Pain did not fade all at once.
It went slowly, like a tide pulling back from a shattered shore, leaving behind nothing but emptiness. Lyra floated in the darkness, weightless, soundless, bryoken. She no longer felt the stone floor beneath her, no longer heard the whispers of the pack or the echo of Kael's voice nor the pain caused by him.
Only silence.
Then—
Light.
Not blinding. Not harsh.
Soft. Silver. Warm.
Lyra felt it wrap around her like moonlight made flesh, gentle fingers lifting her chin, forcing her to breathe.
Child of the moon, a voice whispered to her.
Lyra gasped.
She opened her eyes and found herself standing barefoot on a very beautiful surrounding. She looked around mesmerized by the beauty, the grasses greener that the ones she has seen, flowers blooming like ever before, then she looks up, the birds flying around in flocks, the sky above her shimmers , endlessly, glowing with a light that felt ancient and alive. The air hummed with power and peace.
Before her stood a woman.
She was tall and radiant, her skin glowing like polished pearl, her hair flowing freely. Her eyes held centuries—sorrow, wisdom, judgment, mercy.
Lyra gasps when realization hits her.
Lyra fell to her knees instantly.
"M–Moon Goddess," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I didn't mean to be weak. I tried—I tried so hard." she tried explaining what she doesn't even understand herself.
The Goddess watched her silently.
"The bond shattered because your heart was unguarded," she said at last, her voice neither cruel nor kind. "Not because you were unworthy."
Tears streamed down Lyra's face.
"He rejected me," Lyra said brokenly. "He humiliated me. And it hurt so much that I thought I would die."
"You almost did," the Goddess replied calmly.
"Your wolf retreated. Your body began to fail. Another moment, and your fate would have been sealed."
Lyra bowed her head.
"Then let it end," she whispered. "I don't want to feel that pain again."
The Moon Goddess stepped closer.
"What if," she said softly, "you did not have to?"
Lyra looked up sharply.
"I am not here to give you another life," the Goddess continued. "Nor to erase what was done to you. Pain teaches. Memory sharpens. And strength is born from both."
Then the Moon Goddess raises her hand, and the silver world rippled.
"But I will grant you mercy."
Lyra's breath caught.
"I will return you to your life," the Goddess said, "two months before the bond awakens. You will keep your memories. Your pain. Your knowledge."
"Why?" Lyra whispered. "Why me?"
"Because fate was wasted on fear," the Goddess answered. "And I wish to see what you become when fear no longer rules you."
Hope trembled weakly in Lyra's chest.
"Will he remember?" she asked.
The Goddess shook her head.
"No one but you will."
Then her gaze sharpened.
"But hear me well, Lyra Ashen. Fate will not bend twice. This time, your choices will shape everything. Love is no longer guaranteed. Neither is forgiveness."
Lyra swallowed.
"I won't beg again," she said quietly.
The Moon Goddess smiled, not gently, but approvingly.
"Then go," she said. "And be reborn, not in body, but in will."
The silver light flared.
Lyra screamed as the world collapsed inward, and she sat upright, gasping.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she clutched at her heart, expecting pain.
There was none.
No burning.
No tearing.
No silence from her wolf.
She was alive.
Lyra looked around wildly.
She's back in her small bedroom. The thin curtains fluttering in the night breeze. The familiar crack in the wall near the window.
Everything was exactly as it had been before.
Her heart pounded as she rolled out of bed and rushed to the calendar pinned beside her door.
Her breath hitched.
Two months.
Two months before her eighteenth birthday.
Two months before the rejection.
Lyra pressed her hand to her chest and felt it, steady, whole, waiting.
Her wolf stirred softly inside her, no longer broken.
A slow, dangerous calm settled over her.
"This time," she whispered into the quiet room, "I choose myself."
And under the same moon that once watched her break, Lyra Ashen began again.