The wind carried the scent of rain as
Lira stepped into the old library built deep in the heart of the Blackwood
camp. It wasn't much—a square stone building tucked behind the alpha's den—but
it was quiet, hidden, and filled with history.
She needed quiet.
Her fingertips brushed the worn spines
of leather-bound journals, most covered in dust. Scrolls were stacked
carelessly on shelves, mixed with ancient texts and faded maps of Silver Hollow
before it was even called that.
"Looking for bedtime stories?" a voice
asked behind her.
She turned. Cassian leaned against the
doorframe, arms crossed.
"Looking for answers," she replied.
He nodded, stepping inside. "Found
any?"
"Not yet. But I can feel something
here. Something old." Her fingers hovered over a dark green tome. "The curse.
My bloodline. It's all tied to this place."
Cassian approached slowly. "Your
mother spent time in here. Mara Kane. I remember."
Lira looked up sharply. "You knew
her?"
"I was young," he said. "She came here
often. Always with questions. And always alone."
Lira opened the green book, its pages
yellowed with age. Symbols lined the margins—ones she'd seen in her visions.
Her breath hitched.
"She was trying to seal the Veil,"
Lira murmured. "But something went wrong."
Cassian nodded grimly. "The rift in
the Veil weakened the balance. Your mother tried to close it, but the magic
needed… it demanded sacrifice."
Lira's chest tightened. "She
sacrificed herself?"
Cassian hesitated. "Some say yes.
Others… say she sacrificed someone else."
Lira slammed the book shut.
"I won't be like her," she whispered.
Outside, Zane stood watching the
training field. Wolves sparred, growling and shifting, their muscles tense with
effort and aggression.
But his mind wasn't on the fight.
It was on her.
Everything about Lira unsettled
him—the way her voice lingered in his ears long after she'd spoken, the way her
scent wrapped around him, soft and wild.
And the bond… that bond burned.
Cassian's words from earlier echoed in
his head: You can't keep pretending this isn't real.
Zane clenched his jaw. He wasn't
pretending.
He was surviving.
The last time he'd trusted someone
with that kind of closeness, they'd died. And now here was Lira—cursed,
dangerous, unpredictable—and somehow, he couldn't stay away.
He turned sharply and headed toward
the library.
Lira stood frozen in front of a
mirror.
But it wasn't her reflection staring
back.
It was Mara.
Younger. Strong. Eyes blazing with the
same fire Lira had seen in her visions.
The mirror shimmered with magic,
glowing faintly around the edges. A whisper slipped through the glass, soft and
ancient.
"The blood calls. The Veil opens.
Choose wisely."
Lira's heart raced. "What does that
mean? What am I supposed to choose?"
The reflection flickered—Mara's face
replaced with the bloody symbol from her nightmares. The mirror cracked at the
edges, but the image burned into her mind.
Zane burst through the door.
She jumped, turning to face him,
breathless.
"What happened?" he asked, eyes
scanning the room.
She pointed at the mirror. "I saw her.
My mother."
Zane approached slowly, looking into
the glass.
It showed only their reflections now.
"You're sure?"
"She said something. About a choice.
About the Veil." Lira pressed her hand to the glass. It felt warm.
Zane studied her. "Your magic is tied
to the rift. Maybe she's trying to warn you."
"She's dead."
"Magic doesn't die. Not like we do."
Their eyes met.
Neither of them said it out loud—but
they both felt it: something was coming.
And it was getting closer.
Back in the main camp, Seraphina
circled a group of younger wolves near the fire pit, her smile pleasant, her
words sharp.
"She's manipulating him," she said
softly. "The Alpha doesn't see it yet, but she's driving a wedge between us
all."
"Shouldn't we trust his judgment?" one
asked.
Seraphina arched a brow. "Even leaders
can be blinded by lust."
The wolves looked uneasy. Doubt
planted its first roots.
"She's dangerous," Seraphina
continued. "And if we wait too long, we won't be able to stop her."
No one spoke, but the tension in their
eyes was enough.
She smiled.
Good.
That evening, Lira found herself
walking the edge of the warded forest, guided by instinct more than reason.
The trees whispered to her.
Literally.
Voices—faint, echoes of the
past—rippled through the branches. Her mother's voice. And another… unfamiliar
but sharp. Male. Cold.
Julian.
She pressed her hand to a tree, eyes
fluttering closed.
Suddenly, the world around her
vanished, replaced by a vision.
She was in Silver Hollow—but twisted.
Broken. The sky bled red. The Veil was torn open, shadows pouring through.
And at the center—her.
Eyes glowing. Blood dripping from her
palms.
Zane stood across from her, wounded
and angry.
"You chose wrong," he whispered.
Then everything exploded into white.
Lira gasped awake, falling to her
knees in the dirt.
Zane was already beside her, his arms
catching her just in time.
"You keep collapsing like that and
I'll start carrying you everywhere," he muttered, voice tight with worry.
She clutched his shirt, shaking. "I
saw the future. A version of it. Silver Hollow… it was gone. And you—"
"I'm fine," he said. "You're safe."
"No," she whispered. "None of us are."
He pulled her to her feet, but he
didn't let go.
The glow between them sparked again,
brighter this time.
"Why does this keep happening?" she
asked, voice hoarse.
"The bond's growing," he said.
"Whether we want it to or not."
She looked up at him. "And do you?"
His jaw clenched. "I don't know."
But his hand didn't leave her waist.
And her fingers didn't release his
shirt.
Later, alone in her den, Lira opened
Mara's journal again.
Her mother's handwriting was neat,
controlled—until the last few pages, where it turned frantic.
"The Veil weakens every cycle. Blood
can anchor it, or destroy it."
"If they find her—if they find
Lira—they will use her blood to break it for good."
"The eclipse… it's the key. And the
end."
Lira stared at the page, her fingers
trembling.
The eclipse was coming.
And with it—Julian. Elias. The hybrid.
She wasn't just cursed.
She was the lock.
And maybe the weapon too.