The screaming stopped at dawn. Lyra pressed her face against the window. The pale figures had disappeared, but she could still smell death in the air—cold and thick like winter fog. A sharp knock made her jump. "Your trial begins at sunset," Jonas called through the door. "Alpha wants you fed and ready." Sunset. That gave her maybe ten hours before facing Brutus. Ten hours before the blood moon rose and the river took its debts. But first, she wanted answers. Lyra waited until the castle grew quiet. Most of the pack was preparing for tonight's trial, making bets on how quickly Brutus would snap her neck. Perfect.
No one would notice her getting out. She slipped through the servant's passageways and out the back gate. The banned river lay three miles north, hidden deep in Blackwood Forest where even the bravest wolves feared to hunt. The trees grew darker as she walked. Twisted branches blocked out the sun, creating a world of shades and whispers. Her wolf senses screamed danger with every step. Turn back. Run. Hide. But Elara's desperate face pushed her forward. The smell hit her first—rot and rust and something else. Something wrong. The smell of souls trapped underwater, slowly dissolving into nothing. Then she heard it. Voices. Hundreds of them, all singing the same sad song she'd heard last night. But now she could understand the words: Come home, come home, the water calls. Come home, come home, before night falls. The river remembers, the river knows. What was taken, what was due. Lyra's skin crawled. Those weren't just random ghosts. They were pack members. Wolves who'd died near the river over the ages, their voices woven together in an endless lament. She pushed through the final row of trees and stopped dead. The river stretched before her like a hole in the earth. The water was black as midnight, so dark it seemed to swallow light itself. No fish swam in its depths. No birds sang from its banks. Even the grass near the water's edge was gray and lifeless. But the most scary thing was how alive it felt. The water moved against the stream, forming patterns and shapes. Sometimes it looked like reaching hands. Sometimes like screaming faces. And sometimes, just for a pulse, it looked like Elara's small form floating just beneath the surface. "You came."
Lyra spun around. Elder Voss stepped out from behind a large oak tree, his ancient face grim. "You followed me?" "I've been waiting here since midnight." His pale eyes studied the black water. "I knew you'd come. The river calls strongest to those it wants most." "It wants me?" "Child, this river has been hunting your family for three generations. Your grandma heard its whispers. Your mother felt its pull. And now it's set its hooks in you." A chill ran down Lyra's spine. "What happened to them?" "Your grandmother drowned herself rather than let it take her family. Your mother died in childbirth—some say the river's curse weakened her spirit. And now you're here, exactly where it wants you." The water suddenly bubbled and hissed. A shape rose from the depths—tall, wet, wrong. It wore Mira's face but moved like something pretending to be human. "Sister," it called in Elara's voice. "I've been waiting so long." Voss grabbed Lyra's arm. "Don't listen. That's not your sister. It's the river wearing her stolen skin." But Lyra was already walking toward the water's edge. The thing calling to her looked exactly like Elara should have looked at seventeen—tall and graceful, with their mother's dark hair and their father's stubborn chin. "I missed you," Elara whispered, offering a dripping hand. "Come swimming with me. Like we used to." "We never went swimming together," Lyra said softly. "You were too scared of deep water." The thing wearing Elara's face tilted its head. "Clever girl. But I'm still your sister. Still the little girl you couldn't save." "Prove it." "Remember the night before I died? You told me a story about a girl who could turn into a wolf. I said I wanted to be a princess too, and you promised to teach me how to howl when I got bigger." Lyra's heart squeezed. Only Elara would remember that. "But you're not really her, are you? You're the river." The creature's smile turned sharp. "I'm both. I'm neither. I'm what happens when a soul gets trapped between worlds for ten years." Its silver eyes blazed with rage. "Do you know what it's like? Watching you live while I rotted underwater? Seeing you find friends, find a mate, find happiness while I screamed in the dark?" The water around its feet began to boil. The singing voices grew louder, more desperate. "I didn't mean for you to die," Lyra whispered. "But you did want it, didn't you? Deep down? The beautiful little sister everyone loved more than the wild daughter.
