The golden light faded, leaving only quiet and destruction. Lyra stared at the sparkling locket in Kael's hand, her mind spinning.
One moment she'd been ready to let the river take her, and the next—"Your sister saved us," she whispered.
Kael's fingers closed around the charm, his knuckles white. "She's been dead for twelve years.
Dead people don't save anyone." "Then how do you explain what just happened?" Before he could answer, heavy footsteps thundered down the hallway.
The bedroom door burst open, and Garren rushed in with a squad of soldiers behind him.
"Alpha!" Garren's eyes swept the ruined room—broken windows, water stains, claw marks on the walls. "We heard screaming. Are you hurt?" "We're fine," Kael said, but his voice shook slightly. Garren's gaze fell on Lyra, and his expression hardened.
"The river appeared right after she arrived. The dead rose from the water. And now your rooms are destroyed." He stepped closer, hand resting on his sword. "Quite a coincidence." "Watch your tone, Beta," Kael warned.
"Someone needs to say it! This girl is cursed. She's brought nothing but chaos to our pack." Lyra felt the familiar stab of shame. Maybe Garren was right.
Maybe everyone would be safer if she was gone. "The river wanted me," she said softly. "I should have let it take me." Kael spun toward her, anger blazing in his gray eyes.
"Don't you dare say that again." "Why not? It's true! People get hurt because of me. Elara died because of me. Your pack is in danger because—" "Because of an ancient curse, not because of you!" Kael's voice cracked like a whip.
"You're not responsible for magic older than our great-grandparents!" But Garren wasn't finished. "Respectfully, Alpha, look at the facts.
The moment she steps foot in our land, supernatural disasters follow. Her own father blamed her for her sister's death.
Maybe he knew something we don't." Each word hit like a physical blow. Lyra wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold the bits together.
"That's enough," Kael growled. "Is it? Because I found something interesting while you were up here playing hero." Garren pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.
"One of our patrol scouts intercepted this message three miles from our border." He gave the paper to Kael, whose face went deadly still as he read. "What does it say?" Lyra asked, though part of her didn't want to know. Kael's eyes met hers, cold and detached again.
"It's a letter. To your father's army. Telling them exactly where to find weak spots in our defenses." The air left Lyra's lungs.
"I didn't write any letter!" "Really? Because it's signed with your name." Garren's smile was sharp as a blade.
"And the handwriting matches the journal we found in your tower room." "What journal? I don't have a book!"
"The one hidden under your mattress. Full of detailed notes about our patrol plans, guard rotations, weapon supplies." Garren's voice dripped with false pity. "Quite thorough for someone who's supposedly been locked up."
Lyra turned to Kael, desperate for him to see the truth. "I never wrote anything like that! I've never even seen our patrol plans!" But doubt flickered in his eyes.
The same worry she'd seen in her father's face ten years ago. "You have to believe me," she whispered. Kael looked at the letter in his hand. When he looked up, his face was carved from stone. "Guards," he said quietly.
"Arrest her."
"Kael, no! Please!" But two fighters stepped forward, silver shackles gleaming in their hands.
Lyra backed away, her power flaring automatically. "Don't make this harder than it has to be," Garren said, drawing his sword. "We all saw what you can do to silver.
But there are six of us and one of you." The chains clicked around her wrists.
Immediately, her strength drained away like water through a broken wall.
Whatever power had been growing inside her disappeared, leaving only emptiness. "The dungeons," Kael ordered, not meeting her eyes. "Maximum security."
As they dragged her toward the door, Lyra turned around to face him.
"You said you loved me! You said I was worth more than any union!" Pain flashed across his features. "I also said everyone I love dies.
Maybe it's better this way." "You coward!" Rage gave her voice power. "You're just like my father!
The moment things get tough, you blame me and walk away!" Kael flinched like she'd slapped him, but he didn't take back the order.
They hauled her through hallways filled with staring pack members. Some looked angry.
Others seemed almost satisfied, like a problem was finally being solved. The cells were carved into the mountain's heart, deep below the packhouse.
Her cell was smaller than her tower room, with walls that wept constantly and air that tasted of hopelessness. The guards threw her inside and locked the door with a sound like breaking bones.
Alone in the darkness, Lyra finally let the tears come. She'd been stupid to think Kael might actually care about her. Stupid to believe she could fit anywhere.
