"Arrogant jerk. Self-righteous, wolf-blessed, throne-hugging jerk."
Lyra grumbled under her breath as she paced the length of her room, arms folded, the hem of her cloak dragging over the stone floor. "Who does he think he is? Just because s a fancy title and a wolf that probably howls on e threw herself onto the edge of the bed, glaring at the ceiling like it
Her voice faltered.
"But still… what if he's right?"
Silence answered her. Heavy. Hollow.
Her fingers clenched the edge of the blanket, knuckles pale. "Everyone keeps talking like I'm some prophecy fulfilled, but I haven't even shifted. No wolf. No whispers. Just me."
She sighed, the sound drawn from the pit of her chest. The moonlight creeping through the window was soft, but it didn't comfort her. It only reminded her of what she hadn't become. What still hadn't awakened.
Maybe Lucien saw it. Maybe he looked at her and didn't see a future Alpha, didn't see strength or legacy. Maybe he just saw a scared, uncertain girl who didn't belong.
"Ugh. I need air."
Throwing on her cloak, Lyra slipped out of the chamber. The hallway was quiet. Torches flickered along the stone walls, casting long shadows that danced at her feet. She didn't know where she was going, but her feet seemed to find a rhythm on their own, guiding her down twisting corridors until the castle opened into a moonlit courtyard.
The night air hit her like a balm. Crisp, pine-scented, wild. She took a deep breath and tilted her face up toward the sky. The moon was partially veiled by clouds, glowing faintly behind the mist. It looked lonely. Just like her.
"I thought I might find you wandering," came a calm voice from behind.
She turned quickly. "Caelan?"
He stepped out from the shadowed edge of the garden, hands behind his back. "You look like someone carrying a storm."
Lyra offered a dry laugh. "Maybe because I am one."
He came closer, eyes studying her face. "Want to tell me about it?"
She hesitated, then sank down onto a bench near the fountain. "It's stupid."
"I'm a good listener," he replied as he took the seat beside her, not too close, but near enough that she felt his quiet presence.
She stared at the water as she spoke. "Lucien hates me. He doesn't even try to hide it. He thinks I'm just some foster girl dragged into his world to steal his crown."
Caelan's voice was thoughtful. "Lucien doesn't hate easily. But he does fear loss. Especially of something he believes is his by right."
Lyra laughed bitterly. "Right. I haven't even shifted. Everyone talks about this Moon-Blessed line like it's some miracle. But I don't feel miraculous. I feel broken."
"You're not broken, Lyra."
She shook her head. "Then where's my wolf? Shouldn't I feel something? Even a whisper? A growl? A nudge? Anything?"
"Some wolves awaken in fire. Others in silence," Caelan said. "But there's no timer. No rulebook. You are not late. You're just different."
She glanced at him, his calm confidence settling something inside her. "Why are you being so nice to me?"
He offered a soft smile. "Because I remember what it was like to feel out of place."
Lyra turned to face him more fully. "You? But you seem so… certain. Like you always know where you belong."
His gaze shifted to the moon above them. "Not always. I grew up in this castle, but I was never the chosen one. That was Lucien. Son of the Alpha and his Luna. Pure-blooded. Destined. I was just the second son. Born of a healer. Quiet, observant. Easy to overlook."
She blinked. "You're Lucien's brother?"
He nodded. "Half brother. Same father. Different mothers. The former Alpha, Kaelen, was my father too."
Lyra looked down at her hands. "That's… a lot."
Caelan's voice was gentle. "Lucien has carried a heavy burden for a long time. He has trained since he could walk to become Alpha. And now, you appear. You who were hidden. You who silence the wards and stir the Elders."
"He sees me as a threat," she murmured.
"Yes," Caelan said, not unkindly. "But it's more than that. He sees you as proof that fate can be rewritten. That legacy isn't always predictable. And that terrifies him."
Lyra swallowed. "I don't want to take anything from him."
Caelan gave a small nod. "Maybe not. But the moon might."
They sat quietly for a moment, the breeze brushing over them. Lyra reached into her cloak and pulled out the moonstone pendant he had given her earlier. She turned it over in her fingers, watching the way it caught the light.
"I don't know how to be a part of this world," she admitted. "I'm used to being on my own. Just me, my notebook, and a broken lamp above my bed."
"You're not alone anymore," Caelan said firmly. "You have allies here. Even if you don't realize it yet."
She looked at him. "You?"
He smiled. "Especially me."
There was something solid in his gaze, something she hadn't had in a long time—trust. And it made something ache inside her.
"Do you think… I'll ever shift?" she asked quietly.
Caelan took a breath. "I think your wolf is waiting. Watching. Maybe even protecting you. And when the time is right, when your soul is ready, she'll come roaring."
Lyra's eyes shone with the beginning of tears. "I hope so."
Caelan stood slowly and extended a hand. "Come. Let me show you something."
She hesitated, then placed her hand in his. He led her through a narrow archway, into another wing of the courtyard. There, nestled between ancient trees, stood a silver statue of a wolf gazing up at the moon. It glowed faintly in the night, surrounded by soft moss and white flowers.
"This was carved by our ancestors," he said. "To remind us that even when the moon hides, the wolf remembers."
Lyra stepped closer. The statue's eyes were carved with such detail, it looked almost alive. She reached out and touched the stone, and for a brief moment, the air shimmered around her.
"Did you feel that?" she whispered.
"Yes," Caelan replied. "Your spirit is stirring."
Lyra turned to him, her chest rising and falling with a mix of awe and fear. "Do you really believe I'm her? The Moon-Blessed?"
Caelan didn't hesitate. "I do."
Lyra lowered her hand and whispered, "Then I guess I better start believing it too."