Two days had passed since Lyra took up position on the hill overlooking the Gray Moon Pack. Two days of quiet observation and careful planning. With each hour of scrutiny, the same grim conclusion emerged: the pack was dying from within. The Shadow of Oblivion plague, which she had sensed from a distance, was almost palpable here, up close. She felt it in every breath, in every dead branch, in the resigned aura that hung over the settlement like a shroud.
Kaleb rarely left his Alpha's den, and when he did, his movements were heavy, his face etched with lines of exhaustion. He looked as if he hadn't slept in weeks. His wolf's aura, once so dominating and full of pride, was now clouded, punctuated by waves of anger and despair. Lyra watched him converse with Seraphina, their exchanges tense, filled with accusations and frustration. Seraphina, too, was different. Her usual confidence had vanished, replaced by nervousness and venomous glances she cast at anyone who dared to meet her gaze. Her primeval magic, which Aeris had seen in visions, was powerful, but Lyra sensed that Seraphina barely controlled it, and her own fear rendered it useless against the invisible enemy.
The young werewolves, Lyra's peers who once mocked her, now ambled aimlessly, their wolves lethargic, their senses dulled. She saw mothers attempting to comfort sick children, elders lost in prayers that seemed to offer no solace. Lyra sensed a growing discontent and a loss of faith in Kaleb's leadership. He was supposed to be a strong Alpha, yet his pack was dying before his eyes.
This is what happens when true strength is ignored, Lyra thought, looking at Kaleb. She felt a mix of satisfaction and profound sadness. Satisfaction that her rejection was his loss, but sadness that so many innocents suffered due to his pride.
Her own power pulsed beneath her skin, ready for action. Her wolf, a silvery beauty with eyes full of primeval fire, howled with impatience. But Lyra knew she had to be strategic. Entering without a plan would be suicidal. She had to strike at a moment that would ensure maximum impact and demonstrate her strength in a way that could not be ignored.
Aeris's memories were becoming her second nature. Lyra saw how Aeris utilized the terrain to her advantage, how she studied enemy movements, and how she always protected the innocent. She also saw how she dealt with rebellion and distrust, proving her worth through actions, not just words. These were lessons Lyra absorbed like a sponge. She knew that simply returning wouldn't be enough. She had to act.
During one of her nightly observations, Lyra sensed heightened activity. The mutated shadows she had previously seen in the forest now began to approach the borders of the Gray Moon Pack settlement. They were stronger and more aggressive. This was a harbinger of a larger attack.
"This is their weak point," her wolf whispered to her. "They are depleted. They will be defenseless."
Lyra focused, using her Seer ability to extend her senses across the entire territory. She noticed that the Gray Moon Pack's main patrols were stretched to their limits, and several outposts were empty. Kaleb was conserving strength, but in doing so, he created vulnerabilities. The Shadow of Oblivion, she sensed, was intelligent. It exploited these openings.
From her intense observation, Lyra deduced that a full moon was approaching. Not a Blood Moon, but still a potent full moon. This was her time. Her power was at its peak then. She decided she would strike when the shadow attacked the pack, but she would do it in her own way – as a solitary force appearing from nowhere to turn the tide of battle.
Throughout the next day, Lyra prepared herself. She checked her provisions, ensuring her silver hair was hidden beneath a hood. She felt the pulse of power in her veins, ready for release. There was no fear in her, only cold determination.
Night fell, and with it, the moon rose. It was bright, silvery, casting long shadows across the forest. Lyra felt her energy surge, fueled by the moonlight. Her wolf was ready, growling softly, anticipating.
Suddenly, a piercing scream echoed from deep within the forest. Then another. And then dozens. The attack had begun. Mutated shadows, larger and more grotesque than those she had seen before, began to pour from the tree shadows, assaulting the outskirts of the Gray Moon Pack settlement. These were life-draining entities, leaving behind desiccated, lifeless bodies.
The roars of combat, cries of pain, and terrified howls of wolves spread through the valley. Lyra clenched her jaw. She watched as Kaleb, despite his exhaustion, fought with fury, but his attacks, though powerful, were unable to stem the surging tide. Seraphina attempted to use her magic, but her power seemed unstable, her spells chaotic and ineffective. She was panicking.
Lyra sprinted down the hill, moving with incredible speed, almost invisible in the gloom. She chose the most vulnerable point of the pack's defense, where the shadowy entities were already breaking through. When she arrived, she saw several young wolves from her former pack desperately trying to defend their families, but they were overwhelmed. One of them, a young guard Lyra remembered as someone who often mocked her, was struck down, and a shadow began to drain his life force.
This was the moment.
Lyra burst from the shadows, a silvery fury. Her hair illuminated, and her eyes blazed with the silver glow of Primeval Magic. She did not hesitate. She extended her hands.
From the earth beneath her, with sudden, explosive force, thick roots shot forth, entwining around the nearest shadows, immobilizing them in a crushing grip that shattered their ethereal forms. The shadows roared in agony, attempting to break free, but Lyra's magic was too powerful. She saw the astonished looks of the young wolves, who watched with open mouths as the roots dragged the shadows back into the earth, annihilating them.
She did not stop. She directed her attention to another group of shadows. From a nearby stream that flowed beside the settlement, a column of water surged upward, like a serpent, and struck the shadows, tearing them apart and dispersing their dark energy. When the water receded, it left only emptiness in its wake.
The battle was chaotic, but Lyra, with her new power, moved like a dancer of death, using earth and water to protect the pack and destroy the shadows. She spoke no words, only acted. Her wolf roared with satisfaction inside, feeling its strength grow with each shadow destroyed. Lyra felt the gazes of Kaleb's warriors, their shock and terror, but she ignored them.
Suddenly, Kaleb emerged from the crowd. His eyes, once filled with disgust, were now wide with astonishment and, Lyra sensed, fascination. Seraphina was by his side, her face pale. They had never seen such magic.
Kaleb let out a roar, seeing Lyra, the same Lyra he had rejected, fighting the monsters that had been decimating his pack. He tried to approach her, but Lyra sent a frigid glare his way that stopped him in his tracks. Her power was now so overwhelming that even Kaleb felt its weight.
This is not your place, she thought. It never was.
She concluded her assault, the last shadow dispersing into dust. The pack fell silent. All eyes were on her. Lyra stood in the center of the battlefield, her silvery hair blowing in the wind, her eyes, like moons, shining with a cool, potent glow. The silence was deafening. She felt the pain of rejection that once destroyed her now replaced by power and pride.
"Who… who are you?" Kaleb's voice was trembling. He was certain Lyra had died in the forest.
Lyra crossed her arms, her smile cold and bitter. Her gaze settled on Kaleb and Seraphina. "I am Lyra. The one you rejected."