Lyra woke before dawn.
The forest outside the packhouse was unnaturally still, the air too sharp, too quiet. Even the wind seemed to whisper of danger. Her heart drummed uneasily, as if it already knew the morning would not bring peace.
She slipped from bed, padding barefoot across the cold floorboards. Through her window, she could see the waning moon—a silver scar in the sky, fading but fierce. Only three nights remained before the Full Moon Ritual, the one that could seal her fate to Lucian’s forever.
Aelira stirred inside her mind, restless and alert.
“The world feels wrong,” her wolf murmured. “Something’s shifting.”
Lyra nodded silently. She could feel it too—the tension that clung to the air, thick as mist. The forest animals hadn’t sung at all that night, and even the trees se
