The world was cold.
Silent.
Still.
Lyra's body floated in a vast expanse of silver light — weightless, free from pain, yet trapped in the echo of her last memory: Kian's eyes filled with ice, his voice rejecting her, his power pushing her away like she was nothing.
"Is this death?" she whispered.
Her voice didn't echo. It dissolved into the shimmering air around her.
Then came the whisper again — soft but powerful, like moonlight speaking directly to her soul.
"Not death. Rebirth."
Lyra turned, her heart pounding. The light shifted, and from it stepped a woman clothed in white and silver, her hair flowing like liquid moonlight. Her eyes held galaxies within them.
"Who… who are you?" Lyra asked, trembling.
"I am Selene," the woman said gently. "The Moon Goddess you've prayed to all your life."
Lyra's breath caught. "Then… you saw everything. You saw what he did."
"I did," Selene said, her tone both sad and fierce. "You were betrayed by those meant to protect you. But your story does not end in ashes, child. I have chosen you for something greater."
Lyra shook her head, tears slipping down her cheeks. "I have nothing left. No pack, no wolf, no mate…"
"You have me."
Selene's hand lifted, and light surrounded Lyra's body, swirling like a storm. The pain was sudden — searing, burning through her veins — but underneath it was power. Wild. Raw. Untamed.
Lyra screamed, her eyes glowing bright silver as her wolf howled from deep within. It wasn't the timid creature she once knew. This was something ancient — something fierce.
"You are no longer just wolf," Selene whispered. "You are hybrid — born of the moon and the forgotten bloodline of witches. Your destiny is not to beg for love, but to make the world tremble at your name."
Lyra's pulse thundered in her ears. Her skin glowed faintly, her senses sharpening. She could feel the pull of the earth, the hum of magic in every breath.
When the light faded, she was lying on the forest floor again. The storm had passed. The night was quiet.
But she was not the same.
Her reflection in a puddle nearby made her heart race — her once brown eyes now glowed silver with faint violet rings. The mark of the goddess shimmered faintly on her collarbone — a crescent moon crossed with a witch's sigil.
A new heartbeat echoed through the woods. Her wolf's heartbeat. Strong. Steady.
Lyra rose slowly, the leaves whispering under her bare feet. The scent of her old pack drifted faintly from the distance. Her hands clenched.
"You wanted me gone, Kian," she murmured. "But I'm not gone. I'm reborn."
And then she heard it — footsteps.
Heavy. Many.
Voices shouting.
"Find her body!" someone commanded. "The Alpha wants proof she's dead!"
Lyra's lips curved into a faint smile.
They wouldn't find what they were looking for.
But she was more than willing to find them.
She stepped into the shadows, her eyes flashing silver as the moon rose high above her.
The hunter had become the hunted.