Chapter five

The morning in the Hollow did not come with sunlight. It came with silence.

Not the kind Lyra had grown used to in the Shadow Ridge Pack, the silence of fear and submission—but a heavy, reverent quiet. Sacred. The fire in the den had burned down to embers, and frost glazed the edges of the roots that wove into the ceiling. Still, Lyra felt warmer than she had in days. Not because of the fur Kaelen had draped over her shoulders, but because something inside her had shifted.

She was no longer hunted prey. Not just a cursed orphan.

She was becoming something else. Something dangerous.

Kaelen stood outside the den when she emerged. His coat was off, muscles taut and gleaming with sweat as he struck a heavy staff against a carved stone pillar, over and over, each strike sending sharp echoes through the glade. The rhythm was intentional—measured, almost meditative.

Lyra leaned against the tree, watching.

"You don’t sleep?" she asked.

Kaelen didn’t stop. "Didn’t need to. The Hollow restores you."

"I feel... different," she admitted. "Lighter. But also heavier. Like there’s something inside me I haven’t named yet."

He paused and turned. His gaze lingered on her longer than it should have.

"That’s your wolf. She’s still waking."

Lyra stepped forward slowly. "How do I train her?"

He tossed her a smaller staff. She caught it with a fumbling grip.

"Start by trusting her."

Their first session was brutal.

Kaelen didn’t go easy on her, and Lyra didn’t want him to. She slipped, stumbled, got knocked down—more than once flat on her back in the snow. But every time she rose, she felt the fire in her chest grow brighter.

He showed her how to read body language, how to anticipate attacks, how to breathe through instinct. It wasn’t just fighting—Kaelen was teaching her how to listen to her wolf.

"You were raised to survive on scraps," he told her during a break. "Taught to shrink, to submit. That ends now. You fight from your core. Not because someone told you to. But because you were born to."

She met his eyes. "And if the wolf inside me doesn’t trust me yet?"

Kaelen came closer, voice low. "Then show her who you are."

---

By midday, her muscles burned and her palms were raw. Kaelen handed her a flask of cool water as they rested by the ruins. The air shimmered faintly around the Hollow’s borders, the runes humming in quiet pulses.

Lyra sipped, then asked, "Why do you stay here? Why not go back to Nightshade?"

Kaelen’s jaw tightened. "Because if I do, the curse will wake again."

"You said you were cursed," she said gently. "But I saw what happened to you. The visions in the Hollow—your family—"

"—died because of me," Kaelen cut in. "Because I couldn’t control the bond. The rage."

Lyra stared at him. "But the curse... it’s connected to my bloodline too. Isn’t it?"

Kaelen nodded. "You and I—we’re threads in the same knot. The prophecy said the last of the moon-marked line would awaken the curse—or break it."

"Moon-marked?"

He pointed to her forearm, where faint silvery lines now shimmered just beneath the skin.

"You didn’t see it before because your shift hadn’t come. But it’s there. An ancestral mark. It means you’re descended from the First Circle. The original bloodline tied to the Moon Goddess herself."

Lyra’s breath caught. "And the curse?"

"A corrupted version of the mate bond. Twisted by blood rituals, centuries ago. It started as a punishment for betrayal—but it evolved. Became a sickness passed down in blood. Your blood."

She stood slowly. "So what happens if we complete the bond?"

Kaelen’s voice turned hoarse. "Either salvation... or ruin."

---

That night, the Hollow darkened. Clouds smothered the moon, and an unnatural cold swept through the glade.

Kaelen was on his feet immediately, senses sharp. "Something’s coming."

Lyra stepped beside him, her wolf clawing just beneath her skin.

A low howl pierced the air.

Then another.

Kaelen’s eyes flared gold. "Scouts. Shadow Ridge. They’ve breached the border."

Lyra growled, surprising even herself. "They’ll find nothing but stone and ash."

Kaelen glanced at her. "We can’t risk leading them here. The Hollow may protect us—but only if we don’t bring violence into it."

She clenched her fists. "Then we take the fight outside."

They moved swiftly through the woods, shadows flitting between the trees. Lyra's steps were sure now, her body humming with instinct. Her wolf didn’t speak in words—but she felt the presence, guiding her, sharpening her.

They found the scouts near the border—two lean wolves and one warlock cloaked in silver. The moment they saw Kaelen, they hesitated.

The warlock sneered. "Draven. So the rumors are true. You’ve claimed the cursed omega."

Kaelen stepped forward, voice like steel. "You’re trespassing. Leave."

"We came for the girl. She belongs to Alpha Dren."

Lyra growled. "I belong to no one."

The warlock raised a hand—and Kaelen moved.

The fight was swift, brutal. Lyra focused on the second wolf, dancing between his strikes, using everything Kaelen taught her. When she finally slammed her staff into his side, she felt a surge of power ripple from her fingers.

He hit the ground with a gasp—and didn’t rise.

Kaelen took out the warlock with a snap of bone and a flash of golden eyes. The last scout fled into the trees, howling.

Kaelen cursed. "He’ll bring more. We need to vanish again."

Lyra looked down at her hands. "I felt it. The magic. It’s stronger now."

Kaelen nodded. "The Hollow’s revealing you. But it’s also calling attention we can’t afford."

They raced back through the trees, but Lyra knew something had changed.

This wasn’t just about hiding anymore.

It was about preparing.

Because Dren wouldn’t stop hunting her.

And next time, he wouldn’t send scouts.

He’d come himself.