Chapter 6: Hunted by the Crown
718 Words
The sanctuary screamed before Lyra sensed the danger.
The moon sigils flared violently, blue light snapping through the clearing like lightning. Lyra jolted awake, breath sharp, heart pounding.
Eira was already on her feet.
“Up,” the old woman said, voice hard. “Now.”
“What is it?” Lyra asked, scrambling up.
Eira’s jaw tightened. “Hunters. Not rogues.”
Lyra’s blood ran cold. “Then who?”
Eira looked at her—long, grave. “The crown.”
Before Lyra could speak, the wards shattered.
A deafening c***k tore through the air as the standing stones split, ancient magic collapsing under brute force. Figures burst from the trees—armored wolves in human form, weapons glowing with anti-magic runes.
Royal enforcers.
“They found us,” Lyra whispered.
“No,” Eira corrected. “They followed you.”
Fear flared—but it did not paralyze her.
It sharpened her.
“Run,” Eira said, planting her staff into the ground. “I will hold them.”
“No,” Lyra said immediately. “I won’t leave you.”
Eira turned, eyes blazing. “This is not a choice, my queen.”
The first arrow flew.
Eira slammed her staff down, a wall of light erupting just in time as the arrow shattered against it. The impact sent a shockwave through the clearing.
“GO!” Eira shouted.
Lyra hesitated only a heartbeat—then obeyed.
She ran.
The forest blurred as Lyra sprinted, lungs burning, senses stretched wide. She could hear the hunters—fast, disciplined, trained.
Not like the rogues.
These wolves knew how to kill.
A snarl echoed behind her—too close.
Lyra spun, throwing her hand out instinctively. Power surged. The ground exploded upward, throwing two hunters off their feet.
She staggered, breath ragged.
Control. Eira’s voice echoed in her mind. Breathe. Don’t panic.
Lyra inhaled sharply, forcing the power back into a steady flow.
Another hunter leapt from the shadows.
Lyra shifted mid-motion.
Silver-blue fur burst free as her body changed, pain flashing briefly before strength took over. She landed on all fours, massive paws tearing into the earth as she lunged.
The hunter barely dodged.
Lyra snarled—deep, commanding.
The forest answered her call.
Roots burst from the ground, tangling legs, slamming bodies into trees. The hunters froze—not from fear alone, but from something older pressing down on them.
Authority.
“What is she?” one gasped.
Lyra didn’t answer.
She ran again.
Blood marked the ground when she finally stopped.
Not hers.
She shifted back behind a fallen tree, hands shaking as the adrenaline drained away. Her chest ached, the broken bond pulsing painfully—as if something were pulling at her from far away.
Kael.
The name burned in her mind like a curse.
“No,” she whispered fiercely. “You don’t get to find me now.”
A sudden howl split the night.
Lyra froze.
That howl was different.
Royal.
Powerful.
Her heart lurched.
“He’s close,” she breathed.
At the edge of the forest, Kael Blackthorn stood among fallen hunters, golden eyes glowing dangerously.
“What did you feel?” he demanded.
One wolf swallowed hard. “She… stopped us. Alone.”
Kael’s chest tightened—not with anger, but something darker.
Pride.
Fear.
Regret.
“She shifted,” another added. “And the forest obeyed her.”
Kael closed his eyes briefly.
The Moon Throne.
The council had been right to fear it.
Open your eyes, Kael, his wolf snarled. You rejected a queen.
“Pull back,” Kael ordered sharply.
The wolves stared at him in shock. “But, Your Majesty—”
“Now.”
They obeyed.
Kael stepped forward alone, resting his hand against a tree. The bond throbbed painfully—broken, yet burning.
“Lyra,” he murmured, voice rough. “What are you becoming?”
Deep in the forest, Lyra wrapped her arms around herself, forcing her breathing to steady.
She had been hunted by the crown.
By him.
Eira’s words echoed in her mind:
The world will force you to claim the throne—or die.
Lyra lifted her chin, eyes hardening.
“Then I’ll choose when I’m found,” she said softly.
And this time—
She would not kneel.
- Writer
