The border was alive.
Not with movement—but with intent.
Kael felt it through the ground beneath his boots, through the wolves lining up behind him, through the way Lyra's hand trembled slightly where it still rested against his back. The Ashen Vale did not announce themselves the way honorable packs did.
They waited.
"Do not cross," Kael called into the trees, voice carrying with Alpha authority. "You are standing on Nightfang land."
The shadows shifted.
Three figures stepped forward—cloaked, hoods drawn low. Their scent was wrong. Old. Burned. Like magic scraped raw and left to rot.
"We smelled something ancient," the tallest one said, his voice smooth and curious. "We came to see if the stories were true."
Lyra's fingers tightened involuntarily.
Kael shifted subtly, placing himself fully in front of her. "You're not welcome."
The man smiled. "You misunderstand. We're not here for hospitality."
The air pulled.
Lyra gasped softly—not in fear, but in recognition. Whatever lived inside her stirred again, but this time it bristled, like a shield rising before she asked for it.
Kael felt the change instantly.
"Lyra," he said without turning. "Breathe. Don't push."
"I'm not," she whispered. "It's… doing it on its own."
The ground near the stream shimmered faintly. The border stones—ancient markers—began to glow, lines etching themselves brighter as if remembering something long forgotten.
The Ashen Vale wolves froze.
"…That's not just wolf magic," one hissed.
"No," the leader murmured, eyes fixed on Lyra's silhouette. "That's heritage."
Kael's patience snapped. "Leave. Now."
For a moment, it seemed they might listen.
Then one of them took a single step forward.
The light flared.
Not violently. Not explosively.
Protectively.
A warm, invisible force rolled outward from Lyra, stopping just short of the Ashen Vale wolves. It pressed against them like a held breath—unyielding, undeniable.
Lyra's eyes widened. "I didn't mean to—"
"You didn't hurt them," Kael said, awe threading his voice despite himself. "You held the line."
The leader of Ashen Vale took a careful step back, reassessing. "Interesting," he said softly. "Very interesting."
Kael's eyes burned. "You will not return."
The man smiled again, but this time there was calculation behind it. "Oh, Alpha. We already will."
The shadows withdrew.
Silence fell—thick, stunned.
Lyra swayed suddenly, the effort catching up to her. Kael turned instantly, catching her before she could fall. His hands were firm, steady, respectful—but the closeness made something tighten in both of them.
"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I didn't know how to stop it."
"You did perfectly," he said quietly. "You protected without attacking."
Her lashes fluttered as exhaustion pulled at her. "Is that… bad?"
"No," Kael said, lifting her carefully. "That's exactly what a Luna does."
The word hung there—unclaimed, unspoken by law, but heavy with meaning.
From the treeline, Mira watched with knowing eyes.
The Elders would not ignore this.
The Ashen Vale would not forget it.
And Lyra—gentle, gullible, innocent Lyra—had just announced herself to a world that would not let her remain hidden.
Not anymore.