SILVER SHADOWS

CHAPTER 2: COLLISION IN THE MIST

The days after Elara saved her blurred together. They weren’t terrible—just slightly less painful. Lyra Thorne still carried the weight of her stepmother’s scowls, the classmates’ whispers, and teachers’ pitying glances. People still saw her as fragile, weak, someone meant to be overlooked.

At the academy, Vanessa’s sneers followed her. “Always dreaming, Lyra? You’d crumble at the first real challenge.”

Lyra clenched her fists under the desk, cheeks burning. She wanted to answer, to prove them wrong, but the words stuck in her throat. She had learned long ago that no one would ever see her as strong.

After class, Elara had been called to a debate meeting. “I’ll catch up later—promise!” she said, flashing a grin. Lyra nodded, forcing a smile as Elara disappeared into the crowd.

The forest path home felt alive with mist and shadow. Most townsfolk avoided it at dusk, whispering stories of wolves and curses. Lyra had always laughed at them. Tonight, alone and lost in thought, the forest felt almost… inviting.

She wandered off the main road, leaves crunching beneath her boots. Why am I so weak? she wondered. Elara saves me… but what if she isn’t there next time?

The trees narrowed overhead, mist thickening. Her mind drifted to dreams she couldn’t forget: silver wolves racing under a blood moon, eyes glowing, shadows shifting. One figure had touched her in the dream… and she had felt something forbidden. She shook her head. “Get a grip, Lyra,” she whispered. Her words vanished in the fog.

Then—thump. She collided with something solid. Strong hands gripped her arms.

“Watch where you’re going,” a deep, rough voice said, edged with irritation and something… primal.

Lyra looked up. The man before her was tall, broad, and alive in the way Silverwood’s shadows weren’t. Dark tousled hair framed a sharp face. Amber eyes caught hers and held her there.

“I-I’m sorry,” she stammered, stepping back. “I… I didn’t see you.”

He let go slowly, studying her like he could see the bruises and fear she tried to hide. “You shouldn’t be out here alone,” he said. “The forest isn’t safe for… people like you.”

Lyra bristled. “I can handle myself.” Her voice was small but defiant. Is that true? she wondered.

A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “Handle yourself? In the mist, wandering, daydreaming? The woods have eyes. Not all friendly.”

“Who… who are you?” she asked.

He paused, listening. Muscles tensed. “Dante. I live nearby. You?”

“Lyra. Lyra Thorne.” She offered a hand. Their fingers brushed. Heat flared in her chest, a strange spark she didn’t understand.

Dante’s amber eyes flicked with something unreadable. “Thorne? From the town? You shouldn’t be here. Go back.” He didn’t step away, though—drawn to her anyway.

The mist swirled, and Lyra felt a pull she didn’t question. She spoke, small and hurried, sharing fragments of her misery: stepmother’s cruelty, classmates’ mockery, the feeling of being invisible.

Dante listened, expression shifting. “You’ve got fire,” he said finally. “Don’t let them snuff it out.”

He spoke of the forest too, veiled warnings of rival packs and dangers, life raw and unkind. “Strength and loyalty matter… and sometimes choices you shouldn’t make,” he said. His gaze lingered, protective and unnervingly intense.

A growl echoed from deeper in the trees. Dante stiffened, muscles coiled. “Go. Now. Head back. Run if you have to.”

Lyra’s heart jumped. “What was that?”

“Nothing you want to meet. Go,” he said, softer now. “But we’ll meet again, Lyra. Stay strong.”

She ran, boots slipping on wet leaves, heart pounding. Back in town, Elara noticed the change. “What happened? You look… different.”

Lyra told some of it, leaving out the spark, leaving out the pull. Elara’s knowing look lingered—a shared secret stirring.

Dante watched from the treeline, conflicted. One meeting had begun a story neither could ignore: danger, adventure, and something forbidden pulling them together. Shadows were calling. Lyra was stepping into them.