Chapter 2 When wolves meet

Lyra landed on the cold grass with a soft thud and started running. Not because she wanted to. Because something ancient in her bones demanded it. Her paws hit the earth in perfect rhythm, faster than any human should be able to move. The wind slid over her back like water, sharp and cold, and yet it carried with it a thrill.

She didn't know where she was going. But her body did.

Wolfrest was sleeping behind her-still, quiet, unaware. But the town's silence didn't feel peaceful tonight. It felt like it was hiding. As she ran, every sound sharpened. Every scent burned in her nose. An owl flapped overhead. The scent of rusted metal leaked from an old junkyard. Somewhere behind a brick wall, a television buzzed faintly.

But louder than all of that was the forest.

It called to her. Whispered her name in a thousand crackling leaves. And she answered.

The town disappeared behind her like smoke, and soon all that was left was trees-thick and tall, rising like cathedral pillars into the sky.

She stopped at the edge. Her breath visible in the moonlight.

The air changed. Denser. Wilder.

The forest wasn't just waiting. It was listening. Watching.

Lyra stepped forward. Her paws sank into moss. Moonlight filtered through the branches like silver lace. The smell of pine, wet bark, and something... else-older-wrapped around her. It wasn't just nature. It was memory. Blood.

She padded deeper. Her body low. Muscles tensed.

Then-snap.

A growl, low and deep, rumbled from the shadows. Not a warning. A test.

She froze. Her ears perked. Her breath shallow.

The growl came again. Closer.

Lyra stepped into a clearing ringed with shadows. Five wolves stood beneath the moon. Their eyes glowed like lanterns. Each of them motionless, watching.

White. Gray. Brown. Red. And one-a massive silver-black wolf-stepped forward. He moved like a king.

Welcome, said a voice-not with lips, but in her mind.

It was ancient. And calm. And terrifying.

Her heart pounded. She didn't move.

You have awakened. You heard the call. You followed it.

The silver wolf circled her. Not threatening. Studying. Approving.

Then his form began to shift-his bones cracked and stretched. His fur melted into skin. Until a man stood before her, strong and tall with silver-streaked hair, eyes the same icy blue, and a long scar etched across his jaw like a forgotten prophecy.

No shirt. No shoes. No fear.

"My name is Alexander," he said quietly, voice smooth like fog rolling over water.

She took a step back, her body trembling.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He raised a hand gently. "We've been waiting."

Lyra looked at him, confused. "Why me? What am I?"

He smiled sadly. "You are one of us. But more than that, you're something the forest hasn't seen in a long, long time."

"What does that mean?" she whispered.

"You were born from two lines-one hunted to near extinction, one hidden so well even the stars forgot them. That bloodline hasn't crossed in centuries."

She blinked. "That's not an answer."

"No," he said, eyes flickering toward the moon, "It's a warning."

She shivered.

Before she could ask anything else, the forest stirred.

The air changed again.

Colder.

Wrong.

Branches snapped in the dark.

Alexander tensed. The other wolves formed a half-circle, surrounding Lyra. Their fur bristled. Their growls, low and unified, vibrated in the soil.

"They've found us," he muttered, already shifting.

His body snapped and twisted back into the silver-black wolf. His snarl sliced through the silence like a blade.

Figures emerged from the woods.

Wolves. But... not.

Misshapen. Twisted. Their bodies malformed like something halfway through the change and stuck. Their fur patchy, their eyes glowing red. They didn't breathe like normal creatures. They hissed through their teeth, like they hated the very air.

One stepped forward. It drooled black liquid onto the dirt. Its mouth was wrong. Its neck too long.

Lyra's stomach turned.

Alexander's voice entered her mind again. Stay behind me. Don't shift unless you must. These are not wolves. They're what happens when you lose your soul.

Then they attacked.

Everything moved at once-fur and claws, growls and howls.

Alexander charged. So did the others.

Lyra stepped back, shaking, her breath caught in her throat. A shadow-creature broke from the pack, darting around the fight and straight at her.

She had no time to think.

Pain exploded through her spine as her bones cracked and her body twisted. Her hands vanished. Her snout grew forward. Her vision sharpened into starlight clarity.

She launched herself toward the creature, meeting it in midair.

They slammed into the ground. Teeth sank into fur. Blood sprayed.

Lyra didn't feel human. She felt... right.

She wasn't fighting for her life. She was defending something ancient. Something hers.

The twisted wolf tried to break free, but she was stronger. Faster. She pinned it to the ground and snarled in its face. A deep, guttural sound rose from her throat-one that didn't sound like it came from her at all. It came from deep in the earth.

The creature whimpered and fled into the woods, leaving a trail of darkness behind it.

Silence returned.

The clearing was wrecked. Blood and dirt. Claw marks in trees. One shadow-wolf dead. Two limping away.

Alexander shifted back. His body bloodied, eyes still sharp.

Lyra changed too. Her skin prickled. Her lungs burned. But her heart beat steady.

Alexander looked at her, stunned. "You fought like someone who's done this before."

"I didn't think," she said. "I just... moved."

"That's the wolf in you," he nodded. "The forest remembers your blood."

The others circled back. One wolf had a torn leg, but the pale she-wolf helped him walk.

Alexander stepped close to Lyra. His voice dropped. "This was a test. A message. You're being hunted, Lyra. And not just by them."

Her voice cracked. "What am I?"

He looked her dead in the eye. "The last time someone like you was born, the sky turned red. The forest burned for seven days. And the dead... rose."

Before she could answer, a terrible howl split the night. It was deep and hollow, as if something howled through a tunnel of bones.

Alexander stiffened.

The wolves froze.

Lyra turned north. The air smelled wrong again-iron and rot.

"What is that?" she whispered.

The pale she-wolf answered, voice soft but sharp. "The mountain. They've broken the seal."

Lyra looked at them all. "What's in the mountain?"

Alexander's face turned grim.

"Something that was buried. Something that was promised never to return."

His eyes locked on hers.

"You need to come with me. Right now."