She looked to Thornak, then to the Alpha Lycans at the table.
"That sorcerer and his master will find her."
Thornak leaned forward, the weight of responsibility carved into every line of his face. "If this heir is to carry the weight of the Moonguard... if she's to stand against what's coming..." He looked directly at Ninzu. "Surely she'll need training. Guidance... Time."
Ninzu did not blink. Her voice was quiet, yet it rang with the resonance of prophecy.
"If she awakens completely," she said, "she will not need training. She is not a warrior to be molded," she continued, "but a force remembered. Her soul has walked this earth before. Her flame was forged when the world was young. What lies dormant in her is not something you can teach... it is something you can only unleash."
A flicker of awe and fear, passed through the gathered Lycans.
"And when she rises," Ninzu finished, "the Goddess rises with her."
For a long breath, no one spoke.
Then Queen Maravelle rose smoothly, every inch the regal matriarch, but the tightness in her jaw betrayed the storm behind her eyes.
"A stirring tale," she said, voice wrapped in velvet, "but tales are not strategy. If this… heir is real, and if she awakens without our guidance, then what guarantee have we that she will choose us? That she will not burn us first?"
Her gaze swept the room, controlled, yet pointed.
"Is it not dangerous to let power like that go unshaped?" she added, eyes flicking toward Ninzu.
Lord Edrion leaned forward, his voice measured but laced with unease. "If the shield guarding her has fractured, Seer… how long before the storm breaks? And when it does, will she be our salvation, or the fire we cannot hold?"
A heavy silence followed, like the moment before a lightning strike.
Ninzu's voice rang out, calm but firm.
"She is not a weapon. And she does not belong to any of you."
She looked around the room, her gaze sharp.
"When she awakens, it will be by the will of the Goddess, not the desires of this council. You won't control her. You'll have to earn her trust."
Then, after a pause:
"This is not about preparing her to serve us. It's about proving we are worthy to stand beside her."
....
Lara sat with Iris near the edge of the palace gardens, the hush of evening settling over the flowers. A soft breeze stirred the lavender. Iris was saying something gentle about the stars, but suddenly her voice began to blur at the edges.
Lara's breath hitched. A hum, low and pulsing, rang through her chest.
The world around her faded.
The garden vanished.
She stood now in a place she had no knowledge of, bathed in silver light, the ground beneath her a mirror of stars. The sky was endless and dark, yet radiant with falling starlight. A great stone circle loomed in the distance, etched with runes that glowed faintly.
And in the center stood a figure in white. Robes shimmered like woven moonlight. Hair like silver fire. She glowed from within, a serene smile resting on her lips. Her eyes gleamed like twin moons, bright and kind. Behind her, a great circle of stone rose from the starlit mist, etched with glowing sigils. At its heart burned a symbol, a crescent moon encircling a single flame.
The voice came like a song across still waters:
"Daughter of flame and shadow," the voice came, echoing from everywhere and nowhere. "The hour draws near. The fire stirs in you."
Suddenly in a flash, the runes ignited.
And then she gasped, blinking, shivering, then she woke with a gasp.
Thornak was already on his feet, his hand at her cheek. "Lara?"
She blinked, breath shaky, heart galloping in her chest. The ceiling above blurred, and then came into focus. She turned her head slightly and saw the healer, the one who had treated her earlier, dabbing her forehead with a cloth steeped in pale green herbs. The scent of lavender and ashroot filled the air.
"You've been unconscious for two days Lara."
"W-what…?" she whispered, her throat dry as dust.
She tried to sit up, but her limbs felt heavy. "Water…" she croaked.
At once, Thornak sitting beside her, gently slipped a hand behind her head and helped her sip from a silver cup. The coolness slid down her throat like rain on parched earth.
"Easy," he murmured.
....
The chamber was carved from ancient stone, its air thick with soot and silence. A dying fire sputtered in the hearth, casting jagged shadows across the floor where runes throbbed dimly, red and serpentine, like veins feeding something long asleep.
The sorcerer stood at its heart, cloaked in midnight threads, a crown of bone resting upon his brow. His hands, long and blackened by the mark of forbidden rites, stirred the air as if it were silk.
