The full moon hung in the sky, casting a silver glow over the sacred stone circle deep within the Moon Veil forest. The air pulsed with anticipation—bodies tense, breath held, hearts thudding like distant drums. Tonight, the Moon Veil Pack gathered to witness the birth of new wolves. And tonight, it was Lyra's turn to shift.
She stood at the center of the circle, the grass soft and damp beneath her bare feet. Her white ceremonial dress clung to her slender frame, the silk shimmering faintly under moonlight. Her dark curls had been pinned with tiny moonflowers.
Her mother's gentle hands weaving them in just hours earlier. She looked every part the daughter of an Alpha: proud, poised, prepared.
But inside, she was a trembling mess of nerves and hope.
She'd waited her whole life for this moment.
Her brother Rynn gave her a reassuring smile from the crowd, his arm draped around his mate. Her mother, Liora, stood beside her father, Alpha Caelen, both of them beaming with pride.
*"Just breathe, little moon," her mother had whispered before the ceremony. "She will come to you when the time is right."
Lyra pressed a hand over her heart. It was racing.
The elders began to chant in the Old Tongue, a song of calling, one passed down from the time before language. All around her, the others stood in silence, heads bowed, breath catching as the energy of the moon soaked into the soil, into their bones.
The first shift began.
With a shiver and a cry, the girl beside Lyra dropped to her knees, her skin shimmering, bones cracking and reforming as her body rippled with power. She transformed her fur golden, her howl piercing the night.
Another boy followed. Then another. And another.
All around her, teens became wolves, their new forms radiant and strong. Some howled in joy. Some wept with the ecstasy of it. The pack roared with approval.
Lyra closed her eyes and tilted her head toward the moon.
*"Please," she whispered. "I'm ready."
She waited for the fire to build in her chest, for her bones to begin their sacred breaking, for her wolf to rise within her like a tide. She waited for the voice the one that every pack member described as the whisper of a twin soul.
But there was nothing.
Her heart beat.
She waited.
Her hands trembled.
Still, nothing.
Confused, she tried again. She summoned every ounce of focus, every prayer she had ever offered to the Moon Goddess. She begged. Pleaded. Willed her body to obey.
But the magic didn't come.
Around her, the new wolves danced and ran. Parents embraced their children. Elders wept in joy.
And Lyra stood in the center of the stone circle, still human.
Still unchanged.
Still… wolfless.
Murmurs began to ripple through the crowd.
"She's not shifting."
"Why isn't she—?"
"Did something go wrong?"
"She's the Alpha's daughter…"
Lyra felt every word like a blade to the skin.
She forced a smile, small and tight. Her cheeks burned with shame. She tried to stand tall, but her knees wobbled. Her spine felt too fragile, too hollow. She looked toward her father.
Alpha Caelen's face remained unreadable, but his jaw was clenched. Her mother stepped forward quickly and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, whispering softly in her ear, "It's okay, my love. It doesn't mean anything. We'll figure this out."
But it did mean something.
The entire pack knew it.
Lyra had not shifted. She had no wolf.
She had failed.
And even worse—she had failed under the eyes of every single pack member on the most sacred night of her life.
She didn't cry. She didn't let her hands shake, even though every inch of her skin begged to fall apart.
Instead, she stood straighter.
Smiled wider.
And said in a voice louder than she felt, "I guess the moon is just taking her time with me."
It was a joke. Weak and Brittle.
But a few people laughed nervously, and that was enough for her to nod, offer a bow to the elders, and turn to leave the circle.
She didn't wait for the ceremony to end.
She didn't look back at the celebrating wolves.
She didn't meet her brother's eyes or acknowledge the sympathetic looks from those who pitied her.
She simply walked.
Walked until she was out of the circle, out of the clearing, into the forest where no one could see the way her eyes filled with tears or the way her hands curled into fists against the ache in her chest.
The cold wind stung her cheeks.
She walked faster.
And when she was sure no one could hear her, she ran.