Chapter 6

Lyra's discovery of her healing abilities haunted her in the days that followed. The memory of the injured wolf and the warmth that had radiated from her hands lingered like a dream she couldn't quite grasp. She had replayed the moment over and over in her mind, searching for answers, but none came. It was as if a part of herself had been unlocked, revealing a power she had never known existed.

Her nights became restless, filled with vivid dreams that left her breathless and confused. In one dream, she stood beneath a massive silver moon that seemed impossibly close, its light enveloping her like a second skin. She reached out toward it, feeling its pull, its energy thrumming through her veins. But just as she was about to touch it, the moon began to fracture, shards of light scattering into the void. Lyra always woke up before she could piece it back together.

One evening, as the moon rose high above the forest, Lyra decided she couldn't ignore the strange pull any longer. The connection she felt wasn't just a coincidence. It was something deeper, something ancient. She had to understand it.

She chose a clearing near the edge of the forest, where the moonlight spilled freely onto the earth. The night was quiet, save for the soft rustle of leaves and the occasional chirp of crickets. Lyra stood in the center of the clearing, her bare feet sinking into the cool grass as she tilted her head toward the sky.

"Why me?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "What does this mean?"

The moon didn't answer, of course, but its light seemed to grow brighter, bathing her in its glow. Lyra closed her eyes, focusing on the warmth she had felt when she healed the wolf. She held out her hands, palms up, and took a deep, steadying breath.

At first, nothing happened. The forest remained still, the air cool against her skin. But then, faintly, she felt it—a gentle hum, like the softest vibration, emanating from within her. It started in her chest, spreading outward until it reached her fingertips. Lyra's eyes flew open in surprise as she saw her hands begin to glow, a pale, silvery light that mirrored the moon above.

The sensation was both exhilarating and terrifying. Lyra took a shaky step back, the glow flickering as doubt crept into her mind. "What is this?" she murmured, staring at her hands as if they belonged to someone else.

Instinctively, she reached for the nearest tree, her fingers brushing against its rough bark. The moment her skin made contact, the light flared, and she felt a rush of energy that left her breathless. The tree, which had been leaning precariously with a deep gash in its trunk, began to straighten, the wood knitting itself back together as if time were rewinding.

Lyra stumbled back, her heart pounding. She stared at the tree, then at her hands, a mix of awe and fear swirling within her. Whatever this power was, it wasn't normal—not for a werewolf, not for anyone. She had heard stories of wolves with unique abilities, but they were just that: stories. Legends whispered around fires, tales of ancient bloodlines and forgotten magic. Could she somehow be connected to those stories?

She spent the next several nights testing her abilities, careful to stay hidden from prying eyes. She discovered that the glow in her hands only appeared under the moonlight, as if the moon itself were the source of her power. The stronger the moon's light, the more potent her abilities seemed to be. On nights of the full moon, she felt almost invincible, her connection to the energy around her so vivid it was almost overwhelming.

But the discoveries also came with questions. Why had these powers only awakened now? Had they always been a part of her, waiting for the right moment? Or had her rejection and subsequent journey somehow triggered them? Lyra had no answers, only a growing sense that her abilities were tied to something far greater than herself.

One night, as Lyra sat by the edge of the clearing, she remembered the tales her mother used to tell her when she was a child. Stories of the Moon Blessed, an ancient lineage of wolves said to have been touched by the moon's light. According to the legend, the Moon Blessed were healers and protectors, their powers a gift meant to preserve the balance between the natural world and the werewolf packs.

The stories had always seemed like myths, too fantastical to be real. But now, Lyra wasn't so sure. The connection she felt to the moon, the way her abilities seemed to flow from its light—it couldn't be a coincidence. Could she be one of the Moon Blessed? And if so, what did it mean for her future?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the faint sound of rustling leaves. Lyra tensed, her wolf instincts kicking in as she scanned the shadows. The forest was alive with subtle movements, but nothing seemed out of place. She relaxed slightly, but the uneasy feeling lingered.

"Whatever this is," she whispered to herself, her gaze fixed on the moon, "I'll figure it out. I have to."

For the first time in weeks, a sense of purpose stirred within her. Lyra didn't know where her journey would lead or what dangers lay ahead, but she was determined to uncover the truth. The moon had given her a gift, and she would honor it—no matter the cost.