Novel & Cerita Lyra Rae

' I just laughed at their banter about their daughters, though it made me crave that future. Aura and I have kept contact with Blaine and Lainee through our shared link and I even opened one with Cleo. Once I'd remembered I was able to do it with Jacob, Ryan, and even Cristian, I opened a link with her. She said it had to be some crazy warrior thing, leading me to become more curious with what comes with being a Black Moon member. I haven't confronted Tate yet about my curiosity, only Blaine and Lainee. They told me to ask Tate's mother, who was apparently a keeper for the council and kept all their documents and books. She knew all the history.

This is exactly why the situation with the Omegas really affected her so much that she sank so much of her money to put things correct for the poor females. Among the teenagers is a different story, Lyra is the number one poster girl for our strong teenage girls. She has her own fan club and even though she makes out how silly it is I can see how she smiles at each and every one of them. Never leaving anyone out, she includes them all and preaches acceptance and loyalty.

It was some minutes past 6pm. Caitlyn Hugh was dragging her tired feet back home after a long day at work. As she walked along the lonely road, she looked back at intervals, hoping for a cab to appear. Although she was very much aware that cabs do not ply that road, Caitlyn prayed for a miracle. She took out her phone from the small bag she hung on her shoulder and connected her headset to the device. She was going to click play on her favourite music, but the sound of a car honking halted her.

But how? Lyra sat on the cold floor, her back against the rough stone wall, her mind racing through every detail of the prophecy that Elias had shared with her. She hated to admit it, but she needed his knowledge to understand the intricacies of the ritual. She had the raw power within her, but Elias had the wisdom to guide her. Without it, she feared she might walk into the same trap Kieran had set for her—only this time, there would be no escape.

Baby Lyra let out a delighted, squeaky coo, her tiny hands waving in the air as she tried to catch the dancing specks of light. Lucas, unable to help himself, stepped up to the edge of the dais. As if drawn by an invisible thread, Lyra’s gaze instantly snapped away from the light specks and locked onto his silver eyes. She let out a happy babble, her small hand reaching directly toward him. Lucas smiled radiantly, reaching out to let her tiny fingers wrap around his thumb once again. "Presenting Lady Lyra!" Eryx called out smoothly to the crowd, raising his glass of sparkling wine. "May her life be as bright as the stars she is named for!"

Lyra was propped up against a mountain of plush velvet pillows in the resting chamber of the master suite, her white-blonde hair spilling over her shoulders in soft, relaxed waves. Her body was still vibrating with the deep, resounding tiredness of making life, but her spirit was lighter than air, buoyed on a joy so great it was indescribable. Her golden eyes were fixed only on the small, intricate carved crib by the bed, the star-metal and polished quartz masterpiece Caelum had spent weeks crafting with his own hands.

The woman had not addressed him as General Thorne. She had called him by another name. A name he clearly recognized. "I haven't heard that name," Thorne said quietly, "since I was a child." The woman looked at him. "You were not supposed to hear it again." Riven's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?" She finally looked toward him. "My name is Lyra." Her gaze moved back to Thorne. "Lyra Vale of the House of the Moon." Kael stepped forward. "Why have you come?"

Lyra said, her voice a low, solemn vow. While Finn ran to fetch a shovel, Lyra walked towards the burning house, the heat a fierce, oppressive weight. She could feel the eyes of the village on her, a mixture of fear and a fragile, dawning hope. She was not just a warrior. She was a shaman, a priestess of the wild, a woman who could speak to the fire and read the stories in the smoke.

LYRA The knock echoes through the too-perfect house, and my stomach sinks. I raise a brow at Talia. “If that’s Zane, you better pretend I'm not here and release a rogue mouse in his kitchen.” But it’s not. It’s a beautiful woman with huge dimples, a riot of short, shiny black curls, and more sunshine energy than any werewolf has a right to possess. “Hi!!” she beams. “You must be Lyra! I’m Elara. Zane’s sister.”

Beside it, a new standard waited, white field, silver crescent, a braid of storm-blue at the edge: Lyra’s crest. Lyra walked with her arm in Ryker’s, her white hair braided with the blue tips she’d asked me to do for her; we matched. Her winter blue formal gown was studded with hundreds of tiny moonstone crystals that caught the light when she moved. It was full-length and elegant, a queen who had walked through fire and chose softness anyway. The murmur that rolled through the pack wasn’t noise. It was belonging, family, cheers called out of a thousand throats at once, she had always been their beloved Luna.