The air in Blackridge had begun to change.
It was subtle at first—cooler mornings that lingered on the skin, the scent of pine sharpening as the days shortened, the mountains exhaling a promise of snow not yet fallen. Elara noticed it most in the way the pack moved. There was a quiet urgency now, a hum beneath the routines she had grown used to over the past weeks.
Preparation.
She was helping stack dried herbs in the storage hall when she first heard the laughter.
It drifted in from outside—bright, unrestrained, layered with excitement she hadn't heard since arriving. Elara paused, fingers tightening around the bundle in her hands. Several omegas nearby were whispering animatedly, tails flicking, eyes alight.
"What's going on?" Elara asked gently.
The omegas startled, as if they'd forgotten she was there. Then one of them—Lina, a soft-spoken she-wolf who often worked beside her—smiled shyly.
"It's almost time," Lina said.
"For…?" Elara prompted.
Another omega, broader shouldered and freckled, grinned. "The Moon Run."
Elara blinked. "The what?"
They exchanged looks, surprised. "You really don't know?" Lina asked, then quickly added, "I mean—of course you wouldn't. You didn't grow up here."
Elara shook her head, curiosity blooming. "Tell me."
They gathered closer, as if the words themselves carried reverence.
"It's our yearly tradition," Lina began. "Before winter comes. The night the Blackridge pack was founded."
"We honor it by shifting together," the other omega said, voice warm with pride. "Every wolf who can shift does. Alphas, Betas, warriors, omegas—no ranks. Just wolves."
Elara's breath caught.
"They run the entire territory," Lina continued. "From the eastern cliffs to the frozen river, through the old forest and back to the mountain pass. Under the full moon."
Elara tried to imagine it—dozens of wolves, fur glinting silver beneath moonlight, moving as one living tide through the land. The image stirred something deep in her chest.
"Why?" she asked softly.
"To remember," Lina said. "That Blackridge wasn't built by power alone. It was built by unity. By choosing to protect the land and each other."
Elara swallowed.
Her fingers trembled slightly, and she lowered the herbs onto the table.
That night, when she finally lay alone in her room, sleep did not come easily.
Her thoughts circled the same question, again and again.
Shifting.
She closed her eyes and turned inward, toward the presence that had always been there—quiet, watchful, fiercely alive.
Lyra, she whispered.
The answer came not in words, but in sensation. A familiar warmth unfurled in her chest, stronger than it had ever been. Her wolf stirred, stretching like something long restrained.
You felt it too, Elara thought.
Yes, Lyra answered, her voice deeper now, threaded with something Elara could not name. The land is calling.
Elara's heart raced. Can I… shift?
Silence followed. Not empty—considering.
I don't know, Lyra admitted. The block is weaker. The chains that held us… they are thinning.
Elara sat up in bed, breath shallow. But you were never able to before.
Because it was not time, Lyra said. Or not safe.
A pulse of awareness rippled through them both, like a distant howl carried on the wind.
Now something is different, Lyra continued. I feel it too. A pull. Like the moon is reaching for us.
Elara pressed a hand to her chest, where her heartbeat thundered. Fear and hope tangled together, inseparable.
What if I fail? she asked.
Lyra's presence wrapped around her, protective and steady. Then we will endure. As we always have.
The next morning, Elara sought out Lina again.
They were outside this time, sorting supplies near the lower courtyard. Elara hesitated only a moment before speaking.
"When is the Moon Run?" she asked.
Lina's ears perked. "In a week. On the last full moon before winter."
"And where?" Elara pressed.
"The Blackridge forest," Lina replied. "The old one. Where the first Alpha claimed the land."
Elara nodded slowly, committing the words to memory.
A week.
Seven nights.
She looked toward the distant tree line, dark and waiting beneath the sky. Something inside her responded, sharp and electric, as if recognizing a path long forgotten.
She did not know if she would run with them.
She did not know if she could.
But for the first time since she was a child standing amid ash and blood, Elara felt the moon looking back at her—and this time, it did not feel like judgment.
It felt like invitation.