Chapter 12

The Moon-Born Queen

The greenhouse incident spread through Blackfang by morning.

Not officially, of course.

No one walked through the fortress announcing:

The Alpha nearly murdered a noble over his wife touching flowers.

But servants whispered.

Guards exchanged looks.

And by breakfast, several court members had suddenly become very careful about standing too close to Lyra in public.

Which only made everything worse.

“You’re famous now,” Mirelle informed her dryly while brushing out Lyra’s hair before dinner.

“I preferred being ignored.”

“That stopped being an option around the time wolves started bowing to you.”

Fair point.

The eastern wing had become unbearable after the greenhouse confrontation.

Not because anyone openly mistreated her.

Because people watched now.

Every interaction felt weighted with curiosity.

Questions hovered behind every polite smile.

What are you to him?

What are you becoming?

By late evening, Lyra escaped again.

This time toward the archive halls near the older sections of the fortress library.

She told herself she only wanted quiet.

That was partially true.

The other part was harder to admit aloud:

she wanted answers.

The underground mural still lingered in the back of her mind like unfinished music.

The silver-eyed queen.

The glowing symbols.

Kael’s expression when he saw the markings react.

None of it felt accidental anymore.

And Lyra had spent too many years being called cursed not to recognize when people were hiding information around her deliberately.

The upper archives sat mostly abandoned at night.

Tall shelves stretched upward into darkness while moonlight filtered softly through narrow windows layered with frost. The air smelled like old parchment, dust, and cedarwood worn smooth by time.

Somewhere deeper in the archive wing, a clock ticked quietly enough to make the silence feel heavier instead of lighter.

Lyra wandered slowly between shelves lined with northern histories and war records she could barely pronounce.

Most books focused on Alpha bloodlines, territorial disputes, or ancient treaties between wolf clans.

Nothing useful.

At least not initially.

Then she noticed one shelf tucked partially behind an old stone support column.

Unlike the others, this section had no formal markings.

No organizational labels.

Just older books bound in dark leather worn pale at the edges.

Almost hidden.

Curiosity won again.

Predictably.

Lyra crouched slightly to pull free one particularly damaged volume from the lower shelf.

Dust drifted immediately into the air.

The title had nearly faded away entirely, though she could still make out fragments:

…Before the First Alpha Kings

That seemed promising.

Or deeply terrible.

Possibly both.

She settled near the long reading table beneath the window and carefully opened the book.

Most of the early pages had deteriorated badly enough to make reading difficult.

Still, certain phrases stood out immediately.

Before the wolf clans claimed dominion…

Before fang-rule and blood succession…

The old sovereigns walked beneath the moon untouched by mortal hierarchy.

Lyra frowned slightly.

The writing style felt older than ordinary northern myth records.

Less ceremonial.

More fearful.

She turned another page.

And froze.

A drawing filled nearly the entire parchment.

A woman crowned in silver standing beside enormous wolves beneath a black moon.

Long pale hair.

Silver markings winding across her arms.

Eyes glowing like winter stars.

Lyra’s stomach tightened painfully.

Not because the woman resembled her.

Because she was beginning to expect it now.

The text beneath the illustration had faded badly, but one phrase remained readable:

The Moon-Born Queen

A strange pulse moved suddenly beneath Lyra’s wrist.

Warm.

Sharp enough to make her inhale softly.

She lowered her gaze.

The silver markings beneath her skin had appeared again.

Brighter this time.

Thin glowing lines winding softly upward from her wrist like moonlight trapped beneath glass.

Lyra stared at them in silence.

Then quickly turned another page.

The next section looked more like fragmented prophecy than history.

When the old blood wakes beneath the northern crown…

The wolves shall kneel before the forgotten throne.

The Moon-Born Queen shall either unite the wild kingdoms…

…or devour them whole.

The room suddenly felt colder.

Not physically.

Instinctively.

Lyra reread the lines twice.

Three times.

The words refused to settle into anything rational.

Forgotten throne.

Wolves kneeling.

Moon-Born Queen.

It sounded impossible.

Mythological.

The kind of story people invented to frighten children around winter fires.

And yet—

the wolves had bowed.

The markings kept glowing.

And Kael looked at her like he was slowly realizing something he desperately wished weren’t true.

A floorboard creaked softly somewhere behind her.

Lyra nearly dropped the book.

“You really need to stop wandering into forbidden sections of my fortress.”

Kael’s voice carried through the dim archive hall low and tired with what sounded dangerously close to resignation now.

Not surprise.

Definitely not surprise.

At this point, he probably expected trouble whenever she disappeared too long.

Lyra looked up slowly.

Kael stood near the end of the archive aisle wearing a dark training coat loosely thrown over black clothes, one hand resting against the shelf beside him while his attention fixed immediately on the glowing marks beneath her wrist.

He noticed them instantly now.

Every time.

Neither of them spoke for a moment.

The silence between them had changed recently.

Less hostile.

More aware.

Like both of them had started hearing something beneath ordinary conversation neither fully understood yet.

Kael crossed toward the table slowly.

His eyes dropped briefly toward the open book.

And the moment he read the visible title fragment—

his entire expression hardened.

“Where did you find this?”

The question came too quickly.

Too sharply.

Lyra glanced toward the hidden shelf behind the pillar.

“It was buried in the archives.”

“It was buried intentionally.”

That answered several questions immediately.

Kael reached toward the book like he intended to close it.

Then stopped halfway.

His attention had shifted entirely toward her wrist now.

The silver markings glowed brighter beneath the moonlight spilling through the frozen windows.

Not aggressively.

Almost rhythmically.

Kael stared at them for several long seconds.

And for the first time since meeting him—

Lyra saw something dangerously close to fear cross his face.

Not fear of her.

Fear of what she might become.

Very carefully, Kael lowered himself into the chair across from her.

The movement felt strangely intimate in the quiet archive hall.

Like a man choosing not to stand above someone anymore.

Outside, snow drifted softly against the dark windows while the fortress slept around them.

And beneath the table—

the silver marks along Lyra’s skin continued glowing brighter with every passing heartbeat.