CHAPTER 1 — THE HUMAN AMONG WOLVES
The wolf changed shape with an ease that almost made Lydia forget what she was seeing. There was no cry, no struggle, nothing dramatic about it. One moment there was a wolf standing before her; the next, a human being stood in its place.
Lydia stood across the medical hall, eyes never missing a thing. She watched the warrior’s spine contort, his bones c***k and settle like they were just stretching out after a nap. His skin shimmered, fur unfurled—silver-gray waves chasing each other. For a split second, he was both man and wolf, stuck somewhere in between. Beautiful, terrifying, strange as anything. Then, just like that—it was over. Where a man had been, a huge wolf stood, sides heaving.
Not a single sound. That’s what made them different.
“Rest it for two days,” Lydia said, not looking up from her work on another young warrior. He sat across from her, arm extended. His wrist was already knitting itself back together—werewolf perk. Still, Lydia wrapped it up, her hands remembering every step. She could’ve done this blindfolded.
The kid hopped off the cot before she finished tying off the bandage, eyes fixed on the training field just beyond the tall windows.
She just watched him go.
Outside, the autumn sun spilled through the tall windows, catching the dust that hung lazily in the air.
The hall felt strangely empty. Most of the pack had gone into the forest, running free where no one could see them. Lydia caught bits of it: a warrior leaping mid-sprint, body morphing in a flash, four legs pounding the ground with barely a break in pace. There was a young woman, upright and howling loud enough to raise the dead. Chills rushed down Lydia’s arms, and soon a whole chorus of wolves threw their voices back.
Twenty-two years she'd been here, and still, that sound cut right through her. Always reminded her of the wolf she didn’t have. Like something missing deep down—a limb that would never grow in.
A door slammed.
Elena burst through it, breathless, with strands of red hair falling loose from her braid. She wore leathers, definitely just back from a run, grinning wide when she spotted Lydia. “Well, look at you,” Elena teased. "Actually working for once. I was sure you’d bail early today."
Lydia turned away from the glass.
There was something about Elena Sinclair that drew the eye without her ever seeming to try. She carried herself with an easy confidence, always moving, always full of energy. And when she looked at you, there was a warmth in her expression that made the whole room feel a little less dull.
“And where would I go?” Lydia shot back, an eyebrow raised.
Elena’s grin softened—something passed over her face. Not pity. Worse, really.
“Come with me,” Elena said, crossing the hall at her usual speed, grabbing Lydia’s wrist. “You need to leave this place for a while. Don’t you feel it?”
Something had shifted in the air. Lydia could feel it, even if she couldn't put her finger on what had changed. There was a tension hanging over the hall, thick enough to make her uneasy. The elders had been whispering among themselves all morning. Everywhere she looked, the pack seemed on edge, as though everyone knew something she didn't. Whatever message had reached them, Lydia couldn't seem to make sense of it.
“Feel what?”
“The Lunar Convergence,” Elena said. “Tonight.”
That rang a bell. She’d heard about it—stories swapped in the small hours, old whispers. But Elena said it like it was something you felt in your bones.
“I know it,” Lydia tried. “It’s rare, right?”
Elena snorted. “Rare? Come on, Lyd, it happens once in a hundred years. The Moon Goddess draws near, all the stars line up. Biggest night for werewolves, period.” She looked at Lydia. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you any old stories?”
That was the jab that always found its mark—the gap her mother left behind. Lydia’s mom was human, gone so early most memories just drifted and slipped through her fingers. A laugh here, the scent of jasmine, a feeling of being safe, nothing solid left.
“No,” Lydia said, softly.
Elena’s grip relaxed. “Come tonight. Everybody’ll be there. You’re pack, Lyd. You belong.”
Nice words, but not entirely true.
“I don’t have a wolf,” Lydia said. She’d fought this battle a thousand times. “Why would I go? What’s a human supposed to do on a night like this?”
“You’re not just human,” Elena said, sharp and serious. “You’re pack. You heal us, you’re here with us. That matters.”
Lydia didn’t answer. Elena was practically buzzing, and the news felt like it was meant to shake the walls.
"What time?" Lydia asked, knowing she’d say yes. She always did.
“Moonrise,” Elena said, a warning bell in her voice. "Wear something that means something to you. Something nice.”
Before Lydia could ask what Elena meant, the door swung open with a sharp bang.
A Sentinel walked in—one of the warriors. His eyes glinted that eerie wolf-silver. He glanced between them, settling on Lydia a beat longer.
“The Lunar Convergence begins at moonrise,” he announced. “Every pack member is required.”
Elena squeezed Lydia’s hand and slipped out. “See you there. Remember—dress up.”
And that was that. Lydia stood alone in the medical hall. The messenger was gone, and the last of the sunlight stretched across the floor in long, pale bands.
Moonrise. She couldn't explain it, but something was coming. She felt it deep in her stomach—a dull ache, almost like longing for something she couldn't name, let alone reach.
Maybe it was hope. Maybe just the old ache, pretending to be hope. Lydia wouldn’t know, not really, until the moon climbed high.
