Chapter Forty-One
The first wolf turned before anyone gave the command.
It happened at dawn.
No horn.
No warning.
No enemy in sight.
Just a ripple in the bond — sharp, metallic, wrong.
Lyra’s eyes snapped open inside her chambers, heart slamming against her ribs. The bond was screaming. Not in pain.
In confusion.
She bolted upright.
Something is wrong.
Outside, a howl split the valley.
Not a battle cry.
A territorial challenge.
From inside their own perimeter.
⸻
Cain was already running when Lyra burst into the courtyard. He was half-shifted, claws tearing into stone as three wolves circled one another in a violent standoff.
They weren’t sparring.
They were snarling — hackles raised, fangs bared, eyes wild.
And the worst part?
They were from the same unit.
“Stand down!
