Lyra's POV
I can't breathe.
The crimson light from the blood-red moon bathes everything in shades of death and violence. Kael and Seraphina stand frozen at the altar, her hand still in his, both staring up at the torn sky with expressions of absolute terror.
The ground won't stop shaking. The ancient moonstone altar—sacred for a thousand years—splits down the center with a sound like the world breaking. Chunks of stone crash to the ground, sending wolves scrambling backward.
"What's happening?" someone screams.
The temperature plummets so fast I can see my breath. Frost spreads across the white petals beneath me, across the grass, across everything it touches. My fingers go numb where they're pressed against the frozen ground.
Then the shockwave hits.
It's not physical—or maybe it is, I can't tell. Power explodes across the clearing with such crushing force that every single wolf drops to their knees. The visiting Alphas—powerful, dominant males who bow to no one—slam face-first into the dirt with their necks bared in instinctive submission.
Kael goes down. Seraphina collapses beside him. My stepmother Helena is pressed flat against the ground, her eyes wide with terror. Even my father, former Beta and trained warrior, is trembling.
Only I remain kneeling upright. Not because I'm strong, but because I'm already broken. Already on the ground. Already as low as I can go.
The Elder's voice rises in a terrified chant—old words, ancient words, prayers I've never heard before. His hands shake as he clutches his ceremonial staff.
"Please," he gasps. "Please, have mercy. We meant no offense. We—"
The sky tears open.
Not figuratively. It actually rips—a jagged slash of blinding silver light cutting through the crimson darkness like someone took a knife to reality itself. The tear spreads wider, wider, and through it I see... something else. Another place. A realm of endless stars and silver stone and beauty so terrible it hurts to look at.
"The prophecy," the Elder whispers, his voice breaking. "By the Moon Goddess, the prophecy is real."
A figure appears at the edge of the tear.
Even from here, even through my tears and shock and pain, I can tell he's not mortal. He's too tall, too powerful, radiating an authority that makes every wolf in the clearing whimper in fear.
Then he falls.
No—not falls. Descends. Like a star being ripped from the heavens and hurled toward earth with devastating purpose.
He crashes into the center of the clearing with the force of a meteor strike.
The impact creates a crater. The ground buckles and heaves. Ancient trees at the clearing's edge bend away from the shockwave. Wolves are thrown backward, tumbling across the frost-covered ground.
I'm knocked flat on my back, the air forced from my lungs.
For a moment, there's only silence. Terrible, absolute silence.
Then he rises.
He stands in the center of his crater, surrounded by destruction, and every cell in my body screams that I'm looking at something I was never meant to see. Something beyond mortal understanding.
He's massive—taller than any wolf I've ever seen, broad-shouldered, moving with a predator's grace. His armor looks like it's made from moonlight itself, silver and glowing and clearly not crafted by mortal hands. His hair is long and dark, moving in a wind that doesn't exist, framing a face that's beautiful and terrible in equal measure.
But it's his eyes that steal my breath.
Pure molten silver. Not gray or light blue—silver, like liquid metal heated until it glows. They burn with power so intense I can feel it from here, pressing down on my chest until I can barely breathe.
"The Moon King," the Elder gasps, and his staff clatters to the ground as he prostrates himself completely. "The Moon King has returned."
Moon King?
Whispers ripple through the prone wolves—terrified, awed, disbelieving.
"He hasn't appeared in three hundred years—"
"Why now? Why here?"
"We're all going to die—"
The Moon King moves, and it's like watching death walk. Each step is silent despite the armor, despite his size. The frost spreads from his feet in patterns like silver lace. The air shimmers around him with barely contained power.
He's scanning the clearing, those burning silver eyes moving over the crowd of prostrated wolves with cold assessment. Looking for something.
Then his gaze lands on me.
Everything stops.
The world narrows to just the two of us—me, broken and kneeling in the ruins of my rejected mating ceremony, and him, an immortal king who hasn't walked the mortal realm in centuries.
His eyes widen slightly. Just a fraction. Like he's surprised.
Then his expression hardens into something that looks like fury.
He moves toward me, and it's predatory. Purposeful. Every wolf he passes presses themselves flatter against the ground, trembling. Even Kael—arrogant Alpha Kael—has his forehead in the dirt, his entire body shaking.
The Moon King stops directly in front of me.
Up close, he's even more terrifying. The power radiating off him is suffocating, drowning, absolutely overwhelming. My empty wolf-space aches with the need to submit, to bare my throat, to acknowledge him as something far above me in every way.
But I can't move. I'm frozen, staring up at him with wide eyes, my heart pounding so hard I think it might explode.
He studies me for a long moment, his silver eyes burning into mine. I feel stripped bare under that gaze. Exposed. Like he's seeing straight through to my shattered soul.
When he speaks, his voice resonates with power—not loud, but absolute. The kind of voice that makes reality itself obey.
"Stand."
My body responds before my mind catches up. My legs push me upright even though they're shaking, even though I feel like I might collapse any second. Some primal part of me recognizes his command as law, irrefutable and undeniable.
We're standing face to face now. Well, face to chest. He's so much taller that I have to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact.
"What is your name?" he demands.
My mouth is dry. "L-Lyra. Lyra Ashborn."
"Lyra." The way he says my name sends shivers down my spine. His gaze travels over my face, down to the torn collar of my ceremonial dress, across the tear-stained fabric. "Do you know what you are?"
I shake my head, confused. Terrified. "I'm nobody. I'm nothing. I'm—"
"Look at me." His tone sharpens, and my eyes snap back to his. "Tell me what happened here tonight."
"I—" My voice breaks. "My mate rejected me. He chose my stepsister instead. The bond severed and my wolf—" Tears spill over despite my best efforts. "My wolf is gone."
Something flashes in those silver eyes. Not pity. Something darker. More dangerous.
"Who rejected you?" he asks quietly.
I nod toward where Kael is still prostrated on the ground. "Alpha Kael Thornwood. He said I was too weak to be his Luna. That I was a liability."
The Moon King's gaze shifts to Kael, and the temperature drops another ten degrees.
"Stand," he commands, and Kael has no choice but to obey. He rises on shaking legs, his face pale, unable to meet those terrible silver eyes.
"You rejected your fated mate," the Moon King says. It's not a question.
"I—yes, Your Majesty, but I—"
"Silence." The single word makes Kael's mouth snap shut. "You rejected the bond the Moon Goddess herself created. Do you understand what you've done?"
"She was weak," Kael says desperately. "Her wolf was small, her powers ordinary. I had to think of the pack—"
The Moon King moves so fast I don't see it. One moment he's beside me, the next he's gripping Kael by the throat, lifting the Alpha off his feet with one hand.
"You," he says softly, deadly, "have no idea what you just threw away."
Then he drops Kael and turns back to me.
Reaches out slowly, giving me time to flinch away. I don't. I can't. I'm paralyzed by those eyes, by the way he's looking at me like I'm something precious he's been searching for.
His fingers brush my cheek.
And the world explodes into light.