Chapter 2

Alone in the oppressive silence, I reached inward, touching the sliver of ancient consciousness that resided within me—the Elder Whisper.

It was a fragment of the first Moon Goddess's grace, my secret burden and my only hope.

"Initiate," its voice echoed, like stones grinding deep beneath the earth. "You have chosen the Path of the Guardian's Agony. This ritual requires a sacrificial sealing. Your life essence will be the mortar that repairs the crumbling prison. The process will be one of profound suffering. We advise the gentler Lunar Slumber."

Behind my eyes, I saw my real mother.

Not the polished, distant Luna of the Silvermanes, but my fierce, warm Blood-Claw mother.

Her rich, dark fur was patchy, falling out in clumps, her powerful frame diminished and wasting from the relentless Rot-Curse.

This was the deal I had struck with the Whisper. My service, my very life, in exchange for her cure.

I ignored the warning. I selected yes.

With my path irrevocably set, I allowed myself a final, bitter glance at my personal communicator.

The private family channel was still alight with more images and praises for Lillian's perfect night.

I felt a pang, not of jealousy, but of a deeper, wearier grief—for the eighteen years I had been foolish enough to believe their love was real.

I tossed the remainder of the cake into the energy recycler—a fitting end for a sad, sweet lie—and followed the insistent pull of the Whisper.

It led me away from the gleaming spires of the pack compound, toward the territory's blighted edge: the Darkness Maw.

The canyon was a deep, jagged scar in the earth, its depths breathing out a thin, cold mist that stank of decay and forgotten magic. This was where a primordial entity of pure shadow and consuming hunger, the Shadow-Warg, was imprisoned.

And now, its ancient prison was failing.

My communicator shrieked, an ugly, modern sound violating the sacred quiet.

"Lyra! You spiteful little viper!" Finn's voice was a shard of glass in my ear. "What poisonous lie did you whisper to Lillian? She's taken Moon-Silver! She says she's not worthy to live because of you!"

I felt... nothing. A profound, hollowed-out emptiness.

How many times had this exact play been staged? The accusation, the hysterics, the immediate blame. I'd lost count long ago.

"Did she take enough?" I asked, my voice flat and devoid of emotion. "Is she gone?" I didn't wait for the inevitable torrent of abuse. I closed my fist, focusing the slight strength of my shift, and crushed the communicator in my palm.

The sharp plastic and metal fragments bit into my skin, a small, grounding pain that felt more real than their manufactured drama.

I turned my back and walked into the mouth of the canyon.

The path was treacherous, littered with loose shale, and the air grew colder with every step.

I found a flat-topped rock, worn smooth by time, and sat, waiting for the Whisper's final signal to proceed to the core.

A powerful hand slammed into my shoulder, throwing me from the rock and into the coarse, unforgiving dirt.

My jaw rattled, my vision swimming with black spots.

"Lyra! You are poison incarnate!" Ethan stood over me, his pristine white healer's robes a stark, almost blasphemous contrast to the grim, primal surroundings. "I thought you were just spoiled! That we had indulged you too much! But I see it now with perfect clarity—you are genuinely malicious!"

"You have the filth of the Blood-Claws running in your veins!" He spat the name of my birth pack like it was the most vile curse. "Eighteen years of our upbringing, our care, our education, and you're still a feral, ungrateful creature!"

He grabbed my upper arm, his healer's grip deceptively strong, and wrenched me to my feet. "You will get on your knees before the Packstone and beg the Moon's forgiveness! You will not move a muscle until Lillian is safe and you have atoned for this... this evil!"

I fought back, twisting in his grasp, my own desperation giving me strength. "Let me go, Ethan! You don't understand what's happening!"

My struggles were futile against his trained strength. He shoved me backwards, and my head snapped back, cracking hard against the unyielding, jagged face of the canyon wall.

Bright spots of light exploded behind my eyelids. Warm, sticky blood welled instantly from a gash on my forehead and began a slow, hot trickle down my temple.

Ethan froze, his grip loosening for a fraction of a second, a flicker of his healer's instinct surfacing through the blinding rage.

"Ethan," I said, wiping the blood from my eye with the back of my hand, leaving a smeared, crimson trail across my skin. "I have never, ever laid a hand on Lillian. I have never wished her harm."

His moment of hesitation passed, his face hardening into a mask of disgusted disappointment. "No? Then why are you here, skulking in this cursed place like a thief in the night? Tell me, sister," he sneered, "are you here for the view?"

I looked him dead in the eye, my own gaze steady and unwavering, letting him see the absolute truth in it.

"I am here to Eclipse. I am here to seal the Shadow-Warg before it breaks free and devours us all."