To Yearn & Burn For Him

Chapter One: The Moon Knows My Name The Crimson Woods hum with secrets tonight, their gnarled branches clawing at the sky like they’re trying to snatch the moon. My boots sink into the damp earth, and my breath catches as the air turns sharp, heavy with the scent of pine and something darker—blood, maybe, or the memory of it. I’m not supposed to be here, not alone, not with the pack on edge after last week’s wraith attack. But the rune on my collarbone burns, a pulse that feels alive, urging me deeper into the trees. It’s been like this since Ronan left four years ago, since the boy who called me his shadow walked away without a backward glance. I’m accessori, my heart hammering. The pack thinks I’m reckless, coming out here alone. Maybe they’re right. But I can’t stay away. The woods call me, like they know my name. A twig snaps behind me, and I spin, my hand gripping the dagger at my hip. My pulse races, but it’s only Kael, the pack’s beta, stepping into the moonlight. His blond hair glints silver, and his green eyes narrow, sharp as a blade. “Lyra, what the hell are you doing out here?” His voice is low, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s holding back a growl. “You trying to get yourself killed?” I straighten, forcing a smirk. “Worried about me, Kael? That’s new.” He steps closer, too close, his height forcing me to tilt my head up. At nineteen, I’m not short, but Kael’s got a good five inches on me. “Don’t play cute,” he says. “The wraiths are getting bolder. You know that.” “Yeah, I was there when they attacked,” I snap, my fingers brushing the rune on my collarbone. It’s warm, tingling, like it’s listening. “I can handle myself.” Kael’s jaw tightens. “You’re not invincible, Lyra. That mark of yours doesn’t make you a god.” I flinch, my hand dropping. Nobody talks about the rune. Not directly. It’s like they think ignoring it’ll make it go away. “I don’t think I’m a god,” I say, my voice softer than I mean it to be. “I just… I need to know what it is.” His eyes soften, just a fraction, and for a second, I think he might actually care. “You’re chasing ghosts,” he says. “Whatever happened in that clearing fourteen years ago, it’s done. You’re one of us now.” One of us. The words sting, because I’ve never felt like one of the Silverfang Pack. Not really. They took me in, sure, but the whispers follow me everywhere—the girl with no past, the girl with the mark. Even Magnus and Elira, who raised me like their own, look at me sometimes like I’m a puzzle they can’t solve. “Come back to the settlement,” Kael says, his tone gentler now. “It’s not safe.” I open my mouth to argue when a howl splits the air, long and mournful. My blood runs cold. Kael’s head snaps toward the sound, his body tensing. “That’s not one of ours,” he mutters. Another howl, closer this time, and the rune on my collarbone flares, hot enough to make me gasp. I stumble back, my hand clutching the mark. It’s never done that before. “What the—” “Lyra, move!” Kael grabs my arm, yanking me behind a tree as something crashes through the underbrush. My heart pounds as I peer around the trunk. In the moonlight, a shadow moves—too big to be a wolf, too fast to be human. Its eyes glow like dying coals, and its claws glint, sharp as death. A wraith. “Stay down,” Kael whispers, his dagger already in hand. “I’ve got this.” “No way,” I hiss, drawing my own blade. “I’m not hiding.” He shoots me a look, half-exasperation, half-something else I can’t read. “You’re gonna get us both killed.” “Then don’t babysit me,” I snap, my voice shaking despite myself. The wraith’s head swivels, its gaze locking onto us. My rune burns hotter, and a strange heat coils in my chest, like fire waiting to spark. I don’t know what’s happening to me, but I’m not letting Kael fight alone. The wraith lunges, faster than I expect, its claws slashing through the air. Kael dives forward, his blade meeting its side with a sickening crunch. I move without thinking, my dagger slicing into its flank. It shrieks, a sound that makes my skin crawl, and swipes at me. I dodge, barely, my back slamming against a tree. “Lyra!” Kael shouts, tackling the wraith to the ground. They roll, a blur of claws and steel, and I’m frozen, my rune pulsing so hard I can barely breathe. That heat in my chest surges, and my hands tremble, sparking with—flames? Tiny flickers dance across my fingers, and I stare, horrified. What am I? The wraith screams again, and Kael drives his dagger into its chest. It dissolves into smoke, leaving nothing but a faint stench of ash. He’s panting, blood dripping from a cut on his cheek, and he turns to me, his eyes wide. “Did