Morning came quietly to Nightfang.
Too quietly.
Lyra noticed it as she always did—not by sound, but by absence. The keep usually woke with a low hum: voices drifting through stone corridors, footsteps, the clink of metal, the comforting chaos of a pack beginning its day.
Today, everything felt restrained. Controlled.
She folded her blanket neatly and smoothed her hand over the mattress, a habit she'd picked up from years of never wanting to leave a trace. Only when she was sure everything was in place did she step into the corridor.
A guard nodded to her.
Another smiled—quickly, almost nervously.
Lyra returned the gestures, her lips curving politely, but unease curled in her stomach.
They were watching her.
Not staring. Not openly. Just… aware.
She made her way toward the kitchens, planning to help where she could. Cooking calmed her. The repetition, the warmth, the certainty that she was useful.
Inside, Mira was already there, slicing fruit with precise movements.
"Good morning," Lyra said softly.
Mira looked up, relief flickering across her face. "There you are. I was about to send someone looking for you."
Lyra tilted her head. "Why?"
Mira hesitated, then shook her head. "No reason. Just—people were asking."
That knot tightened.
"Who?" Lyra asked gently.
"Elders," Mira replied. "And the Beta. And… a few others."
Lyra absorbed that quietly, nodding as she took a knife and began helping. She didn't ask more. She never did.
But inside, something shifted.
Kael spent the morning listening.
That was his strength—not dominance, not brute force, but patience. He let the pack speak around him, watched patterns form and fracture.
"Tomas volunteered for extra patrol again," the Beta said casually.
Kael's pen paused mid-stroke.
"Again?" he echoed mildly.
The Beta shrugged. "Third time this week."
Kael nodded once. "Who approved it?"
"I did," the Beta admitted. "Didn't seem suspicious."
Kael didn't respond right away.
Tomas. Always near. Always eager. Always positioned just close enough to observe without drawing notice.
"Move him," Kael said finally. "Inside duty. No explanation."
The Beta frowned. "That might raise questions."
"Let it," Kael replied.
Questions were better than certainty.
Lyra carried a basket of herbs toward the healer's quarters when Kael found her.
He didn't summon her. Didn't order her presence.
He walked beside her instead.
"How are you feeling today?" he asked, tone casual.
Lyra thought about lying. She always did. But she'd learned something since arriving here.
Kael didn't ask questions lightly.
"I feel like I'm standing in a room where everyone stopped talking," she said carefully. "And I don't know why."
Kael exhaled through his nose. "You're not wrong."
She glanced up at him, eyes wide. "Did I do something?"
The question hit harder than any accusation could have.
Kael stopped walking.
Lyra halted with him, clutching the basket.
"No," he said firmly. "You did nothing wrong."
Her shoulders eased slightly, but confusion lingered. "Then why does it feel like I did?"
Kael studied her face—open, earnest, untouched by the political undercurrents swirling around her existence.
Because you don't know how powerful you are, he thought.
Instead, he said, "The pack is adjusting."
"To me?" she asked.
"To change," he corrected gently.
Lyra nodded, accepting that answer even though it didn't fully satisfy her.
She always trusted too easily.
Kael hated that the world would punish her for it.
That night, Lyra sat near the window in her room, moonlight spilling across the floor. She hugged her knees to her chest, listening to the distant sounds of the pack settling.
She felt watched again.
Not closely. Not threateningly.
Just… aware.
Her fingers brushed the silver mark at her collarbone—the one she'd always hidden, never understood.
For a moment, warmth flickered beneath her skin, responding to the moon.
Lyra pulled her hand back quickly, heart racing.
"I don't know what you want," she whispered to the quiet room.
The warmth didn't fade.
It waited.
Elsewhere, far beyond Nightfang's borders, a scout knelt before the Ashen Vale Alpha.
"She's awakening," he reported. "Slowly. But she doesn't know it."
The Alpha smiled, sharp and satisfied.
"Good," he said. "That makes her easier to take."
The quiet had spoken.
And it was only getting louder.