Nyra awoke before dawn, the room drenched in the cold, silver glow of the Blood Moon. Her chest felt heavy, like a heartbeat that wasn't hers alone pulsed beneath her ribs.
She shivered, sensing… something. A whisper at the edge of her mind.
It started faintly. A voice.
"Nyra…"
She froze.
"Who's there?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
The room remained silent.
The voice came again, sharper this time.
"Your blood remembers."
Nyra's hands trembled. She pressed them against her temples, trying to shake it off. I'm imagining things… It's just the stress… the battle…
But then she saw it.
The shadows along the walls began to twist. Shapes coalesced into flickering images — figures in long robes, pale eyes shining like moonlight, standing in a grand hall of stone and fire. She felt the air hum with power she didn't recognize, the same strange warmth that had pulsed through her during battle and training.
"Stop… please," she whispered, pressing her palms to her eyes.
A sharp image cut through her mind.
A young girl — her mother — cradling a baby in her arms. A red moon hung in the sky outside the window. The baby's tiny fingers glowed faintly, silver light pulsing in time with the child's heartbeat.
Nyra's chest constricted painfully. She knew that baby.
"Mother…" she whispered.
The vision shifted violently.
Now she saw a great hall filled with wolves, some human, some fully shifted. Her parents stood at the center, chanting words in a language she didn't understand. Dark figures circled them — hunters. Cold, pale men and women whose eyes glimmered with malice.
"Protect the bloodline… or it ends here…"
The words echoed in her mind like a command, a warning, a plea.
Nyra fell to her knees. Her breathing came in shallow, desperate gasps. The images didn't stop — flashes of battle, fire, sorrow, and grief streamed into her mind faster than she could comprehend.
A hand touched her shoulder.
"Nyra…"
She gasped and turned. Kael knelt beside her, his golden eyes glowing softly in concern.
"You're trembling," he said gently.
"I… I saw them," she whispered, voice shaking. "My parents… the hunters… the bloodline… Kael, I think I'm hearing them, calling me."
Kael's jaw tightened. His wolf stirred beneath the surface, alert, protective.
"You're experiencing your bloodline," he said quietly. "The Heir sees the past, the prophecy… sometimes the future."
Nyra looked at him, fear and awe swirling in her eyes. "Why me? Why now?"
"Because your power is waking," Kael replied. "And it's stronger than anything we've seen before. That's why Lucien came… that's why the hunters attacked. They sensed it."
Her hands clenched in her lap. "But it's too much. I can't control it… it's like I'm drowning inside someone else's memories."
Kael reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Then I'll be your anchor again. Breathe with me, Nyra. Let me hold you while it passes."
Nyra hesitated, then nodded, pressing herself against him. His warmth, his steady heartbeat, grounding her like before.
The visions slowed slightly, the silver light beneath her skin pulsing in time with her breathing. But a whisper lingered, faint but sharp:
"The Blood Moon Heir will rise… or fall…"
Nyra shivered. She buried her face against Kael's chest.
"I don't know if I can do this," she admitted, voice trembling.
"You already are," Kael murmured. "You survived the hunters, you controlled your power in battle, and you calmed me when I almost lost myself. That is more than anyone could ask. That is everything."
Her heart thumped painfully against his chest, and somewhere deep in the shadows of her mind, she felt the stirrings of her bloodline responding — powerful, restless, and alive.
For the first time, Nyra realized something terrifying and beautiful: she was no longer just surviving. She was awakening.
And whatever came next… she would not face it alone.