“The Bite”
1944 Words
The sun was still gone by the time Kael found her again.
Lyra sat on the edge of a half-broken stone wall near the outer woods, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. The mark on her wrist had stopped glowing, but it hadn’t faded. It never faded.
Her name—Asha Blackthorn—echoed through her mind over and over, but it meant nothing to her.
Still… something deep inside her clenched every time she heard it.
She didn’t hear Kael approach, but she felt it—like the air dropped five degrees the moment he entered it.
“You should’ve run,” he said.
She turned her head. He stood a few feet away, arms folded, eyes unreadable.
Lyra’s voice came out small. “Why? Would you have chased me?”
“Yes,” he said without hesitation.
A long silence passed.
“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” she asked. “Like you know me. Like you hate me.”
Kael didn’t move. “Because I do.”
That should’ve scared her. But it didn’t. What scared her more was how calm he sounded—like he’d accepted it a long time ago.
“I’m not this… Asha,” she said.
“You are,” he said. “And the mark proves it.”
Lyra looked down at her wrist, then back at him. “I don’t remember anything. Not my life. Not this place. Not you.”
Kael stepped closer.
“But your wolf does,” he said.
Her pulse jumped. “What does that mean?”
“It means I’ve seen this before. A soul that comes back. Not often. Not like this.”
He looked down at the dirt beside her, then back into her eyes.
“You were a killer in your past life. A hunter. You slaughtered shifters—my people—without mercy.”
Lyra shook her head. “That’s not me.”
Kael’s jaw tightened. “Then prove it.”
She stood, unsteady. “How?”
He raised his voice—not loud, but deep enough that it carried.
“Trial by moonlight,” he said. “Tonight.”
A shout went up in the distance. Somewhere, someone had been listening.
“What does that mean?” she asked, stepping back.
Kael’s expression didn’t change.
“You shift. You fight. You survive. Or you die.”
Lyra followed in silence.
The path through the woods twisted and narrowed, lit only by torches stabbed into the earth. Each flicker of fire made the trees look alive, like they were leaning in to watch. She didn’t ask where they were going—Kael had already said enough.
She would fight tonight.
Even if she didn’t know how.
Rhea met them at the edge of the path, her face tight with worry. “This is madness,” she said, stepping in front of Kael. “She hasn’t shifted before.”
“She will,” Kael replied coldly.
“She could die.”
He didn’t flinch. “Then we’ll know she wasn’t strong enough.”
Lyra’s stomach turned. “Strong enough for what?”
“To control the thing inside you,” Kael said. “Or let it control you.”
Rhea turned to her. “You don’t have to do this.”
Lyra looked from one to the other. “If I don’t?”
Kael didn’t answer.
But Rhea did. “They’ll tear you apart.”
That was answer enough.
Lyra swallowed. Her throat was dry, her hands cold. But she nodded.
“Then I do it.”
Kael gave no praise, no encouragement. Just turned and kept walking.
The path widened, and the forest opened into a hollow space surrounded by high stone walls. A circular arena. Cracked pillars stood like bones jutting from the earth. Moss and blood stained the floor.
The pack was already waiting.
They stood along the edges—some perched on rocks, others leaning on weapons. The mood was tense. Hungry. Watching.
At the center of the ring stood a man with short-cropped hair and a long knife strapped to his thigh.
Dagen.
He raised a hand. “The trial begins now.”
Lyra’s legs felt like lead as she stepped into the ring. Her body ached, her thoughts raced, but the fire from her wrist was already building again.
She could feel the shift coming. Something under her skin wanted out.
Across the circle, Kael entered the arena.
He wasn’t armed.
He didn’t need to be.
Lyra stared at him, her heart hammering.
“This isn’t a fight,” she said.
“It is,” he replied. “But not with me.”
He turned—and another figure stepped into the circle.
A girl. Barefoot. Tall. Blonde. Smiling like this was a game.
Selene.
Selene walked toward the center of the arena, slowly rolling her shoulders, her bare feet silent on the stone floor. She looked like she was stretching before a warm-up—not about to fight someone who barely knew what she was.
Lyra stood frozen in place, her pulse pounding in her ears.
“This is ridiculous,” Selene said, glancing around at the pack. “She doesn’t even know how to shift.”
“She’ll learn,” Kael replied.
Selene smirked. “Right before I snap her spine?”
Kael said nothing.
Dagen raised his voice. “Begin.”
Lyra looked around, panicked. “Wait. I don’t even know what I’m doing.”
Selene’s smile widened. “Then you’ll be easy.”
The moment Selene lunged, something inside Lyra snapped.
A sharp heat rushed through her chest, through her arms, down her spine. Her muscles locked, her knees buckled—and then her body folded inward like it was tearing itself apart.
She screamed.
Not from pain—but from change.
Her bones shifted with sickening cracks. Her skin rippled. Her hands twisted into paws, her nails into claws. Her face stretched forward, her vision dimming, sharpening, warping.
It all happened in seconds.
The crowd gasped as fur spread across her skin like wildfire.
Her scream became a growl.
