The forest glowed silver under the ghost light of dawn. Mist curled between the ancient trees, and the air pulsed with quiet power.
Lyra stood barefoot in a circle of runes carved into the earth. The sigils pulsed faintly — the language of the Moon Goddess herself. Every muscle in Lyra's body trembled as energy rippled through her veins, bright and searing.
Selene's voice echoed softly inside her mind.
"Again."
Lyra gritted her teeth, raised her hands, and forced the energy outward. Silver flames erupted around her, swirling like ribbons. For a heartbeat, it was perfect — controlled — and then it exploded.
The ground shook. Trees bent under the shockwave. Lyra was thrown backward, crashing into the mud.
"Damn it!" she gasped, clutching her chest. Her skin burned faintly with crescent-shaped marks that shimmered before fading.
From the edge of the clearing, Damon leaned against a tree, arms crossed and smirk tugging at his mouth.
"You call that control?" he drawled. "You nearly took down half the forest."
Lyra glared at him, standing slowly. "If you came to mock me, you can leave."
"I came to test you."
Before she could respond, he lunged. His wolf was fast — impossibly fast — claws out, eyes gleaming like molten gold. Lyra reacted on instinct. She ducked, twisted, and let her power surge.
Silver fire flared from her palms. Damon's attack met it head-on. The collision sent a flash of light across the clearing, and for a heartbeat, both of them froze — face to face, breath mingling, power crackling between them like static.
"Not bad," he muttered, his voice low. "You're learning."
"I'm surviving," she corrected.
He smirked. "Same thing, in our world."
He struck again, but this time, she was ready. Her movements were sharper now, faster — her wolf and magic beginning to align. Every time their bodies collided, the air grew hotter, charged with raw energy and something neither of them wanted to name.
Finally, Damon pinned her to the ground, his hand braced beside her head. Silver light still danced over her skin, flickering with each breath.
"Your control's improving," he said quietly, his tone unexpectedly soft. "But you're holding back."
Lyra's eyes flashed. "I'm not."
"You are." His voice dropped. "You're afraid. Not of me — of what you can do."
Her heart pounded. "You don't know what it feels like to burn from the inside out."
Damon leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "Then show me."
For a long second, neither moved. Then Lyra's power surged — raw, wild, beautiful. The ground beneath them cracked, and Damon was thrown back, landing hard. He laughed breathlessly, shaking his head.
"That's more like it."
Lyra rose slowly, her eyes glowing silver-white. The forest shimmered with her energy — even Selene's voice seemed to tremble with awe.
"The Moonfire awakens. But beware, child… power born in pain demands a price."
Lyra clenched her fists. "Then I'll pay it."
From somewhere deep within the woods, a wolf howled — not Damon's, not any mortal's. It was older, colder, and carried a message that made her heart stop.
"The Alpha has begun the hunt."
Lyra's pulse spiked. Her eyes darkened with fury.
"Kian," she whispered.
And the ground at her feet split open, glowing red beneath the silver light.