. "They found me?"
"No," I said. "They found us."
From the shadows beyond the tree line, glowing eyes appeared. One. Two. Four.
They didn't howl. They didn't call.
They were too smart for that.
These weren't rogues.
These were sent.
I turned to Lyra, every sense burning.
"We're out of time."
She stepped closer, her voice low. "If I stay, they'll kill you."
"If you run," I said, "they'll kill us both."
I reached for her hand. This time, she didn't flinch.
Outside, the wolves circled closer. The ground trembled with their weight.
And the question I didn't want to ask echoed in my head like thunder:
Was I about to protect the girl destined to destroy us all?