Mistaken by fate ( the Lycans curse)

Lyra's POV

Pain burned across my scalp as Beta jack dragged me by the hair over the jagged stone floor. The cold bit into my skin, but it was nothing compared to the way his fingers gripped my hair, yanking me forward like I was a sack of meat. Every tug felt like it might tear my scalp clean off, each movement branding my body with more humiliation than the last.

My vision blurred with tears I refused to let fall. But they came anyway, hot, angry, useless. They streamed down my cheeks and dripped onto the filthy ground, mingling with the blood from the cuts and scrapes etched into my bare legs. I wanted to scream, to claw at his face, to fight, but I couldn't. My body refused to cooperate, as though it too had given up.

My wrists were bound behind me in silver shackles, the metal searing my skin with every movement. The longer they stayed on, the weaker I felt. It wasn't just the pain, it was the dulling of my senses, the loss of my connection to what little magic I had. Silver stripped that from us, made us less. Powerless.

And yet, here I was, treated like a criminal in a kingdom I once considered home.

How did it come to this?

Three years. That's how long I've searched for her, for Lira, my twin. My sister. My other half. Every waking day has been spent chasing shadows and whispers, clinging to the fragile hope that she's still alive. I scoured abandoned villages, rogue hideouts, distant territories, and ancient ruins. And I found nothing. Nothing except more fear, more questions... and now this.

Beta jack thinks I'm her. That's the most maddening part of it all. He keeps calling me by her name, like I've lost my mind, like I don't even know who I am anymore. I've screamed the truth, spat it in his face, but no one listens. Not here. Not in the Lycan Kingdom, where truth is only what the powerful say it is.

I am Lyra, not Lira. I'm not the one they're hunting. I never have been.

But that doesn't seem to matter.

Lira and I... we're twin daughters of disgrace.

Our mother was once a respected She-Wolf, fierce, intelligent, and terrifyingly gifted. A member of the Ancient Council, a secretive group that governed not just packs but bloodlines. She was revered. Feared. Until she fell.

She dared to love a human.

In Lycan law, humans are more than outsiders, they're abominations. Their blood is seen as a weakness, a taint, something that must be purged. To the Lycans, mingling with humans is treason. And she didn't just mingle, she loved one. She bore his children.

Us.

When the truth came out, the Council turned on her. The same wolves who once bowed at her feet now called for her execution. I was five when I watched them burn her alive. They said it was tradition, but all I saw was murder. That was the night I learned that power doesn't protect you in this world, it condemns you. Lira and I barely escaped with our lives.

Since then, we've been ghosts. Names whispered in fear or hatred. Marked as outcasts. Cursed by our mother's blood. Hunted by wolves who believe our existence is a threat to the purity of their kind.

If it had been up to me, I might've stayed hidden forever. I wanted peace. I wanted to belong. But Lira... she was different. Fire lived in her bones. She refused to cower. She wanted revenge, not just for our mother, but for everything they took from us.

And that's what scares me.

Because two years ago, I heard a rumor. An entire Lycan bloodline, an elite family, connected to the Council, was wiped out. Slaughtered in one night. No survivors. No mercy. And someone left behind a message written in blood: We are the cursed daughters. We do not forget.

They think it was me.

But I know it was her.

Still, I have no proof. No answers. Only this gnawing certainty that my twin sister, the other half of my soul, is alive, and dangerous. And I need to find her before the Lycans do. Before they kill her... or worse.

That's what brought me here, to the capital of the Lycan Kingdom. I was foolish to come, but desperation outweighs fear. I'd been tracking rumors of a rogue with silver eyes, rumors only someone like Lira could inspire. I followed them straight into Jack's trap.

He was charming at first. Calm. Protective. Said he wanted to help. I believed him for three years, Goddess, I believed him.

And now, he drags me like garbage through the heart of a fortress I never should have entered.

"You're hurting me," I whisper, voice hoarse and cracked.

Jack doesn't look at me. "Good."

My heart aches more than my body. I trusted him. I let my guard down. I wanted so badly to believe there were still good wolves in this world, wolves who saw me for who I was, not just what blood ran through my veins.

But he was just another mask. Another lie.

The hallway twists ahead, torches casting flickering shadows on stone walls. My legs are raw from the stone scraping against them, but I no longer care. What awaits me beyond this corridor is worse than the pain.

He stops suddenly, yanking me upright. My head spins, my vision tilts. Before I can catch my breath, I'm shoved through an iron door into an open courtyard. Rain falls in a slow drizzle, mixing with the blood on my skin. I squint against the cold.

A black van waits at the center. A figure stands beside it, tall, hulking, with a beard braided in thick cords, each one adorned with silver beads. He looks more like a barbarian than a soldier, but the way he carries himself, silent, coiled, ready, tells me he's not someone to underestimate.

His eyes settle on me. Cold. Indifferent. Like I'm not a person, just something he's been sent to collect.

"Is she the one?" he asks. His voice is gravel, rough and dry. He doesn't even look at Jack

Jack nods too quickly. "She's the last Luna Lycan. No wolf, no pack, no claim. Just a name."

Luna Lycan.

The title strikes a chord deep inside me. It's not just a label. It's a bloodline-rare, nearly extinct. Luna Lycans were once guardians of balance, born during rare lunar eclipses, gifted with both strength and serenity. They weren't rulers, but guides. Healers. Prophets.

Our mother was one.

Which means Lira and I are the last.

The man steps forward, examining me like a specimen in a lab. He tilts my face, fingers calloused and cold. I want to flinch, but I don't. I've learned not to give them the satisfaction.

"No wolf?" he asks, turning slightly to Jack.

"She's twenty," Jack says with a smirk. "Should've shifted by now. Nothing. Just silence. She's as empty as her promises."

They both laugh.

But I don't feel empty.

There's something there. A heat beneath my skin. A pressure building behind my ribs. I feel it more every day, a presence. A storm. My wolf is not dead. She's not gone.

She's waiting.

And if she wakes... I don't know what I'll become.

The stranger nods once, then yanks the van door open. Without a word, he lifts me effortlessly and tosses me inside like a sack of grain.

The door slams shut behind me, sealing away the light.

I lie there in the dark, chest heaving, wrists bleeding, heart breaking.

But deep inside, something growls.

Something ancient.