you just…?” I clench my fists, the flames gone as quickly as they came. “I don’t know,” I whisper, my voice breaking. My heart’s racing, and I can’t tell if it’s fear or something else—something alive inside me. Kael grabs my shoulders, his grip tight. “Lyra, what was that? Your hands—” “I said I don’t know!” I shove him off, my chest heaving. The rune’s still burning, and the woods feel too quiet now, like they’re holding their breath. “Don’t tell anyone, okay? Please.” He stares at me, his jaw tight, then nods once. “Fine. But you’re not coming out here alone again. Got it?” I don’t answer, because I know I won’t listen. I can’t. Not when the woods are calling, not when my own body’s betraying me with fire I can’t explain. We head back to the settlement in silence, the moonlight casting long shadows. My mind’s spinning—Ronan’s gone, the wraiths are hunting, and now this. Fire. My rune. The prophecy the elders whisper about when they think I’m not listening. The girl with no origin will ignite the fall of kings. I shake my head, trying to shove it away. I’m not that girl. I can’t be. The settlement’s lights flicker in the distance, a cluster of cabins and stone walls nestled against the edge of the Crimson Woods. Magnus and Elira’s house is the biggest, its windows glowing warm. I hesitate at the gate, Kael’s presence heavy beside me. “You go in,” he says, his voice low. “I’ll report the wraith to Magnus.” “You’re not gonna tell him about…” I trail off, my hand hovering over my collarbone. He looks at me, his eyes unreadable. “Not yet. But you need to figure this out, Lyra. Fast.” I nod, my throat tight, and slip through the gate. The pack’s out tonight, their laughter and chatter spilling from the common hall. I avoid it, heading for the house. I need to be alone, to think, to— “Lyra?” I freeze at the sound of Elira’s voice, soft but firm, from the porch. She’s standing there, her braids glinting in the light, her amber eyes searching mine. “Where were you?” she asks, stepping closer. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” I force a laugh, but it sounds wrong, brittle. “Just… walking. Couldn’t sleep.” She frowns, her hand reaching for mine. “You’re shaking, sweetheart. What happened?” I pull back, my rune throbbing. “Nothing. I’m fine.” The lie tastes bitter, and her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t push. She never does. That’s what makes it worse—her trust, her love, when I’m keeping secrets even I don’t understand. “Go rest,” she says gently. “We’ll talk in the morning.” I nod, slipping inside, my heart pounding. The house is quiet, too quiet, and I head to my room, locking the door behind me. My reflection catches my eye in the mirror—golden eyes, too bright, too old for my face. I tug my shirt aside, staring at the rune. It’s glowing faintly, like it’s alive. My fingers trace it, and that heat flares again, a spark flickering in my palm. I snuff it out, my breath hitching. I’m not a monster. I’m not. A knock at my window makes me jump, and I spin, my dagger in hand. The glass is dark, but a shadow moves outside, tall and broad-shouldered. My heart stops, because I know that silhouette, even after four years. “Lyra,” a voice calls, low and rough, like gravel and pain. Ronan. I fumble with the window, my hands shaking as I shove it open. He’s there, in the moonlight, his gray eyes haunted, his face scarred and harder than I remember. Black veins snake up his arms, and he’s looking at me like I’m the only thing keeping him alive. “Ronan,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “You’re back.” He doesn’t smile, doesn’t move closer. “We need to talk,” he says, his voice tight. “Now.” My rune burns, and that heat in my chest sparks again, brighter, hotter. He sees it—his eyes widen, and something like fear flickers across his face. “Lyra, what have you done?” I can’t breathe, can’t think. He’s here, after all this time, and he’s looking at me like I’m a stranger. A monster. The woods hum behind him, and a faint howl echoes, too close. “Ronan, what’s happening to me?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper. He steps closer, his hand reaching for mine, then stopping short. “It’s not safe here,” he says, his eyes darting to the woods. “They’re coming for you.” A crash in the trees cuts him off, and the rune on my collarbone flares, bright as a star. Shadows move, too many, their eyes glowing like embers. Wraiths. More than I’ve ever seen. “Lyra, run!” Ronan growls, his body shifting, black veins pulsing as his wolf form begins to take over. But I can’t run. The fire in my hands ignites, and I’m not sure if I’m the hunter or the prey.