CHAPTER 5

The red moon rose only once every five years. Most packs treated it as an omen of change, of endings, of beginnings. But in totally different ways. Some wolves stayed inside on nights like this, wary of what the sky might be trying to say, and others thought it was a bad omen.

Lyra had never been one of those wolves. She was mesmerised by it. It was the only time she felt like she could truly feel the moon within her.

She slipped out of the pack house long after most pack members had retired for the night, moving silently through the forest. Above her, the moon hung low and enormous, washed in a deep, eerie crimson that bled across the treetops.

It made the forest look otherworldly. Ancient. Alive. And she found it utterly beautiful.

Lyra’s breath caught as she reached an opening in the trees, revealing the neutral clearing. The moonlight painted everything in shades of red and black, making the area look ethereal.

She walked out and sat on her normal spot, the fallen log, drawing her knees to her chest. The silence felt heavy, but not lonely. She stared at the moon, admiring the fire behind it. It felt like it was calling out to her, trying to give her a message. But she couldn’t hear it clearly.

She didn’t expect anyone else to be out here. And she hadn’t arranged to meet Talia tonight.

Which was why she nearly jumped out of her skin when a soft voice said, “You’re not very sneaky tonight.”

Lyra whipped around.

Talia stood a few paces away, her hair glowing copper under the red moon. She looked almost like she’d stepped out of one of the old stories the elders whispered around fires.

Lyra exhaled. “Man, Talia. You scared me.”

Talia grinned. “Good. Now we’re even for all the times you’ve snuck up on me.”

Lyra rolled her eyes. “I don’t sneak. I just walk quietly.”

“That’s literally the definition of sneaking.”

Lyra huffed, but she couldn’t hide her smile. “What are you doing out here?”

Talia stepped closer, her gaze drifting to the sky. “Couldn’t sleep. The moon felt… loud.”

Lyra blinked. “Loud?”

“You know what I mean.” Talia waved a hand. “Like it was calling me.”

Lyra did know. She’d felt the same pull, the same restless tug beneath her ribs.

Talia sat beside her on the log. They didn’t speak for a long time. They didn’t need to. The red moon washed over them, casting their faces, their hair, their clothes in a strange, shimmering glow.

Eventually, Talia let out a slow breath. “My father hates this moon.”

Lyra glanced at her. “Why?”

“He says it stirs rebellion.” Talia plucked a piece of grass from the ground and twirled it between her fingers. “Says wolves get ideas on nights like this.”

Lyra snorted. “What kind of ideas?”

“Oh, you know,” Talia smirked. “Running away. Breaking rules. Making friends with the enemy.”

Lyra elbowed her lightly. “I’m not your enemy.”

“Don’t tell my father that.”

Lyra’s smile faded slightly. “Does he… expect a lot from you?”

Talia’s expression shifted, still playful, but with something heavier beneath it. “He expects everything from me.”

Lyra waited. Giving her time to open up… if she wanted to.

Talia sighed, leaning back on her hands. “I’m supposed to be perfect. Strong. Obedient. Ready to take over Bloodpine someday. But I’m not like him. I don’t want to lead while constantly at war.”

Lyra’s chest tightened. “You don’t have to be like him.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” Talia’s voice was soft, not accusing. “You’re already everything Stormfall wants.”

Lyra let out a humourless laugh. “You think that?”

“You’re the perfect Alpha’s daughter,” Talia said. “You’re strong. Brave. Everyone talks about you like you’re already their future.”

Lyra stared at the moon, its red glow reflecting in her amber eyes. “That’s the problem.”

Talia frowned. “What do you mean?”

Lyra hesitated. She’d never said this aloud, not to her father, not to her pack, not even to herself in a way that felt real.

“Sometimes,” she said quietly, “I wish I weren’t the Alpha’s daughter.”

Talia’s head snapped toward her. “Lyra…”

“I don’t mean I don’t love my pack,” Lyra added quickly. “I do. But everything I do is watched. Judged. Expected. I don’t get to make mistakes. I don’t get to choose my own path. It’s already chosen for me, and I don’t like that.”

Talia was silent for a moment.

Then she nudged Lyra’s knee with her own. “Sounds like we’re both trapped.”

Lyra let out a breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding. “Yeah. I guess we are.”

They sat in silence again, but this time it felt different. They shared the same fate, and they understood each other more than anyone else could.

After a while, Talia said, “Do you ever think about what it’ll be like? When we’re in charge?”

Lyra snorted. “Terrifying.”

“Agreed.” Talia grinned. “But also… maybe exciting?”

Lyra raised a brow. “Exciting?”

“Well, think about it.” Talia leaned forward, eyes bright. “We could change things. Make them better. Make them less… hostile.”

Lyra blinked. “You mean between our packs?”

“Why not?” Talia shrugged. “Someone has to break the cycle eventually.”

Lyra stared at her, stunned by the simplicity of it. The boldness. The hope.

“You really think we could do that?” she asked.

Talia grinned. “We’re already doing more than anyone else ever has.”

Lyra laughed softly. “Fair point. But it would be difficult and could still be seen as treason.”

Talia shifted, turning to face her fully. “Let’s make a pact.”

Lyra blinked. “A pact?”

“Yes.” Talia held out her hand. “When we take over our packs, Stormfall and Bloodpine, we’ll make things better. We’ll stop the fighting. We’ll stop the hatred. We’ll… I don’t know. Try something different.”

Lyra stared at her hand.

A pact between future leaders of rival packs.

It was reckless and naive.

And yet… Lyra placed her hand in Talia’s.

“Okay,” she said. “It’s a pact.”

Talia’s smile widened. “Good. Because if you back out, I’ll haunt you.”

Lyra snorted. “You can’t haunt me if I’m still alive.”

“Oh, I’ll find a way.”

Lyra shook her head, laughing. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re stuck with me now,” Talia said proudly.

Lyra squeezed her hand once before letting go. “I guess I am.”

The red moon hung above them, casting their joined shadows across the area in front of them. Two young wolves from rival packs, making promises they had no right to make.

But the moment felt right. True. Like the red moon had sealed their pact.

Talia leaned back again, stretching her legs out. “You know, if we’re going to lead our packs someday, we should probably practice giving orders.”

Lyra raised a brow. “Oh really?”

“Yes.” Talia cleared her throat dramatically. “Lyra of Stormfall, I command you to fetch me a pinecone.”

Lyra stared at her. “Absolutely not.”

Talia gasped. “You’re already breaking the pact!”

“That’s not part of the pact.”

“It is now.”

Lyra rolled her eyes. “Fine. Then I command you to stop talking.”

Talia grinned. “Impossible.”

Lyra groaned. “I regret this pact already.”

“No, you don’t.”

Lyra didn’t. Not even a little. But she wasn’t going to admit that right now. So instead, she just smirked.

The night stretched on, quiet and peaceful. They talked about everything and nothing, training mishaps, annoying packmates, the time Talia accidentally shifted in the middle of a formal dinner and knocked over an entire table when she was younger.

Lyra laughed so hard her stomach hurt. For a little while, the world felt simple and safe.

Eventually, the moon started to dip lower, its red glow fading away. Talia stood, brushing down her trousers.

“I should go,” she said reluctantly. “If my father finds my bed empty, he’ll assume I’ve run away and send a search party.”

Lyra snorted. “Would he be wrong?”

“Probably not.”

Lyra stood as well. “Be careful.”

“You too.”

They parted, both walking to their own border, each slipping back into their own territory. But Lyra paused once she was alone, glancing back to the clearing.

The red moon was only just visible now. She touched her chest, where the warmth of their pact still lingered.

Someday, she thought.

Someday, they would change everything.