CHAPTER SEVEN

Lyra’s pov

Beta Garrick didn’t say anything as he turned on his heel and gestured for me to follow him out of the King’s chambers. I obeyed without a word, my heart still hammering from everything that had just happened. I kept my eyes low, aware of the weight of the King's presence behind me even after the door shut.

The hallway we walked through was eerily quiet, the soft pads of Garrick’s footsteps the only sound aside from my own uneven breathing. But as we descended a winding set of stairs and passed beneath an arched stone hallway lined with flickering torches, I started to hear more signs of life: distant chatter, the rush of water, the clinking of dishes. The castle was awake.

Eventually, Garrick stopped at a carved wooden door, opening it without knocking. Steam came out, warm and fragrant, wrapping around me like a soft hug. My feet froze in place.

It was a bathing chamber—far larger than I expected. The floors were polished obsidian and in the center sat a wide, shallow pool, its surface covered with steam. Water trickled gently from lion-faced taps in the walls. Delicate vials of oils and soaps sat on a low wooden bench, along with folded black towels that looked too soft to be real. On a nearby stool was a neatly folded pile of clothing.

I turned to Garrick, who simply gestured toward the room. “I’ll be waiting outside. Take your time.”

He shut the door behind me without another word, and for a second, I just stood there… trembling.

Then I looked down at myself in a mirror.

Blood. Dirt. Dried sweat. Crusty, covered in the remnants of fear and violence. My dress—or what was left of it—was torn and stained, ripped at the sleeves and across my stomach. My feet were black with soot, my nails chopped and raw.

I didn’t realize how heavy it all felt until I started peeling it away.

The moment I dipped into the warm water, I almost cried.

Heat enveloped me, sinking deep into my bones and chasing away the cold that had followed me for days. My skin sighed under the warmth, aching muscles relaxing for the first time in what felt like forever. I sank deeper until only my nose peeked above the surface and let myself float there for a moment—weightless, clean.

I scrubbed until my skin stung and was tinged pink. Washed away the blood from my arms, the bruises that hadn’t broken skin, the lingering scent of Moonstone and rot. It was more than dirt I was washing off—it was grief. Trauma. Powerlessness.

When I finally stepped out and wrapped myself in the towel, I felt lighter.

Not healed. Not whole.

But human again.

On the stool, I found the clothes Garrick had left. Not a dress—thank the goddess—but a two-piece set I wasn’t expecting: a soft, deep charcoal tunic with a slight v-cut at the collar, laced at the sides with thin leather cords. The sleeves were long, hugging my arms like a second skin, and the fabric—some sort of fine woven wool—was surprisingly gentle against my sensitive skin. The pants were a matching shade, slim-fitted but flexible, with reinforced knees and subtle stitching down the sides that looked… tailored. Practical. Like what a warrior might wear on less formal days.

At the very top of the pile was a pair of dark boots with silver straps and a soft fur lining inside. Beside them, a small pendant shaped like a crescent moon lay waiting.

I held it in my hand for a long time before slipping it around my neck.

When I finally stepped out of the bathing chamber, clean and dressed, Garrick’s eyes flicked over me once and something unreadable passed across his face.

He didn’t say anything. Just nodded once, turned, and began walking.

And I followed. Ready for whatever was next.

The silence between us stretched as we walked, but I didn’t mind it.

Beta Garrick didn’t seem like the talkative type. His presence was powerful, but not overwhelming like the King’s. He moved with a kind of quiet strength—calculated, steady, every step purposeful. I trailed slightly behind him, my steps slower thanks to the dull ache still clinging to my ribs. But I kept up, watching everything around me with wide, disbelieving eyes.

We had barely taken ten steps past the palace gates before my entire world began to unravel.

This… this wasn’t what I’d been told.

Where there should have been ruins or emptiness there was life.

The kingdom was vast and wide beneath the cover of towering, ancient trees. The forest itself hadn’t stopped at the edge of their walls, it blended with the city, with thick vines wrapped around stone arches and moss creeping over roofs in a way that felt intentional. Magical. Like the forest and the people who lived within it were one and the same.

Houses of dark stone and silverwood fillec the area, some high in the trees connected by suspended bridges, others built at ground level with thick glass windows and carved symbols I didn’t recognize. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, laughter echoed in the distance, and the scent of baked bread and pine teased my senses.

Children ran barefoot down cobbled paths, some with tiny ears twitching on their heads, others mid-shift, fur rippling as they chased one another through the grass. No one seemed afraid. No one was hiding.

A group of warriors sparred in an open clearing to the left—half of them in human form, the others in wolf form, all focused and fluid like they’d been training together for years. No chaos. No mindlessness. No madness in their eyes.

This wasn’t some cursed land filled with rogues.

This was a kingdom.

Alive. Thriving. Hidden from the world… from me.

It was beautiful. Wild and serene all at once. It felt like stepping into a storybook I’d never been allowed to read.

But despite the wonder blooming in my chest, I couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes watching me. Whispers followed me, half-said words laced with suspicion, confusion. I didn’t blame them. I reeked of Moonstone. I could still feel it in my blood, like a stain that wouldn’t wash out.

Garrick said nothing.

And so neither did I.

We kept walking, past marketplaces shaded by thick canopies, through a winding trail carved into the roots of massive trees. The kingdom was layered, levels and terraces stacked into the forest like it had grown from the ground along side the trees instead of being built.

And still, I couldn’t believe it existed.

The Forbidden Forest was supposed to be… death. A trap. Beyond it? Nothing. That’s what they told us. That’s what they hammered into us back at Moonstone.

“Why?” Beta Garrick’s voice broke the silence.

I blinked, glancing at him. “Why what?”

“Why did you run into the forest that day?” he asked, eyes forward. “You could’ve gone in any direction. Why the forest?”

I inhaled slowly.

Because that question had haunted me too.

“I had no choice,” I murmured, my fingers curling into my sleeves. “When my father helped me escape the dungeons… he told me to run. Straight into the Forbidden Forest. I tried to argue, told him it was suicide. But he insisted. He looked me dead in the eye and said, ‘If you go there, you’ll survive.’”

I swallowed.

“I don’t know how he knew. He didn’t explain. Just… pushed me. And then he stayed behind.”

Garrick was silent.

I didn’t expect sympathy. I didn’t expect anything.

But still, the quiet between us shifted. Not warmer… but less cold.

We turned at a corner, the path opening to reveal a stone bridge carved over a glowing stream. Pale blue moss lit the water, casting soft light across the underbelly of the trees. It was… unreal.

“How do you all exist?” I asked quietly. “What is this place really? I mean… what’s the name of your kingdom? Your pack?”

He looked at me then, one brow raised. “Shadowfang.”

“Shadowfang.” I tested the word on my tongueike it was something forbidden.

He seemed puzzled. “Why do you ask like… like you’ve never heard of us.”

“Because I haven’t.”

I met his eyes, swallowing my nerves. “Back in Moonstone, they told us there was nothing past the forest. That it was cursed. Filled with rabid, mindless rogues that killed everything on sight. Beyond that? Barren wastelands. No life. No hope. No return.”

I gestured around us. “This—everything I’m seeing—it’s the opposite of what I was taught.”

His expression shifted. Just slightly. But enough.

“You don’t…” he said slowly, voice quiet. “You don’t know about the war?”

I stared.

“What war?”

His jaw tensed. Then he let out a slow breath and gestured toward a wooden bench shaded beneath a tree with petals like blood and snow.

“Sit. It’s going to be a long story.”

My feet moved before my brain caught up, heart thudding like thunder in my chest.

War?

What war had Moonstone Kingdom hidden?