Lyra Rae Novels & Stories

At the back of the group, Lyra Hale rolled her eyes. She was fifteen. She had the Hale grey eyes and the Thorne dark hair. She was wearing a school uniform that had a tear in the sleeve—a souvenir from the girls in the upper-sector academy who liked to remind her that being a "Historical Hale" didn't mean she had credits today. While the group was distracted by the hologram of Oryn (labeled: Unknown Bodyguard), Lyra slipped away. She ducked under the velvet rope. She ran toward the South Quadrant.

She went to find her daughter. Lyra was ten years old and she had her grandmother's quality of stillness in her — the specific quality of someone who was always processing more than they were showing. She had Kyson's precision when she chose to apply it. She had Miranda's stubbornness, which Miranda had learned to acknowledge without apology.

I bolted up in joy, unconsciously hugging Kelly. It seemed pretty ridiculous but it was worth the wait. I looked at my best friend and a wave of fright coursed through me, she wasn't looking all happy and jovial anymore, she was full of bad energy and lingering eyes. I could feel her offloading dozens of rage aura and she could wolf out if I moved any nearer. "Rachael, you have been chosen by the moon goddess to become the Luna of the Crimson Moon Pack thereby becoming the Alpha's Mate," Sari said, hitting his bong staff on the floor.

The people whispered that the gods had taken his light away, not knowing that a secret heartbeat still echoed within the kingdom’s walls. Far from the palace, in a hidden valley surrounded by silver-leaved trees, a small cottage glowed softly under the morning sun. Inside it, a child laughed — clear, bright, and alive. Lyra. Her golden curls fell in waves like her mother’s, her eyes deep blue like the calmest part of the sea. She had grown strong and wild, untouched by courtly sorrow. The midwife, old Mira — the only soul who knew the truth — watched her run barefoot through the grass. “Careful, my little star,” she said softly. “The world doesn’t yet know your name.”

Lyra The morning after the gala smells like flowers trying too hard. Peonies and press. Someone—Rhoades—must have rotated the vase, because they’re facing the light like obedient swans. The headlines on my phone are doing the same thing: angling themselves toward approval. Marcellus’s fiancée in black steals the night. Who is Lyra Quinn? Five things we (don’t) know. Claudia Verin smiles through it—sources say “unbothered.”

The kind that said a piece had just moved on a board he’d assumed was fixed. “You want to know who I am?” she asked. “Fine. Let me be clear, on the record, where your stenographers and your future historians can’t pretend I whispered it. “I am Lyra Hale. I am a surgeon. I am a wolf. I am the mother of a pup. You would happily turn into a political pawn if I let you. I am the woman Aiden Voss broke when he chose your crown over our bond—and the one who learned to set her own bones after that.”

She simply sat with her, a quiet anchor in the storm of her fear. As Lyra began to work, her hands glowing with a soft golden light, Kai felt tears prick at his eyes. It was the same light that had once flowed through him, the same healing energy that had touched so many lives. Now it flowed through his daughter, a continuation of the legacy he had built. Lyra's hands moved with a grace and confidence that spoke of countless hours of practice, of a deep and abiding commitment to the art of healing.

she said kindly, taking her ice cream back and rising to her feet before she turned to leave. Lyra clutched the hem of her dress, summoning courage as she quickly jumped to her feet. "My name is Lyra," she said quickly, her voice barely above a whisper, but she heard it and turned. "Thank you for the... bandaid; it's pretty." The girl smiled, tucking a curl behind her ear. "I'm Rey. Nice to meet you, Lyra." Before Lyra could say more, a woman who looked strikingly similar to her called from across the path. Rey glanced back before turning to her with a quick smile. "I have to go! Byeee!" she called, hurrying off.

“This is the Lunar Wolf everyone is talking about? She looks ready to collapse.” “This is Aria,” Kael confirmed. “Aria, meet Lyra. My second in command. She will oversee your training.” Lyra snorted. “I give her two days before she begs to go back to her comfortable packhouse.” “Then you do not know me at all,” I said, meeting her challenging stare. Lyra smiled. It was not a kind smile. “We will see, princess. We will see.” She turned and walked away, and I knew I had just made an enemy. Or maybe a future friend. With wolves like these, it was hard to tell.