CHAPTER 7
603 Words
Lyra moved closer but didn’t touch him.
“What’s happening?”
Rowan clenched his teeth.
“I don’t—know!”
Then it happened.
A deep growl tore from his throat.
His fingers dug into the tree bark.
And his nails—
Extended.
Not fully into claws.
But sharp.
Predatory.
Lyra’s wolf stirred uneasily inside her.
There it is.
Rowan collapsed to one knee again.
His shirt stretched tightly across his back as his muscles shifted beneath the skin.
His eyes flashed briefly—
Gold.
Then normal again.
“What… is wrong… with me?” he growled.
Lyra stepped closer cautiously.
“You’re shifting.”
Rowan barked a strained laugh.
“Yeah? Because this doesn’t feel like some cool party trick!”
Another surge of energy rippled through his body.
His shirt tore slightly across the shoulder.
Lyra’s eyes narrowed.
Something was forming on his skin.
At first it looked like dark veins spreading across his shoulder blade.
Then the lines deepened.
Glowing faintly.
Silver.
Rowan felt it too.
A burning sensation across his back.
“Lyra…” he rasped.
“What is that?”
She didn’t answer immediately.
Because what she was seeing made her blood run cold.
The glowing lines on Rowan’s back were forming a symbol.
Ancient.
Beautiful.
Terrifying.
A crescent moon wrapped in claw-like markings that radiated outward like a celestial crest.
The mark pulsed faintly with silver light.
Lyra stepped back instinctively.
“That’s impossible.”
Rowan tried to twist his head to see.
“What?!”
Lyra stared at him in disbelief.
“That mark…”
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“Only the Moonborn carry it.”
Rowan blinked.
“The what?”
Lyra’s mind raced.
The Moonborn were not ordinary wolves.
They were legends.
Ancient beings said to be directly blessed by the moon itself.
Powerful enough to command wolves without being Alpha.
Rare enough that most packs believed they no longer existed.
Yet the symbol glowing on Rowan’s back was unmistakable.
Marcus burst through the trees then, shifting back to human form mid-stride.
“Lyra I—”
He froze.
“Holy—”
His eyes locked onto Rowan’s back.
“You see it too?” Lyra asked quietly.
Marcus nodded slowly.
“The Moonborn Crest.”
Rowan groaned.
“Can someone please explain why my spine feels like it's on fire?”
Lyra looked at him again.
Her silver eyes filled with something new.
Not just curiosity.
Respect.
Concern.
And a faint spark of fear.
“Rowan,” she said quietly.
“You didn’t just inherit your mother’s wolf.”
Rowan frowned weakly.
“Great.”
Lyra met his gaze.
“You inherited something far older.”
Marcus rubbed the back of his neck.
“Well… that explains a lot.”
Rowan glared at him.
“Explains what?!”
Marcus sighed.
“Congratulations.”
Rowan’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
“On what?”
Marcus gestured toward his back.
“You might be one of the rarest beings in the werewolf world.”
Rowan stared at them both.
Then groaned.
“Fantastic.”
He collapsed onto the forest floor.
“I just wanted to find my mother.”
Lyra knelt beside him slowly.
Her voice softened slightly.
“You still will.”
Rowan looked up at her tiredly.
“How?”
Lyra’s silver eyes darkened.
“Because once the Obsidian Moon Pack hears about you…”
She paused.
“They’ll come looking for you.”
Marcus nodded grimly.
“And trust me,” he added.
“That’s when the real trouble begins.” That was the last thing Rowan heard before passing out.
- Writer
