Chapter 4

The world turned black, not the kind of darkness that came with nightfall, or the shadowed corners of the forest. This was something else—something alive. It curled around me thick and suffocating, pressing against my skin like unseen hands as cold as death. The air itself had weight, heavy with the scent of damp earth and something foul, something ancient. I wasn't falling, I was sinking.

Panic clawed at my throat as I thrashed, but there was nothing to fight, no ground beneath my feet, no sky above just an endless void stretching in every direction. "It was the warlock's magic" the thought came to my mind like a realization.

I had heard stories about Eldrador's sorcery—how the warlocks could twist reality, bending the world to their will. But I had never expected to be caught in it, never imagined the sheer wrongness of it pressing into my lungs, wrapping around my ribs like vines dragging me under. I tried to shift, tried harder to call on my wolf but nothing. The magic held me down smothering the beast inside me like a flame starved of oxygen. And then from the depths of the darkness, I heard Zephyr.

His voice slithered through the void low and mocking.

"You think yourself strong, little wolf?"

A pulse of energy crackled through the air, cold and sharp.

"You know nothing of true power."

The darkness twisted, coiling tighter around me. I gasped as something like claws scraped against my skin not physical but felt like a presence burrowing deep, peeling back layers of thought of memory.

A sharp blinding pain lanced through my skull and then, I was in a vision, I was no longer in the void.

I was standing in Moonstone Forest but not as it was now. The trees were taller, their branches stretching wide like open arms. The air was thick with the scent of wolves so many of them. I could hear them moving through the underbrush, a symphony of footfalls and breath of life.

A hand, warm and familiar closed around mine.

I turned, who I saw surprised me. For it was my mother Lucia. Her dark curls cascaded down her back, her golden eyes alight with something fierce and unbreakable. She knelt in front of me, her fingers brushing against my cheek.

"Lyra," she whispered, her voice thick with urgency. "You must listen."

I tried to speak, but the words stuck in my throat. Her grip tightened.

"They are coming for us," she said. "For you."

I shook my head. "Who?"

Her eyes darkened. "The pack. The warlocks. They all want what is in your blood."

A howl shattered the air, my father's voice a deep, aching sorrow filled me.

I knew what happened next, I knew this was the night they died.

"No," I breathed, shaking my head. "No, no, I don't want to see this."

But the memory would not let me go, the shadows shifted and suddenly I was standing in the clearing, my mother's hand ripped from mine. The air was thick with the scent of blood, my father, Lyke stood before me his massive wolf form bristling, his fangs bared, his eyes locked onto something beyond the trees. A figure emerged from the darkness. Not a wolf, a warlock, Zephyr. He stood where Ryker had stood just moments before in the present, his dark robes shifting like smoke.

My father lunged to attach him, immediately Zephyr lifted his hand and said words I could not understand, and my father collapsed. A scream lodged in my throat, but I'm not sure if it escaped and the memory shattered.

I was back in the void, gasping, my body trembling from the aftershocks of what I had seen. Zephyr's voice curled around me like smoke.

"You see now, don't you?" he murmured a flicker of laughter.

"You were never meant to be free."

And then the darkness pulled tighter, and the world disappeared once more.

I couldn't breathe. The darkness coiled tighter pressing against my ribs, my throat, my mind. Every nerve in my body screamed, but there was nothing to fight, nothing to claw at. Only an endless crushing weight.

And Zephyr's voice low, curling, filled with knowing.

"You don't understand, do you?" he whispered. "You think this is about revenge."

His laughter slithered through the void.

"This is about destiny."

A sharp pulse of magic tore through me, sending fire through my veins. I gasped, choking on air that wasn't there, my body convulsing as something deep inside me stirred something ancient, something waiting.

"No," I gritted out. "You're wrong."

"Oh, little wolf." His voice was almost gentle now. "You have no idea who you are."

Another pulse of power, and then a flash of memory. This time, I wasn't in the forest. I was somewhere else, somewhere colder. A chamber carved from obsidian, the air thick with the scent of burning herbs and something darker, something metallic. Figures moved in the shadows, their robes flowing like water, their voices rising in a low, rhythmic chant. A ritual and at the center of it all, a child small, Fragile, it was me. I staggered back, my mind reeling. "This wasn't the night my parents died, this was before".

And standing at the edge of the chamber watching with dark hungry eyes. It was Valtira. My breath caught in my throat. Ryker's mother and the Zephyrs sister. She used dark magic to make herself hybrid, a betrayer. She wasn't just part of the warlock's schemes, she had been there from the very beginning. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, giving their family ties. I tried to move, to reach the child, my younger self, but the memory blurred, shifting, slipping through my grasp and the chamber vanished. The shadows thickened again and Zephyr's voice curled through the ai, triumphant.

"You were never meant to lead the pack," he murmured. "You were meant to end it."

The words sent ice down my spine.

"No," I whispered. "That's not true."

But doubt slithered into my mind sinking its claws deep. "Had my whole life been a lie? Had my parents known? Had they fought to save me from something far worse than death?"

The darkness pressed closer and for the first time I felt it, a pull. Something deep inside me responding to Zephyr's words, to the magic curling around my bones. Not fear, not rage but something older, something that had been waiting to be woken.

Zephyr chuckled. "Ah," he breathed. "There you are."

The void pulsed once, twice then shattered and I fell hard. The world rushed back in a violent wave my body slamming against cold earth. I gasped, my lungs burning as real air flooded back in. My vision swam, the stars overhead spinning in dizzying patterns. Distantly, I heard voices, shouts, growls, it was Ryker's pack.

But above them, one voice cut through the chaos.

"Lyra!"

"Ryker" I breathed, my voice feeble.

I turned my head just as he reached me, his silver eyes blazing. His hand closed around my arm, firm, steady. And then I saw what was behind him.

The shadows were still moving, the shadows were still alive. And standing at the center of them, his eyes locked onto mine, Zephyr smiling.

"You can't run from this," he murmured.

The ground trembled beneath us, the air crackling with magic. And I knew this wasn't over, it was only just beginning.