6. Lyra
1450 Words
Morning in the Yulefang stronghold felt nothing like morning in Darkbane. The air here was colder in a way that crawled under the skin and settled at the base of the spine, as if the walls themselves remembered every life taken within them. The corridors were wide, carved from black stone veined with ice, and the ceilings arched like the ribs of some ancient beast. Lanterns burned with white-blue flame instead of gold, casting long shadows that moved when I didn’t.
I dressed quickly, ignoring the way my wolf kept replaying last night—Aeron’s trembling breath, the way his pupils had blown wide when I pressed my palm to his, the heat of his voice when he confessed the bond, the curse, the dying truth he’d carried all this time. My palm still tingled faintly with the echo of my rune against his skin. I didn’t need to look to know the energy would follow me through the day.
I stepped into the hallway expecting morning bustle, or at least the hum of servants making preparations for the Blood-Moon festivities. Instead, silence coated the air like a warning. Three torches flickered unevenly. Every sound—the soft crunch of frost under my boots, the faint groan of ancient wood—seemed too loud, too exposed. It felt like walking into a darkened room where someone had already chosen the hiding spots.
I hadn’t taken ten steps before I caught the first scent: wolf, unfamiliar, laced with a metallic dominance that prickled the back of my tongue. It didn’t belong to any guard I’d seen yesterday. The scent threaded down the hall, then vanished abruptly near a staircase that wound toward the west wing.
I continued forward, shoulders squared, breath steady. I wasn’t prey—but someone clearly wanted me to feel like one.
Descending to the lower level, I found myself in a long gallery lined with carved stone statues of past Yulefang alphas. Each figure was positioned to stare directly at whoever walked through, which made the skin between my shoulder blades itch. Their eyes were ringed with carved runes that pulsed faintly when I passed, as if measuring me, judging me. My wolf prowled just beneath my skin, ready to tear free if needed.
A soft scrape echoed behind one of the statues. Not an accident. Not clumsy. Intentional.
I stopped in front of a statue of an alpha whose fanged snarl had been carved with almost reverent detail. Without turning my head, I said, “If you’re planning to attack me, do it from the front. Unless cowardice runs in Yulefang blood now.”
There was no verbal answer. Only a shift of air—someone exhaling in irritation—and then silence thickened again.
I moved on.
The gallery opened into a massive atrium where frost clung to the rafters, and crystalline chandeliers hung like frozen stars. One wall was glass from floor to ceiling, giving a view of the forested cliffside and the storm rolling in beyond. The space should have been beautiful. Instead, it was empty in a way that felt designed, as though the entire stronghold had rearranged itself overnight with the sole intent of isolating me.
A new scent hit me the moment I crossed the threshold.
Two wolves this time, both older, both powerful. One male, one female. Rank high. Blood thick with loyalty and territorial pride. Their scents formed a circle around me, subtle but deliberate, and my wolf bared her mental teeth at the intrusion.
I didn’t stop walking until I reached the balcony overlooking the cliff. The cold sank immediately through my cloak, searing a line down my spine. My breath misted white and sharp in front of me. I placed my hands on the railing, letting the freezing metal cool the frustration simmering beneath my skin.
The first voice came from the shadows behind a marble pillar. Deep, steady, controlled. “You move freely for someone who should be cautious.”
The second voice was female, colder, its cadence shaped by years of command. “Princess Darkbane. It is… interesting that you walk these halls as if they welcome you.”
I turned slowly.
The two wolves stepped into view. The male was tall, built like a wall of muscle and weather-worn experience, his black hair streaked with frost-gray. The woman beside him was striking and severe, her braid falling down her spine like a whip. Both wore ceremonial Yulefang armor—polished ice-iron plates engraved with their clan sigils.
And both looked at me as though I were the thread that could unravel their world.
“I wasn’t aware I needed permission to walk down a hallway,” I said.
“You don’t,” the woman replied, her eyes narrowing. “But you should be aware of the consequences of being seen.”
“The pack talks,” the man added. “They watched your arrival. They smelled what you stirred in our Alpha last night.”
My jaw clenched. “Whatever you think you know—”
“We know he is weaker today,” the woman cut in. “We know the curse has flared. And we know you are the reason.”
Heat licked up the back of my neck. Not anger. Something older. Primal. My wolf paced, hackles rising.
“You think I came here to kill him?” I asked quietly.
“You came here as the prophecy’s trigger,” the man said. “As the reason he is dying.”
What a convenient story. Blame the girl who returned after ten years, not the Alpha who broke the bond and carried the consequences. Blame the prophecy, blame Darkbane, blame anyone but the reality they refused to face.
I stepped toward them.
One step. Another.
Neither moved.
Good.
“You want to know the truth?” My voice came out low, deliberately controlled. “Your Alpha was dying before I crossed your borders. My presence didn’t cause it. It only revealed how close to the edge he already is.”
The man’s brows twitched, but the woman stayed stone-faced.
“And you,” I added, locking eyes with her, “weren’t there ten years ago. You didn’t see how desperate he was to please you. Your laws. Your traditions. Your precious bloodline.”
For the first time, the woman’s expression cracked—thin, but real.
Excellent.
I kept going. “He rejected his mate to protect your alliance. Your politics. Your pride. And it is killing him. So if you think challenging me will change your fate, you’re mistaken.”
The male wolf stepped closer until his breath mingled with mine, hot and sharp with territorial dominance. “You speak as if you mean to stay.”
“I speak,” I said evenly, “as someone who isn’t afraid of being tested.”
He studied me for a long moment. Then he reached up, twisted the runic clasp at his collar, and dropped a weight into my hand. A small iron token, carved with the Yulefang crest—a fang piercing a star.
A challenge token.
A formal acknowledgment: she is being watched. She is being judged. She is being tested—and must survive it.
The woman leaned in. “You will be evaluated throughout the day. Wherever you walk, whatever you do. Yulefang wolves will be watching. If you falter, we will know. If you lie, we will scent it. And if your presence harms our Alpha further…” Her eyes glinted like ice catching blood. “We will not wait for Christmas Eve to act.”
I closed my hand around the token, letting the cold bite into my palm the way their hostility bit into the air.
“Then watch closely,” I said. “You might learn something.”
They stared at me as if trying to determine whether I’d just issued a threat or a promise. Good. Let them wonder. Let them hunt. Let them see exactly what kind of creature Darkbane had shaped me into.
As they disappeared back into the shadows, the scents of other wolves stirred through the atrium—young warriors prowling along the mezzanine, elders settling into alcoves and pretending they weren’t looking, guards stepping aside as if granting space but never giving distance. They were tracking me openly now, circling without closing in, calculating what kind of enemy or weapon I might be.
Fine.
If Yulefang wanted to stalk me through their halls, I would make every step worth the chase.
I turned back to the balcony, the storm rolling closer, the air electric with prophecy and danger.
This was the beginning.
And I would not run.
- Writer
