Lyra's words hung in the air, heavy as lead, echoing through the silent valley. "I am Lyra. The one you rejected." Her voice, though calm, carried such power and bitterness that Kaleb staggered, as if hitting an invisible wall. His face, already etched with fatigue, paled further. Seraphina stood beside him, her eyes wide, fear mingled with disbelief. Whispers spread among the gathered werewolves, who moments ago had trembled in terror at the sight of the Shadows, and now were stunned by the sight of the one they knew as a weak, rejected she-wolf.
Lyra stood motionless, allowing her words to settle in their minds. She felt hundreds of gazes upon her – astonished, terrified, and in some, even hopeful. Her wolf roared softly in her soul, relishing every second of this confrontation, this demonstration.
Kaleb regained his voice, though it was hoarse. "This… this is impossible. You died. You perished in the forest. You are… something else." His wolf howled within him, craving her, but his human mind fought against this instinct, trying to reconcile the image of the old Lyra with this powerful being who had just saved his pack.
"Death was kind to me, Kaleb," Lyra retorted, her silver eyes narrowing. "And the forest… the forest taught me what I truly am." She gestured to the ground, and from beneath her feet, as if on cue, a single, glowing, scarlet flower sprouted, rising proudly in the moonlight. It was no ordinary flower. It emanated power. "It taught me Primeval Magic, which you and your Luna considered a legend."
Seraphina snorted, regaining some semblance of confidence, though the tremor in her hands betrayed her true fear. "Magic? That's demonic! It's unnatural for werewolves! You are corrupted!" Her own spells were chaotic and ineffective, so she had to diminish Lyra's power.
Lyra let out a cold, humorless laugh. "Corrupted? Me?" Her voice rose, carrying across the valley. "You are corrupted. Your pack is dying because your pride and ignorance prevent you from seeing the true enemy. The Shadow of Oblivion, of which you know nothing, is devouring you from within, while you focus on struggles for power and destiny."
A silence fell. Werewolves began to whisper, looking at Kaleb and Seraphina, then at Lyra, who stood radiating power. The words about "Shadow of Oblivion" struck them like thunder. The pack knew something was wrong, but had no idea what they were fighting.
"How dare you!" Kaleb lunged towards her, his wolf roaring furiously, but Lyra did not flinch. "Stand down," her voice was calm, but an invisible barrier of pure energy struck Kaleb, forcing him to his knees. There was no physical force in it, merely a pure, effortless manifestation of her will. The ground trembled slightly beneath their feet. Kaleb, the Alpha of the pack, lay subdued by the woman he had once rejected. The humiliation on his face was almost palpable.
The whispers intensified, becoming louder murmurs. Few had ever seen an Alpha on his knees. Lyra approached him slowly, her silver hair swirling around her like mist. Her face was serious, devoid of any trace of past pain. "I did not come here to fight for power, Kaleb. I came to save your pack before it's too late. And I am not here to beg for your forgiveness. I am here to tell you what you must do."
Seraphina lunged forward, her hands ready to strike, but Lyra ignored her completely. Her gaze was fixed on Kaleb.
"The last generation of Primeval Lunas died to stop this plague," Lyra continued, her voice now filled with gravity. "And now it returns. I awakened to stop it, and you, with your pride and ignorance, are blind to the threat."
She walked towards one of the wounded werewolves, a young warrior whom the Shadow of Oblivion had begun to drain. His skin was cracked, his eyes vacant. Kaleb and Seraphina stood transfixed, watching. Lyra knelt, placing her hands on his face. A delicate, greenish light began to emanate from her palms, enveloping the warrior's body. Lyra closed her eyes, focusing all her Primeval Magic on healing. It was powerful, yet exhausting. She saw the Shadow of Oblivion fighting back, trying to maintain its grip.
After a moment, the warrior sighed deeply, and his skin began to smooth, returning to a healthy color. He opened his eyes, and a spark of awareness appeared in them. The plague had receded. Lyra, though weakened, stood, her wolf roaring softly with satisfaction.
She looked at Kaleb. "This is Primeval Magic. The magic of life. The magic that can combat the Shadow of Oblivion. The magic you rejected."
The werewolves of the pack began to stir, some falling to their knees before Lyra, others staring with open mouths. Hope, long forgotten, began to bloom in their hearts.
Kaleb stood, his eyes wide. The craving in his wolf was so strong he felt it physically. He wanted her. Not just as his Mate, but as the power that could save his pack. "L-Lyra…" he stammered.
"No," she interrupted him. "There is no 'Mate' anymore. You chose. Now I choose. And my choice is this: you will cooperate with me, or your pack will perish. No exceptions."
Her words were absolute. There was no room for negotiation. Seraphina, furious, lunged at Lyra. "No! She lies! Kaleb, don't listen to her! She's a threat!" Before Seraphina could reach her, Lyra raised a hand. She felt the malice and weakness in Seraphina. The ground around Seraphina trembled, and suddenly, roots shot out from beneath her feet, coiling around her, immobilizing her. Seraphina screamed, struggling, but the bonds were too strong.
"Calm yourself, Luna," Lyra said, in a tone that sent a chill down one's spine. "Your magic is weak because your fear paralyzes it. I have no fear."
She turned back to Kaleb. "Now, I will lead. You will instruct your warriors to guard the borders. Gather all the sick. I will teach you how to fight the Shadow of Oblivion. But above all, I will teach you how to survive."
Kaleb stared at her, his wolf howling in acceptance, but his pride fought back. He was the Alpha. But this woman… she was something more. Lyra did not wait for his answer. Her aura of authority filled the space. The werewolves of the Gray Moon Pack, seeing her determination and power, began to obey her commands. They were tired of illness and weakness. They saw hope.
Lyra, despite her fatigue from healing and fighting, felt a surge of satisfaction. This was just the beginning. But she felt that her return was a strike to the heart of the Gray Moon Pack, a strike that was meant to awaken it before it was too late. Her revenge was sweet, but her mission was far more important.