Then the wolf took over.
A silver-gray blur burst across the arena, wild and snarling. Lyra—no longer fully Lyra—charged Selene before the older wolf could brace. They collided hard, rolling across the ground in a blur of snapping jaws and slashing claws.
Selene shrieked, more surprised than hurt, and shoved her off. She shifted midair, her body rippling into a sleek black wolf with amber eyes.
Lyra spun, teeth bared, panting.
The noise of the crowd disappeared. All she heard was her own breath. Her heartbeat. Selene’s claws scraping the stone.
She didn’t feel like herself.
She felt like fire.
Like rage.
Like something ancient and hungry had been living under her skin all this time, and now it was free.
Selene snarled and lunged again—but Lyra didn’t think.
She reacted.
With unnatural speed, she slammed her shoulder into Selene’s side, knocking her into one of the stone pillars. Blood sprayed the ground. Someone shouted in alarm.
Lyra didn’t stop.
She charged again, jaw open, ready to bite down—hard enough to kill.
Lyra lunged, fast and silent, her wolf eyes locked on Selene’s throat.
Selene barely rolled aside in time, and Lyra’s jaws snapped shut just inches from skin. She hit the stone, spun, and pounced again—this time catching fur.
Selene yelped.
Blood splattered across the ground.
The crowd howled in alarm. Some wolves stepped forward, teeth bared, claws out.
“Stop her!” someone shouted.
“She’s feral!”
“She’s going to kill her!”
Lyra didn’t hear them. Couldn’t. Her mind was gone, lost beneath instinct. The scent of blood drove her mad. Her muscles moved on their own. Her claws scraped against stone as she advanced again.
Selene lay on her side, snarling weakly, blood trailing from her ribs. She wasn’t shifting back. She couldn’t.
Lyra charged again.
But before she could reach her—
Kael moved.
One blink, and he was there.
He didn’t roar. Didn’t shout.
He simply stepped into her path, expression unreadable, body calm.
Lyra didn’t slow.
She couldn’t.
Her body launched forward, jaws open—and Kael caught her by the scruff in one movement and slammed her down.
The ground cracked under her back.
She thrashed. Snarled. Bit at the air.
But Kael didn’t flinch.
He dropped to one knee and pinned her beneath him, his forearm pressed across her throat. His other hand gripped the back of her neck—not to hurt her, but to hold her still.
Their eyes met.
Hers—wild and glowing.
His—steady. Gold. Sharp.
“Enough,” he said.
Lyra fought against it, but his voice... it cut through the rage.
“Look at me,” Kael said.
Her breathing slowed. Her growl faded.
“Control it,” he said softly now. “Or it controls you.”
Her body trembled.
Her claws scraped weakly at the stone—then stopped.
Her breathing slowed. Her heart did too.
The wolf inside her pulled back.
Her fur began to fade.
Bones cracked again, shrinking, curling.
Her limbs reshaped.
By the time she lay still, naked, bloodied, and half-conscious at Kael’s feet, the arena had gone silent.
The trial was over.
But Kael wasn’t done.
Lyra’s body lay still beneath Kael, chest rising and falling with short, ragged breaths. Her skin was slick with sweat and streaked with blood—some hers, some not. Bruises bloomed along her ribs, and her legs trembled with the last shocks of the shift.
She was back in her human form.
Bare. Vulnerable. But not weak.
Not anymore.
The silence in the arena was suffocating.
Selene, still in wolf form, had retreated to the far side of the circle, favoring her bleeding flank. Her golden eyes burned with hatred—but even she didn’t move.
Everyone was waiting.
Watching Kael.
He was still kneeling over Lyra, one hand gripping the ground, the other braced near her throat.
His face was unreadable.
Then, slowly, he leaned down.
Lyra opened her eyes. Her vision swam. The fire inside her had gone out, replaced with numbness. But when she saw Kael’s face hovering above hers, something inside her twitched awake again.
“W-what… are you doing?” she rasped.
He didn’t answer.
His hand moved gently—deliberately—to the side of her neck, tilting her head just enough.
Then he bared his teeth.
Gasps echoed around the circle.
“No,” someone whispered. “He wouldn’t…”
Kael’s mouth lowered to the curve of Lyra’s throat.
And he bit.
Not hard. Not deep.
Just enough.
The contact sent a strange rush through her—hot and cold at once. Her body froze. Her chest tightened. A tingling fire bloomed under her skin, right where his teeth grazed her.
It wasn’t a killing bite.
It was something else.
Something ancient.
Kael lifted his head, blood on his lips, gold eyes locked with hers.
The silence broke all at once.
“How dare he—”
“She’s not pack—”
“She’s not even stable—”
“That’s a claim mark!”
Rhea stepped into the ring, eyes wide.
“Kael,” she breathed. “What have you done?”
Kael stood slowly, looking down at Lyra like he’d made peace with something awful.
“She’s one of us now,” he said. “No one touches her.”
He turned to the crowd.
“And if they do…”
He didn’t finish the threat.
He didn’t need to.
- Writer
