16
The night air shimmered with silver.
The full moon hung low over Ashmoor’s forest courtyard, heavy and luminous, casting light sharp enough to paint shadows across stone. The castle had quieted for the evening. The nobles were behind locked doors, the guards posted with orders not to follow.
Tonight wasn’t for politics.
Tonight was for Lyra.
Evanna stood barefoot in the grass, cloak wrapped tightly around her as she watched her daughter dance across the courtyard, arms outstretched, curls catching the moonlight like spun thread.
“She’s… different tonight,” Rylan said softly from beside her.
“She always is on the full moon,” Evanna replied. “It’s when she’s most herself.”
“She’s glowing.”
Evanna glanced sideways at him. “I know.”
And she was.
Not in some metaphorical, poetic way. Not just because she was happy or laughing.
Actually glowing.
A faint shimmer had begun to rise from Lyra’s skin like stardust. Her feet moved soundlessly over the grass. The shadows bent around her as if the moon was trying to hold her in its arms.
Evanna’s heart raced—not with fear, but recognition.
She’d seen this once before.
When she was carrying her.
Lyra closed her eyes, breathing in deep.
She didn’t know what this feeling was—but it made her chest flutter and her palms tingle.
The wind felt like it was whispering.
The stars felt closer than they should.
She opened her hands and stretched her arms out wide—like maybe, just maybe, she could catch the moon in her palms.
Something shifted in her bones.
Like a song.
Like a howl.
And then—her feet lifted off the ground.
Evanna gasped.
“Rylan…”
“I see it.”
She hovered no more than a foot above the grass, but her body was perfectly still, balanced in midair like she belonged there. The wind around her swirled upward. Her eyes opened—and they weren’t just golden.
They were lit from within.
Then, just as quickly, she lowered back down. Quiet. Calm.
Like the earth exhaled and caught her.
Lyra blinked. Looked at her hands.
“I think the moon’s teaching me,” she whispered.
Evanna stepped forward, kneeling beside her. “How do you feel?”
“Warm. And… strong. And a little dizzy.”
Evanna smiled through her awe and fear. “That’s a pretty normal start.”
Rylan crouched beside them. “We’ll help you learn to control it. You don’t have to be afraid.”
Lyra reached out and touched his face with both hands. “I’m not afraid. I’m chosen.”
The words sent chills down Evanna’s spine.
Because she hadn’t taught her that.
And Lyra’s voice sounded almost… echoed. Like something else had spoken through her.
Later that night, when Lyra was safely tucked in bed, fast asleep and humming in her dreams, Rylan paced the firelit sitting room, eyes wide with thought.
“She’s not just a royal-born wolf,” he said. “There’s magic in her. Ancient. Maybe ancestral.”
Evanna sat with her hands folded tight in her lap. “I know. I knew when I was pregnant. I felt it in my bones. Something bigger.”
“She didn’t shift tonight.”
“No,” Evanna said slowly. “Because the moon didn’t ask her to.”
Rylan stopped pacing. “What is she?”
Evanna looked at the flames, voice quiet.
“She’s the beginning of something the court doesn’t understand yet.”
“And what do we do?”
Evanna stood, moved to the window, and looked out into the night.
“We keep her safe. We teach her everything. And when the time comes…”
She turned, eyes glowing with purpose.
“We let her show them all why they were wrong to be afraid.”