Lyra learned quickly what it meant to belong nowhere.
The pack did not shun her openly—no snarls, no bared teeth—but their silence carried weight. Conversations softened when she approached. Eyes followed her movements, curious and cautious, as if she were a puzzle no one wanted to solve aloud.
She wasn't announced.
She wasn't claimed.
And yet… she lived in the Alpha's house.
That alone was enough.
Lyra kept her head down as she crossed the courtyard, arms wrapped around a basket of herbs Mira had asked her to deliver to the infirmary. The task was simple, grounding. She liked errands. They gave her purpose without expectation.
"Is that her?"
The whisper wasn't meant for her ears—but she heard it anyway.
"She doesn't look like much."
Lyra's steps faltered for half a second before she forced herself to keep walking. They don't mean harm, she told herself quickly. They're just curious.
Still, the words settled somewhere tender.
Inside the infirmary, the warmth and scent of dried plants soothed her nerves. Mira smiled when she saw her. "You're doing well," she said, taking the basket. "The pack's wounds are healing faster."
Lyra brightened slightly. "I'm glad."
Mira studied her for a moment. "Have you noticed the looks?"
Lyra hesitated, then nodded. "I think… I'm in the way."
Mira sighed softly. "You're standing in a space that hasn't been filled in a long time."
"What space?" Lyra asked.
Mira didn't answer directly. "Being Alpha doesn't just mean leading battles. It means choosing a Luna. And until that choice is made—or refused—the pack feels… unbalanced."
Lyra's fingers curled into her sleeves. "I don't want to take something I don't understand."
"That," Mira said gently, "is exactly why they notice you."
Later that evening, Lyra found herself on the edge of the training grounds again. Kael stood at the center, issuing commands, his presence steadying the restless energy of the wolves around him. He looked every inch the Alpha.
Untouchable.
When their eyes met briefly, something passed between them—quiet, restrained. He nodded once. Respectful. Distant.
It stung more than she expected.
As night fell, the pack gathered for a meeting she hadn't been invited to. Lyra remained behind, seated on the steps of the Alpha's house, moonlight spilling over her shoulders.
She pressed a hand to her chest, breathing slowly.
"I don't belong here," she whispered to the stars.
The air shifted.
Not wind. Not scent.
Something listened.
A soft glow flickered beneath her skin—so faint she almost missed it. The moonlight around her seemed to bend, drawing closer, warmer. The ache in her chest eased, replaced by a strange calm.
Lyra startled, pulling her hand away.
The glow vanished instantly.
Her heart raced. What was that?
Footsteps approached.
Kael stopped a few paces away, his expression unreadable. "You should've been inside," he said.
"I didn't want to interrupt," she replied quietly.
He studied her for a long moment, then spoke more softly. "You're not in the way, Lyra."
She looked up at him, eyes searching. "Then why does it feel like I'm standing in someone else's place?"
Because you're standing in mine, his wolf growled—but Kael did not say it aloud.
Instead, he said, "Because you're more than the pack knows how to place."
She swallowed. "And you?"
"I know," he said. "That's what makes it complicated."
They stood there, the distance between them filled with things unsaid—titles unclaimed, bonds unspoken.
A Luna without a crown.
An Alpha holding the line.
And between them, a power—and a choice—that could no longer remain hidden for long.