Chapter 3- Not Enough

Lyra

As the moon climbed higher, the villagers grew more restless. Lyra sat in a dark corner, afraid to be seen.

Would her wolf change things? Would they accept her? Or would she be left behind, standing alone as others forged bonds?

Lyra watched Seraphina loop her arm into Theron’s, tilting her head and batting her eyelashes. Theron smiled charmingly, their faces inches apart. Was this what their marriage would look like? Nothing but a ghost at Theron’s side?

“You look lost in thought, Lyra,” Aunt Kyline broke through her reverie, soft and low.

Kyline and Maris were twin sisters, her aunts on her father's side. They were always kind to her, although their truths were not always gentle. 

“I’m just…” Lyra trailed off. “We’re supposed to be mated, Aunt Kyline. But.. I don’t feel connected.”

Fated mates, destined to be together, were supposed to form an unbreakable, deep bond, often from the moment they met. 

Kyline’s expression softened for a moment. “The Moon Goddess doesn’t make mistakes, Lyra,” she said, her tone cryptic. “But sometimes, the fates test us. Sometimes, it’s what you choose to make of it.”

Lyra’s fear broke through her voice, “How can I lead the pack if I can’t even feel the bond that’s supposed to be the most innate?”

Everyone said Theron was her mate. Soon they would wed, and she would stand beside him, leading the pack. But it didn’t feel the way the legends said it would.

Kyline studied her, “You are not defined by others. Not by Seraphina’s whispers. Nor the pack. Define yourself. Perhaps… you’re not meant to walk the path everyone expects.”

Lyra’s chest tightened. “But… the bond. The legends…” She motioned to Theron across the field, laughing with Seraphina. “Maybe he’d be better off with her. Maybe they feel it.”

“It’s time,” someone exclaimed excitedly, resounding through the gathering. 

The villagers moved toward the center of town, enthusiastic murmurs spreading like wildfire. Lyra stood on shaking legs. Kyline walked with her.

Lyra swallowed, looking back at the ground. “What if I’m not enough? What if I can’t lead?”

“The fated mate bond may be the deepest connection,” Kyline assured her, “but you can’t let that bond be the measure of who you are or what you can do.”

The town square was bathed in soft moonlight, cobblestones glistening underfoot as villagers gathered in clusters. Lyra stepped forward, heart pounding, feeling smaller with each step, every pair of eyes scrutinizing her.

“You define your own path.” Kyline whispered into her ear, “You’ll find your way—just don’t give in to your fears.”

As the clock struck midnight, Lyra stood at the center of the gathering, poised for the shift that would define her future. A dull thud pounded in her ribs as the pack watched her, expectant. This was the moment that would prove her worth, help her finally belong.

Nothing happened. Her skin stayed human. She squeezed her eyes closed, hoping, praying. The shift still didn’t come. Was she not worthy? Was she-? She choked on the air. 

I’m not enough.

Others burst into wolves, their howls rising around her. Their strength, and unity made her feel smaller, more out of place. The ache deepened. Why couldn’t she feel it too? Why didn’t the pull of the pack come to her the way it did for them?

Some paused, watching her eagerly, waiting for her to join them. Each second stretched into a thousand.

Finally, their patience broke, and they shifted too. Powerful strides carried them into the woods.

Lyra’s knees trembled, and she fell to the ground. Her father’s crestfallen face seared into her mind, and a sob tore from her throat. This is it, isn’t it?

The truth she had always known. But never dared to speak. She wasn’t meant to lead. She didn’t belong in this pack. Didn’t belong anywhere.