The curse had followed her here just like it had haunted her for ten years, ruining everything she touched. Maybe everyone would be better off if she just disappeared. Hours passed. Or maybe days.
Time moved strangely in the deep places where sunshine never reached. Then footsteps echoed in the hallway outside her cell.
Lyra looked up, expecting to see a guard bringing old bread and bitter water. Instead, Elder Voss stood at the bars, his ancient eyes bright with something that might have been pity.
"Hello, child."
"Come to gloat?" Lyra's voice was hoarse from crying. "I'm sure the whole pack is celebrating."
"Actually, they're scared. Three more pack members disappeared last night.
Found their clothes by the river, but no bodies." Ice formed in Lyra's stomach. "The river's still taking people?" "Of course it is. Locking you up doesn't break a curse, girl. It just makes you easier to claim when the time comes."
Elder Voss stepped closer to the bars, dropping his voice. "That letter Garren found? The handwriting's all wrong. Too neat, too careful.
Whoever faked it isn't very good at copying a young woman's scrawl." Hope flickered in Lyra's chest. "You believe me?" "I believe someone wants you painted as a traitor.
The question is why." His aged fingers wrapped around the bars.
"What do you know about soul magic, child?"
"Nothing. Why?" "Because that's what the river practices. Ancient, dangerous magic that swaps one soul for another.
The living for the dead. The innocent for the guilty." Lyra thought of Elara's silver eyes and hungry smile. "You think someone's been possessed?" "I think someone in this pack isn't who they look to be.
Someone who knows exactly how to make you look bad while they work from the shadows."
A chill ran down Lyra's spine. "Garren?" "Garren's ambitious and cruel, but he's not subtle enough for this kind of game." Elder Voss glanced around nervously. "No, whoever's behind this has been planning for a long time.
Waiting for the right time to strike." "Then why tell me? Why not warn Kael?"
"Because the Alpha's judgment is compromised where you're concerned.
Love makes fools of the smartest men." Elder Voss's smile was sad. "But you still have choices, child.
The river may want your life, but it can't take what isn't freely given."
"What's that supposed to mean?" "It means the curse has rules. Ancient rules that even dark magic must follow.
And sometimes, those rules can be used against the threat itself." Before Lyra could ask what he meant, voices echoed from the hallway above.
Elder Voss tensed. "I have to go. But remember what I said about choices. When the time comes, choose wisely."
He melted back into the shadows just as new footsteps neared her cell. Lyra expected another guard. Instead, a familiar person stepped into the torchlight. "Hello, sister." It was Elara.
But not the ghostly kid from Kael's room. This Elara looked solid, real, living.
She wore a simple white dress and had flowers in her blonde hair. "You're not real," Lyra whispered.
"I'm as real as you are now." Elara smiled, pressing her face against the bars. "The river taught me how to borrow bodies. How to walk among the living."
"Whose body?" Elara's laugh was like silver bells. "Does it matter? She volunteered, in a way. People drowning always beg for just one more breath." Horror crawled up Lyra's throat. "You killed someone?" "I saved someone. Gave her meaning.
Now she gets to help reunite two sisters who've been apart far too long." Elara reached through the bars, her fingers ice-cold against Lyra's cheek.
"The Alpha's losing faith in you. His pack turns against you. Even your own father's army camps outside, ready to watch you burn."
"What do you want?"
"The same thing I've always wanted.
For you to keep your promise." "What promise?" "To change places with me. To let me live while you take my place in the river's depths."
Elara's borrowed body was beautiful, but her eyes stayed silver and ancient. "I'm giving you one last chance, sister. Come freely, and I'll make sure Kael and his pack survive what's coming."
"And if I refuse?" "Then everyone you care about dies screaming." Elara's smile never changed.
"Starting with the Alpha who broke your heart." Through the prison walls, Lyra could hear something that made her blood freeze. Howling.
Dozens of voices raised in harmony, but wrong somehow.
Too high, too hungry. "My new pack is getting restless," Elara said sweetly. "The drowned ones are so eager to meet their former friends." The howling got louder, closer.
Something was coming through the tunnels beneath the packhouse. "Choose quickly, sister," Elara whispered. "Save the one you love, or watch him join my collection."
In the distance, steel rang against steel. Shouts of alarm echoed through the stone halls.
The fight for the Bloodmoon Pack had begun.
And Lyra was stuck, unable to help, while everyone she cared about fought for their lives against an enemy that couldn't die.