Lyra dreamed of water.
Not the stream—this was deeper, endless, glowing from within. She stood barefoot at its edge, unafraid, though she knew she should be. The water whispered her name, each ripple forming words she almost understood.
Come closer.
She obeyed.
The moment her toes touched the surface, vines burst upward, wrapping gently around her ankles, her wrists—never hurting, only guiding. Light poured from her palms, warm and alive.
"You are not broken," the dream whispered.
"You were restrained."
Lyra gasped—
—and woke up screaming.
Kael was at her door instantly.
He didn't knock.
"Lyra."
She was shaking, curled into herself on the bed, eyes wide and unfocused. The room smelled faintly of rain and wildflowers.
"I didn't mean to," she blurted out. "I was asleep, I swear. I didn't touch anything."
Kael crossed the room in two strides and crouched in front of her. "Hey. Look at me."
She didn't.
"Lyra."
Slowly, she lifted her eyes.
"You're safe," he said, voice firm but gentle. "Nothing bad happened."
Her breath hitched. "The walls were glowing."
"They stopped."
She nodded weakly. "I think I make things… react."
Kael swallowed. "You don't make them. They respond."
She frowned, clearly not understanding. "Is that… dangerous?"
"To the wrong people," he said honestly. "Yes."
Her lips parted. "People like my old pack?"
Kael's silence was answer enough.
A knock sounded.
Before Lyra could move, Kael was already between her and the door.
"Who is it?"
"It's Mira," came a woman's voice. "I brought food."
Lyra brightened instantly. "She's nice. She smiled at me earlier."
Kael's eyes darkened.
He opened the door just enough to accept the tray, then closed it firmly.
Lyra blinked. "Why didn't you let her in?"
"Because," he said carefully, "not everyone who smiles means well."
Lyra looked hurt. "She said she wanted to help me learn the pack rules."
Kael's jaw tightened. "Did she ask you questions?"
Lyra nodded eagerly. "She asked where I'm from, and what I can do, and if I ever made plants grow when I was sad—"
Kael stood abruptly.
"Did you answer?"
"Yes," Lyra said softly. "Was I not supposed to?"
A low growl slipped from Kael's chest before he could stop it.
He turned back to her, forcing his voice to calm. "Lyra, listen to me. You don't owe anyone answers. Not here. Not ever."
Her shoulders curled inward. "I didn't know. I thought being honest was good."
"It is," he said. "But innocence is dangerous in a world that feeds on truth."
She looked down. "I just don't want to upset anyone."
Kael's expression softened painfully.
"You won't," he said. "Not while I'm here."
She peeked up at him. "You sound angry."
"I am," he admitted. "But not at you."
He hesitated—then sat beside her on the bed, careful not to touch her unless she leaned closer.
She did.
Just barely.
"I dreamed," she said quietly. "Something told me I was restrained."
Kael's voice went low. "You were."
"By who?"
"By fear," he said. "By cruelty. By people who didn't deserve you."
Her fingers curled into the blanket. "Will they come?"
"Yes."
She went pale.
"But," he continued, "they will not take you."
Her eyes searched his. "How do you know?"
"Because," he said, and for the first time let the truth bleed into his voice, "you are mine to protect."
Her heart skipped.
"Mine?" she whispered.
Kael inhaled slowly. "I didn't mean ownership."
She nodded quickly. "I don't mind."
That stopped him.
Their eyes locked. Something electric passed between them—quiet, restrained, dangerous.
Outside, a wolf howled.
This one was close.
Kael stood, instincts flaring. "Stay here. Lock the door."
Lyra hesitated. "Kael?"
He paused.
"Will you come back?"
Always.
"Yes," he said firmly. "I promise."
As he left, Lyra pressed a hand to her chest.
The air shimmered.
Roots beneath the pack house shifted—awakening.
And far beyond the territory line, unfamiliar wolves lifted their heads.
They had found her.