THE MORNING WOLF(2)

Nyx spent the next several hours combing through the archives, Caelan working beside her as they pulled volumes from the shelves and searched for any mention of Skinwalkers, pre-lunar species, or the history that had been erased.

What she found was frustratingly incomplete.

References to events with pages missing. A section on "First Kind" that had been cut from a book with a knife, the edges of the remaining pages still rough with the violence of the deletion. A chronicle of the early pack that ended abruptly in the middle of a sentence, the rest of the volume containing nothing but blank pages.

"Someone has been editing this pack's history for generations," she said, her voice flat with frustration. "Surgically. Deliberately. They've removed everything that could tell me what I am."

Corvus appeared at her elbow, holding a book that was smaller than the others, its binding stained with something that might have been blood. "This one escaped the purges," he said quietly. "It was hidden in the walls of the old temple, discovered during renovations thirty years ago. I've never shown it to anyone."

Nyx took the book carefully, her hands trembling slightly. The pages were fragile, the ink faded to a faint brown. But the words were still legible, and what she read made her blood run cold.

The First Kind were the original inhabitants of this realm, before the Goddess came and claimed dominion. They were shape-changers, creatures of both wolf and human, blessed with abilities that the Goddess envied and feared. She could not control them, could not command them, could not bend them to her will. And so she destroyed them.

The Skinwalkers were the last remnant of the First Kind, their abilities diluted over generations of persecution. They could absorb the essence of others, could reshape their bodies and minds, could become anything they touched. The Goddess's priests hunted them to extinction, or so they believed. But some survived, hidden in the shadows, waiting for the day when they could reclaim what was stolen from them.

Nyx read the passage three times, her mind racing. She felt Caelan's presence at her shoulder, reading over her, his expression darkening with understanding.

"The first kind," she whispered. "The pre-lunar species. The Skinwalkers aren't just a mutation or a curse. We're the original inhabitants of this realm. The Goddess stole everything from us, and now—"

"Now you're the remnant," Caelan finished. "The last trace of something that was supposed to be destroyed."

Nyx closed the book carefully, her hands shaking. "The Keepers, the Council, the entire power structure of this realm—it's all built on a lie. They're not protecting anyone. They're covering up a genocide."

She felt the fragment of Caelan's essence pulse inside her, responding to her anger. The pack bond hummed with her emotions, and she felt a ripple of disturbance through the connected wolves. They felt something, even if they didn't understand what.

"There's more," Corvus said, his voice small and hesitant. "At the end of the book. A passage about what the first kind could become if they absorbed enough power. What the Goddess feared most."

Nyx turned to the final pages, her breath catching in her throat.

If the First Kind were to regain their full power, they would be unstoppable. No pack, no territory, no goddess could stand against them. They would remake the world in their image, and the world would be theirs for eternity. This is the truth that the Goddess feared. This is the truth that must never be revealed.

Nyx stared at the words, her mind struggling to process what she was reading. The power she'd felt when she absorbed Caelan's essence—the temptation to take everything, to become something beyond mortal understanding—it wasn't just a side effect of her ability. It was her birthright. The legacy of the First Kind. The thing that the Goddess had tried to destroy.

"I could become something unstoppable," she said slowly, the words tasting strange in her mouth. "If I absorbed enough power—if I took enough essence from the right sources—I could remake the world."

Caelan's hand found hers, steady and warm. "Is that what you want?"

She looked at him, truly looked at him, and felt the weight of the question. The power was there, pulsing in her veins, singing to her blood. She could feel it calling, could feel the hunger rising to answer.

"No," she said, and the word surprised her with its certainty. "I don't want to remake the world. I don't want to be a goddess. I just want to survive. I want to be free of the fear. I want to live without hiding."

Caelan's grip on her hand tightened, his silver-gold eyes meeting hers. "Then that's what we'll do. We'll find a way to control the power without losing yourself. We'll find a way to be free."

Nyx nodded, feeling the weight of the book in her hands. "But first, we need to understand the truth. All of it. The edits, the omissions, the lies that have been told for centuries. We need to know who's been hiding this history, and why."

"An impossible task," Corvus observed, his voice tinged with despair. "The archives have been censored for generations. There's no way to know what's been removed, let alone who removed it."

"Maybe there is." Nyx turned back to the book, her eyes scanning the final pages. "The First Kind had abilities beyond absorption. They could sense lies, detect deception, see through the veils that others created. If I can access that power—if I can learn to use what I've already absorbed—I might be able to see what's been hidden."

The tether flared with Caelan's doubt, his fear for her safety. "That's dangerous. You're already struggling to control what you've taken. If you push further—"

"Then I'll have to learn to control it." Nyx turned to face him, her expression fierce. "I can't keep hiding. I can't keep running. If I'm going to survive in this world, I need to understand what I am. And to understand what I am, I need to find the truth."

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken fears. Then Caelan nodded, his hand finding hers.

"Then we'll do it together," he said. "I'm not going to let you walk into this alone."

Corvus cleared his throat, his expression a mixture of fear and excitement. "I can help," he said. "I've been collecting fragments of the truth for decades. I can show you what I've found, the pieces I've managed to preserve. But it will be dangerous. The Keepers—"

"To hell with the Keepers," Nyx said, her voice hard. "I'm done being afraid of them. I'm done being afraid of everything. From now on, we move forward. Whatever it takes."

She felt a surge from the pack bond through Caelan—a wave of loyalty that surprised her. Three hundred hearts answered hers, their allegiance shifting, acknowledging something they didn't fully understand. The wolves of the Obsidian Throne felt her resolve. They felt her determination

. And they began to believe.

The truth was buried. The truth was buried in centuries of lies, and Nyx was going to dig it up.

One page at a time.