Suddenly, his spine arched. The runes flared. A breath hissed between his teeth.
"The veil has lifted…" he rasped, eyes alight with eldritch flame. "The heir walks… in Vargorath."
He turned toward the shadows behind him, where no form moved yet something watched. An ancient presence loomed there.
"She stirs, master," the sorcerer said, kneeling before the shadow. "The Moonfire's light flickers again. I felt it. She is awakening."
A whisper, soft as silk over steel, slid through the air, so old it seemed to echo from the stones themselves.
"Then the time begins again. You know your task."
The sorcerer bowed his head.
The shadow said nothing more, but the air thickened, heavy with power and prophecy. The runes on the floor blazed once more, and the sorcerer vanished into the gloom, his cloak trailing smoke.
And far away, beneath the sacred skies of Vargorath, Lara stirred in her sleep, unaware that the hunt had begun.
....
They had been training for over an hour, the sun dipping low behind Vargorath's stone towers. Lara's breath came fast, her arms aching as she circled Thornak, sweat slick on her brow.
"Again," he said, tossing her a wooden blade. "Faster this time."
She grit her teeth and charged.
They clashed, wood on wood, her footwork sharper than before, her reactions quicker. But Thornak's size and strength still overpowered her. He spun, disarmed her, and caught her wrist before she hit the ground.
And that's when it happened.
A flash of heat seared her shoulder. She gasped, falling to her knees, her hand clutching at her collarbone.
"Lara?" Thornak knelt beside her.
"I'm fine, it's just..." She pulled at the fabric of her tunic, revealing the skin just below her collarbone.
There, pulsing with soft, silvery light, was a crescent-shaped mark. Faint but radiant, like moonlight etched into her flesh.
Thornak's breath caught. "What is that, was it there before?"
"I… I don't know what it is."
He didn't speak. His gaze locked on the mark, and something flickered behind his eyes, she couldn't be the heir, could she?.
The mark faded slowly, like a dream melting at sunrise. But the warmth remained under her skin.
And deep in the forest beyond the palace, a creature cloaked in shadow lifted its head, its master's spell trembling. The heir's blood had stirred.
After training, in the king's chamber:
The steam curled like ghosts in the King's bathing chamber, scented with crushed herbs and warm stone. Lara stood beneath the cascading water, her breath catching as the heat soaked into her sore muscles. She tilted her face upward, eyes closed, water running in rivulets down her back.
Behind her, the door opened with a soft creak.
Thornak stepped inside, bare-chested, the lamplight casting gold over the scar that crossed his ribs. He said nothing at first, just watched her from the threshold, the weight of unspoken thoughts thick in his silence.
He had been sitting on the edge of the bed, the memory of the crescent mark still burning behind his eyes. Is she the Moonguard heir? He needed to talk to Ninzu and quickly.
Without a word, he entered the bath and came up behind her.
Lara startled slightly as his arms slid around her waist, pulling her gently back against his naked body. She was absolute perfection. His warmth seeped into her even through the rising heat of the water. She tensed.
"You didn't say you were coming in," she murmured, shy, her voice small.
"I didn't think I needed to." His voice was low, rough at the edges. He bent his head and kissed the curve of her neck, just beneath her ear.
Her breath hitched.
His eyes, feral gold and glowing now devoured her. There was no hunger in the world like a Lycan's when he'd found his mate. He dropped to his knees, reverent and wordless, like a warrior before a goddess.
His hands gripped her thighs with gentle strength, spreading them as he lifted one leg onto his shoulder, anchoring her to him. Lara gasped, fingers curling against him. His mouth descended, slow, deliberate seeking her with heat and hunger.
The first touch of his tongue made her cry out. He tasted her like a starving man, slow at first, then deeper, with every stroke coaxing her higher. Her fingers tangled in his wet hair, her hips trembling as pleasure built and crested, unstoppable.
"Thornak..." she moaned, but he only growled low against her, the vibration sending her reeling.
She shattered against him, waves of release pouring through her like light through stained glass. And still, he held her steady as though her pleasure was the only vow he'd ever sworn.
When she sagged, breathless, he rose slowly, kissing the inside of her thigh as he lowered her leg, eyes never leaving hers.