Chapter Two
1163 Words
Lyra POV
The snow swallowed the sound of my footsteps as I left the streetlights behind. My suitcase wheels kept snagging on frozen slush, rattling like they were as exhausted as I was. I didn’t have a destination in mind. Just distance. Space. Air that didn’t taste like heartbreak.
My body felt numb in that way where you can’t tell if it’s the cold or the pain or both working together. The world around me was just a blur of white, street lamps glowing like cold moons, breath fogging the air in sharp puffs.
Without thinking, I drifted toward the only place in town that had ever felt remotely like mine.
The park.
My park.
The one spot that didn’t look at me like I was a disappointment in human form.
The gate was half-buried in snow, the old iron arch dusted in frost. I pushed through it, shoulders hunched, suitcase thumping behind me, wheels squeaking pitifully.
The trees towered overhead, heavy with snow, bending like they were listening. The world felt too quiet. Too still. A silence that hummed under my skin.
I took a shaky breath and kept walking down the familiar path.
This place used to feel comforting — like a small escape from everything. But tonight, something felt off. The air had an edge to it, sharp and wrong. Every sound echoed too widely, too hollow. Even the wind sounded like it was holding its breath.
My boots crunched in the freshly fallen snow. That was the only sound. My heartbeat was loud enough to hear in my ears, uneven, skipping.
I stopped near the bench I always sat on — my so-called safe place. I dropped my suitcase beside it and sat down, fingers shaking, chest tight with everything I’d been refusing to feel all day.
My boyfriend cheating.
My life unraveling.
The endless stream of bad luck that felt less like coincidence and more like a curse carved into my bones.
It all slammed into me at once.
My breath hitched, and I pressed my hands to my face, trying to steady myself. But the cold seeped through my gloves, through my skin, curling into my spine.
Something was wrong.
More wrong than my heartbreak.
More wrong than the day from hell.
My entire body prickled with awareness, like someone was watching me.
I dropped my hands and glanced around.
Snow fell softly, swirling under the glow of the lampposts. The park looked empty — just trees, shadows, and white. But the air felt tight. Too tight.
A shiver crawled over me.
I wasn’t alone.
Some instinct I didn’t know I had lit up in my chest, sharp and urgent. I stood slowly, fingers numb on the bench, eyes scanning the tree line.
“Hello?” My voice sounded small. Dead quiet.
The universe did not answer me with kindness.
A twig snapped somewhere behind me.
I spun. My breath hitched violently as something moved between the trees — dark fur, low shape, glowing eyes reflecting pale blue in the moonlight.
A wolf.
Not the normal kind you see in pictures or kids’ books.
This one was bigger.
Much bigger.
It stepped forward, slow and deliberate, snow crunching under massive paws. Its breath fogged in thick clouds, teeth flashing as it snarled.
My heart slammed against my ribs so hard it hurt. My entire body locked up.
Run.
My brain screamed it.
My legs wouldn’t listen.
The wolf growled, deep and guttural, and something inside me broke loose. I turned sharply and bolted down the path, snow flying behind me. My suitcase toppled over, forgotten.
Branches whipped past. My lungs burned. My boots skidded on slick patches of ice. Behind me, the wolf charged, paws pounding, breath harsh.
I could hear it gaining.
A sharp pain tore across my arm as something scraped me — claws or teeth, I wasn’t sure. I screamed, stumbling, catching myself on frozen ground. My glove tore. Warm blood hit the cold air, steaming.
The scent seemed to throw the wolf into a frenzy.
It lunged.
I turned, slipping, falling back into the snow just as the massive shape crashed down at me. Teeth snapped inches from my face. I raised my arm in pure instinct, bracing for the end—
And then something else hit it.
A blur — fast, heavy, brutal.
A second wolf slammed into the first with bone-shaking force. They rolled across the snow in a whirl of fur, snarling violently. The newcomer was even larger, darker, radiating a terrifying power that felt almost… electric.
They fought savagely — teeth clashing, claws tearing into snow and bark. The rogue wolf tried to retreat but was overtaken instantly, pinned, then dragged across the clearing with impossible strength.
I stared, frozen, blood dripping from my arm, breath shallow and rapid.
The dark wolf turned.
Eyes like burning steel locked onto mine.
Not hungry.
Not feral.
Something else entirely.
I tried to scramble back, slipping in the snow, but the wolf approached slowly, controlled, lowering its head like it was trying not to scare me — which was ridiculous, because I was already petrified.
The air around it shimmered.
A sound ripped through the clearing — bones shifting, cracking, reshaping in a way that made my stomach lurch. Fur receded. Limbs elongated. The wolf twisted, warped, until a man stood where the beast had been, breath steaming in the cold.
A man I recognized.
My best friend’s father.
My voice caught in my throat. “W–what… how…?”
He didn’t move closer. Didn’t reach for me. His chest rose and fell sharply, like shifting had taken something from him. Snow clung to his hair, his jaw tight, eyes locked on me with something fierce and unreadable.
“Lyra.” His voice was rough, deeper than usual. “You’re hurt.”
I glanced at my arm, barely aware of the blood, barely aware of anything except the way the world had suddenly cracked open.
He took one slow step toward me.
And something sparked — a sudden jolt under my skin, like lightning flaring in my veins.
I gasped.
His expression changed instantly, eyes widening, posture going rigid as if he’d just been hit with the same shock.
“No,” he breathed. Not to me — to himself. Like he was arguing with fate.
The cold was creeping up my body fast now, vision tunneling. My legs shook, giving out beneath me, and I sank into the snow.
He moved then — faster than I could track — catching me before I hit the ground. His touch was warm. Too warm.
“Lyra,” he whispered, voice tight with something I didn’t understand. “I need you to stay awake.”
But I was dizzy. Fading. The world dimmed at the edges.
My last thought before everything went dark was simple.
This wasn’t bad luck.
This was something else.
Something I never should’ve stepped into that park to find.
- Writer
