Lyra woke to a stirring she could not explain, a sudden tension coiling in her chest like a live wire. The crisp September air slipped through the partially open window, carrying scents she could not name, yet something about them felt familiar, intimate, and urgent. Her heart thumped with an unfamiliar rhythm, and Cinder, coiled deep within her, screamed—not in fear, not in anger, but in a voice that cut straight through the mundane awareness of her morning. It was a scream of need, insistence, and recognition. Lyra bolted upright in her bed, the sheets tangling around her legs, emerald eyes wide, scanning the empty room.It was then she heard it, faint yet unmistakable—a mirrored urgency, a roar from somewhere outside her consciousness. Solstice’s voice, piercing and raw in her mind, echoing through her own wolf. Oscar’s wolf, calling to her, insisting she find him. Her breath caught. A sensation unlike anything she had ever felt before pulsed through her veins, a magnetic pull that
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