Lyra's cottage stood deep in the Frostmere woods, where sunlight barely touched the ground. Smoke curled from its crooked chimney, and the air smelled of herbs and old magic.
Kael arrived before dawn, drawn by something he couldn't name.
She opened the door before he could knock. "I wondered when you'd come."
"I'm not here for tricks."
"Good," she said. "Then you're ready for truth."
He followed her inside. The walls were lined with shelves of books, bottles of moonlight, jars filled with things that moved when you looked away.
Lyra moved gracefully between them, her cloak whispering over the floor. "You're cursed, Kael. All of Frostmere is. The blood of the first Alpha still stains your moon."
"I know the legend."
"Do you know the cost?" she asked, turning to face him. "Every death feeds the curse. Every act of vengeance strengthens it. You're killing the cure you seek."
Kael frowned. "And what's your price for telling me this?"
Lyra's gaze softened. "A promise."
"Of what?"
"When the time comes, you'll choose love over vengeance."
Kael almost laughed. "You ask the impossible."
"Then it's a fair trade."
And for the first time in years, the Alpha smiled.