The walk back to the packhouse felt longer than the battle itself. Wolves trudged through the forest in silence, carrying the wounded and dragging their dead. The scent of iron hung heavy in the night air, mingled with the faint sting of smoke still clinging to Lyra’s hair and clothes. Every step made her legs ache, yet the weight pressing on her chest was heavier than fatigue.
She had saved them—she knew she had—but she had also revealed something she could never take back. The flames that had erupted from her body still burned in her mind, licking through the shadows of memory. She hadn’t known she was capable of such power until it had poured out of her, wild and consuming.
And the pack had seen it too.
Some glanced at her with awe, bowing their heads slightly as she passed with Luci