When you saw me drowning, part of you was glad." "No!" "Yes. I felt it through our sister tie. Relief. Freedom. No more competition for father's love." Tears streamed down Lyra's face because the words hit too close to truth. For just one horrible moment, when she'd seen Elara sinking, she had felt relief. Not because she wanted her sister dead, but because she was tired of being compared to someone so much better. "That's why the river chose you," Elara continued. "Guilt is its best food. And you're full of it." The black water crept higher, reaching for Lyra's boots. "Step back!" Voss shouted. "It's trying to drag you in!" But Lyra couldn't move. The guilt was squeezing her, making her legs feel like stone. "I can take it all away," Elara offered. "The guilt, the pain, the loneliness. Just step into the water. Join me. Be with me forever." "And what happens to everyone else?" Elara's laugh was like breaking glass. "What do you care? They hate you. Mock you. Throw food at you. Even your precious mate watches you suffer and does nothing." "That's not—" "True? He stood in that doorway and watched five girls strike you. He could have stopped it with one word. But he chose not to. Because deep down, he agrees with them. You're nothing but a dirty rogue who doesn't deserve his pack." The words hit harder than any physical blow. "Come with me," Elara whispered, her form starting to disappear. "It's the only way to stop the pain." The black water touched Lyra's feet. It felt warm and pleasant, like a bath after a long day.
It would be so easy to just sink down and let it all end. Then she heard new footsteps behind her. "Lyra." Kael's voice cut through the river's song like a blade. She turned and saw him standing at the tree line, his gray eyes wide with something that might have been fear. "Don't," he said quietly. "Please." "Why not?" Bitterness filled her voice. "You don't want me. Your pack doesn't want me. Even my own father threw me away." Kael stepped closer, his hands raised like he was approaching a spooked animal. "That's not true." "You watched them hit me. You did nothing." "I know." His voice cracked. "I'm sorry. I was wrong." "Too late for sorry." The water was up to her ankles now, seeping through her boots. It whispered promises of peace, of stopping the endless ache in her chest. "It's not too late," Kael said desperately. "I came here to find you. To tell you the truth." "What truth?" "That I've been lying to myself. About not wanting a mate. About not caring." He took another step closer. "The reason I watched you fight was because I knew you could win. I've never seen anyone fight like that—five against one and you barely broke a sweat. You're amazing." Lyra blinked, confused. "What?" "And the reason I don't touch you isn't because I don't want to." His eyes blazed with sudden fire. "It's because I want to too much. One touch and I'd never let you go. I'd claim you so fully that neither of us would remember where I end and you begin." The water around her feet started bubbling furiously. Elara's form flickered, her perfect mask slipping to show something monstrous underneath. "Don't listen to him," she hissed. "He's lying. Trying to save his precious relationship." But Kael wasn't looking at the water creature. His eyes stayed locked on Lyra's face. "I'm done lying," he said quietly. "To you. To myself. I want you, Lyra Blackthorn.
Not for politics or friendships. I want your fierce heart and your stubborn courage and the way you make me feel alive for the first time in years." The mate bond flared to life in Lyra's chest, burning away the river's cold words. She could feel Kael's feelings now—fear, hope, desperate love. Love. He loved her. The black water recoiled as if stung, dropping away from her legs. "No!" Elara shrieked, her stolen face melting like wax. "She's mine! The river owns her!" "The river owns nothing," Voss said firmly, stepping between them and the water. "It can only take what's freely given." Lyra looked at her sister—or the thing trying to be her sister. "I'm sorry you died. I'm sorry I couldn't save you. But I won't join you in death." "Then you'll pay the price," the creature growled, its form shifting into something with too many teeth and eyes like black holes. "Tonight, when the red moon rises, I'll come for everyone you love. Starting with him." It pointed a bent finger at Kael. "The river remembers its bills.
And yours just got bigger." The thing dissolved back into the black water with a sound like screaming wind. The river itself began to retreat, pulling back from the banks with reluctant hate. But its words echoed in the air: "Tonight. When the moon bleeds. Come to me freely, or watch them all drown." Lyra stumbled backward, her legs shaking. Kael caught her before she could fall, his arms strong and warm around her. "It's not over," she whispered against his chest. "I know." His hand smoothed her hair. "But you're not facing it alone anymore." Elder Voss watched the river with worried eyes. "The red moon rises in six hours. If we're going to stop this, we need to move fast." "Stop it how?" Lyra pulled back to look at him. The old man's smile was grim as winter. "By giving the river what it really wants. Not your mind, child. Your blood." And before either of them could ask what he meant, a horn sounded in the distance. The trial horn, calling all pack members to watch the fight between Lyra and Brutus. "Perfect timing," Voss muttered. "Nothing like a death match before the apocalypse."