Semua Bab Hiding His Heir: The Rejected Luna’s Return: Bab 1 - Bab 10

The air in the Blackwood Pack territory always tasted of pine and ancient secrets, but today, it carried the bitter metallic tang of a coming storm. For Lyra Thorne, the atmosphere was more than just weather; it was a reflection of the suffocating pressure mounting in her chest.Today was her eighteenth birthday.In the world of the Shifters, eighteen was the threshold. It was the day the wolf finally fully merged with the human soul, the day the "scent" matured, and most importantly, the day the Moon Goddess whispered the name of one’s fated mate. For most, it was a day of celebration, of floral garlands and heavy casks of ale. For Lyra, it felt like a sentencing.She stood by the frost-cracked window of the kitchen, her fingers tracing the rough grain of the wooden counter. At eighteen, she was still small, her frame lacking the lithe, muscular grace of the other she-wolves in the pack. While the others radiated health and a primal, intoxicating aroma, Lyra smelled of nothing but th

Lyra stood frozen in the center of the Great Hall, the weight of a hundred judgmental gazes pressing down on her shoulders. She could feel the bond between her and Silas screaming. It was a physical sensation, like a wire being pulled taut until it began to fray and smoke. She looked at him—her mate, her supposed protector—and saw nothing but the cold, polished surface of a tombstone.Silas Blackwood didn't look like a man in pain. He looked like a man performing a necessary, if slightly annoying, chore. He held Isabella’s hand with a possessive grip, a clear signal to the pack and the visiting dignitaries that his choice was made."Tonight was supposed to be a night of fated beginnings," the Alpha, Silas's father, said, his voice booming but lacking its usual warmth. He looked at Lyra with a mixture of pity and annoyance. "But the Moon Goddess sometimes tests us. She presents us with challenges to see if we are worthy of the path we have chosen.""The 'challenge' is quite clear, Fath

The Forbidden Forest did not welcome Lyra; it merely tolerated her presence, like a mountain tolerates a pebble. The trees here were different—gnarled, ancient, and draped in thick, weeping moss that seemed to absorb all light. Even the thunder felt distant here, a muffled growl from a world Lyra had left behind.She walked for hours, her senses operating on a frequency she didn't understand. The silver-fog that had clouded her mind for eighteen years had been burned away by the agony of the rejection, leaving behind a terrifying clarity. She could feel the "spirit" of the forest—a vast, sleeping consciousness that was slowly becoming aware of the intruder in its midst.Her body was failing her, despite the strange new energy. The cold was deep, a bone-chilling frost that her wet dress did nothing to combat. Her breath came in white plumes, and her fingers were turning a worrisome shade of blue.I can’t stop, she told herself. If I stop, I die.But the forest had other plans. As she r

The news of the pregnancy should have been a joy, a fulfillment of a she-wolf's deepest instinct. Instead, it felt like a cold chain being wrapped around Lyra’s neck. For three days, she sat in the corner of the cave, refusing to eat, staring at the cave entrance where the gray light of the Forbidden Forest teased the shadows.She hated the life inside her. She hated that it was a tether to Silas, a piece of him that she couldn't simply run away from. Every time she felt a twinge in her abdomen, she was reminded of his hands, his scent, and the way he had looked at her with such clinical disgust."You are wasting away," Hokan said on the fourth morning, dropping a freshly skinned rabbit near her feet. "If you die, the child dies. If the child dies, the bloodline ends. Perhaps that is what you want?"Lyra looked up, her eyes sunken. "He rejected me, Hokan. He tried to kill me. Why should I carry his legacy? Why should I bring a child into a world where its

The silver-hounds were beasts of nightmare—wolves bred with dark alchemy and conditioned to hate the scent of magic. They lunged across the frost-covered grass of the valley, their jaws snapping with bone-crushing force.Lyra waited until the lead hound was inches from her throat.In a movement that defied the physics of the human body, she dissolved. One moment she was there; the next, she was a plume of black smoke that flowed around the hound like water. She materialized behind the beast, the obsidian tooth in her hand slashing through its hamstrings with clinical precision.The hound let out a high-pitched yelp and collapsed.The other warriors began to fire silver-tipped crossbow bolts. Lyra didn't dodge; she danced. The shadow-gift allowed her to see the trajectory of the bolts before they were even fired. She moved in a series of jagged, rhythmic blurs, appearing and disappearing in the mist."What is she?!" one of the warriors scr