The Night of the Festival

The moon was full and bright over the hills. It's light covered the clearing like a silver blanket. From a distance, there was the sound of drums, mixed with laughter, music, and the crackle of big fires. It was the night of the Moon Festival. The pack had gathered to dance, eat, and celebrate under the moon.

Lyra Vale stood quietly at the edge of the crowd. Her hood covered her dark hair as she tried to stay hidden. Her heart beat too fast. She should not have come here. Not after all these years. Not after what happened.

It had been four years since she left Nightfang territory. She had walked away from everything, even from him.

She pressed her fingers against the small leather pouch hanging around her neck. Inside was the only reason she had come back. A rare herb that could heal her little girl’s fever. Isla was only three years old, and she fell sick every full moon. Her sickness was getting worse each time. No doctor in the towns of humans could explain it. No medicine worked. Only here, in her old pack’s land, could she find what might save her.

But being here was dangerous. Too many eyes. Too many old memories. Too many chances for the past to find her again.

“Keep your head down,” she whispered to herself. She walked past the tents and stalls, her long cloak touching the ground. The festival smelled of roasted meat, sweet wine, and burning pinewood. Children ran with small lights in their hands, young wolves laughed while drinking, and old ones told stories by the fire.

And somewhere here, he was. Damien Nightbane. The Alpha she once loved. The man who did not know he had a daughter.

Lyra felt her chest tighten. His dark eyes. His deep voice. The way he held her that one night, when everything felt like a promise.

She pushed the memory away. There was no time for this.

She found the herb stall at the far end of the clearing. The old woman who sold herbs wrapped a bundle of moonleaf in paper and handed it to her. “For the little one?” the woman asked, looking at Lyra with pale eyes.

Lyra froze. “How did you”

The woman only gave a small smile. “The moon tells its secrets.”

Before Lyra could ask more, a cold feeling spread through the air. The music stopped. The crowd became quiet. People moved aside. And there he was.

Damien Nightbane.

Tall and broad shouldered. Dressed in black with a silver crest on his chest that caught the light of the moon. His dark eyes searched the crowd like a hunter. His scent reached her before his gaze did. Pine, rain, and something that made her heart jump.

He looked stronger now. Colder too. But still the same.

Lyra turned quickly and pulled her hood lower. Her fingers held the moonleaf tight as she slipped into the crowd. Not now. Not like this.

She had to leave.

But fate was not kind.

“Stop!” a voice called behind her. It was not loud, but it was sharp enough to make her freeze. “You. With the hood.”

Her heart raced. She did not turn around. Her legs moved faster, pushing through the stalls, past the fire, under the hanging lights. The path to the forest was close. If she reached it, she could escape before anyone followed.

Then came the sound. A deep growl that only an Alpha could make.

“Lyra.”

Her name. Spoken after four long years. It was enough to stop her for a moment. Just one moment.

A hand grabbed her wrist.