CHAPTER 8
884 Words
Rowan woke to the sound of distant voices.
At first, everything felt heavy. His body refused to cooperate, his limbs slow and aching as if he had run for days instead of hours. The scent of pine and damp earth filled his lungs when he finally managed to inhale deeply.
He opened his eyes.
A wooden ceiling greeted him.
Not the forest.
Not the clearing.
Somewhere indoors.
“Great,” Rowan muttered weakly. “Kidnapped by wolves.”
His voice came out rough.
A quiet chuckle sounded from across the room.
“You fainted,” Lyra’s voice replied calmly. “We carried you.”
Rowan slowly turned his head.
Lyra stood near a wide window, arms folded, her silhouette outlined by the pale glow of the moon outside. Her posture was relaxed, but her sharp silver eyes were studying him closely.
Marcus leaned against the wall beside the door.
“Technically,” Marcus added, “you collapsed dramatically. Very theatrical.”
Rowan groaned and pushed himself upright.
Bad idea.
Pain immediately shot through his back.
“Ah—!”
His hand instinctively moved to the burning spot between his shoulder blades.
Lyra’s expression darkened slightly.
“You’re feeling the mark.”
Rowan glared at her.
“That thing is still there?”
Marcus snorted.
“Oh yeah. It’s still there.”
Rowan sighed and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The cabin room was simple—wooden walls, a stone fireplace, and a faint scent of cedar lingering in the air.
“This is insane,” Rowan muttered.
Lyra tilted her head slightly.
“Which part?”
Rowan gestured vaguely.
“The wolf thing. The glowing tattoo. The fact that my body tried to rip itself apart in the woods.”
Marcus shrugged.
“Fair point.”
Rowan looked directly at Lyra.
“You said something earlier.”
Lyra didn’t blink.
“About the Moonborn.”
Rowan leaned forward.
“Start talking.”
The room grew quiet.
Lyra pushed away from the window and walked toward him slowly.
Each step carried the quiet confidence of someone used to command.
She stopped in front of him.
“The Moonborn,” she said, “are not ordinary wolves.”
Rowan folded his arms.
“I gathered that.”
Lyra ignored the sarcasm.
“They are born when the moon itself chooses a bloodline.”
Marcus added from the wall, “Which is why most wolves think they’re myths.”
Rowan frowned.
“But you don’t.”
Lyra shook her head.
“No.”
She gestured toward his back.
“That mark is older than every pack in this territory.”
Rowan rubbed his face.
“So let me get this straight.”
He ticked off points on his fingers.
“My mother is the Luna of the strongest werewolf pack in existence.”
Lyra nodded once.
“My body is apparently trying to turn into a wolf.”
Marcus nodded too.
“And I now have some magical moon tattoo that makes me a walking legend?”
Lyra’s expression remained calm.
“Yes.”
Rowan stared at them both.
Then he laughed.
Not a happy laugh.
The kind of laugh someone made when reality stopped making sense.
“This is unbelievable.”
Lyra studied him quietly.
“You’re taking it surprisingly well.”
Rowan stopped laughing.
“No.”
He ran a hand through his hair.
“I’m just too tired to panic right now.”
Marcus straightened slightly.
“Well… you might want to panic soon.”
Rowan looked at him.
“Why?”
Marcus glanced toward Lyra.
Lyra answered.
“Because once the Obsidian Moon Pack learns about you…”
She paused.
“They will come.”
Rowan frowned.
“Is that supposed to scare me?”
Marcus pushed himself off the wall.
“It should.”
Rowan crossed his arms again.
“Why?”
Lyra’s silver eyes held his.
“Because your mother isn’t just any Luna.”
Her voice lowered.
“She leads the strongest pack in the realm.”
Marcus added quietly,
“And they don’t like surprises.”
Rowan considered that.
Then he sighed.
“Well… that sounds like a problem for later.”
Lyra blinked.
“You’re not worried?”
Rowan shrugged.
“I spent my whole life wondering who my mother was.”
He looked directly at her.
“I’m not running away now.”
Something in his voice made Lyra pause.
It wasn’t arrogance.
It was resolve.
Marcus noticed it too.
“Well,” Marcus said slowly, “you definitely have her stubbornness.”
Rowan raised an eyebrow.
“You’ve met her?”
Lyra nodded.
“Several times.”
Rowan leaned forward again.
“And?”
Lyra’s lips curved slightly.
“She’s terrifying.”
Marcus laughed.
“That’s putting it mildly.”
Rowan rubbed the back of his neck.
“Fantastic. My long-lost mother is apparently a nightmare.”
Lyra shook her head slightly.
“No.”
Rowan looked up.
“She’s a leader,” Lyra said quietly.
“Which means the moment she hears about you…”
Marcus finished the sentence.
“She’ll come herself.”
Rowan exhaled slowly.
“That’s what I’m hoping.”
Lyra studied him again.
“You might not feel the same way once you meet her.”
- Writer
