​Chapter 2: Whispers of the Duskborne

LIRA

The Leaders sat in a semi-circle, cloaked in silence, their faces carved from years of experience and sharpened by battles fought long before I was born. The room felt heavier than usual, the flickering torches casting shadows that danced like spirits on the stone walls. I had stood before them before—felt their scrutiny, their judgment—but tonight was different. Tonight, the air crackled with something I couldn’t name.

I stood in the center of the chamber, the scent of smoke and old stone clinging to my clothes. My heart pounded beneath my ribs like a war drum, but I kept my chin high. Showing fear would only feed the tension hanging over the room like a thick storm cloud.

Beta Orion sat at the far end of the circle, Alpha Tobias’s second-in-command and the acting authority while my father handled trouble at the border. Orion was formidable—tall, broad-shouldered, and a voice that could silence a room with a single word. His dark hair was streaked with silver, but he wore his age like armor, his gaze sharp and unwavering.

“Lira Fenwick,” Orion said, voice deep and calm, like the stillness before an earthquake. “Do you know why you’ve been called before us?”

I hesitated. I never knew how to answer that question. Whenever the Leaders summoned me, it was usually because something strange had happened—something they thought I had a hand in, or worse, something I was. I didn’t have answers. Not the kind they were always fishing for.

“The moon looks... weird tonight?” I offered, forcing a small shrug. Humor was my armor when the silence became too much, when I felt like I was being crushed beneath the weight of expectations I didn’t ask for.

Kora, standing beside me, tensed immediately. Her fingers curled into her sleeves, and I caught the flicker of warning in her narrowed eyes. Her body practically vibrated with tension.

“Lira,” she hissed under her breath. “Not now.”

I knew she was right. I just couldn’t help myself. The pressure—the eyes, the silence, the feeling like I was a glass about to shatter—was unbearable. Humor, even poorly timed, was the only thing that kept me from cracking.

But Orion didn’t react to my poor attempt at levity. His expression remained unreadable, the flicker of the torchlight reflecting in his eyes like distant storms.

“We’ve received troubling reports,” said a woman seated near the center—Lyanna, one of the senior warriors and Tobias’s longtime advisor. Her voice was calm, but each word landed like a hammer on stone. “Grimhowl warriors have been sighted near our territory’s edge.”

My breath caught.

The Grimhowl Clan.

My heart stuttered in my chest as dread coiled in my stomach like a serpent awakening. I had heard stories—everyone had. Whispers of bloodshed, of wolves that didn’t fight with honor, of dark rituals and alliances with forces no one dared name. The Grimhowls were nightmares made flesh.

“Why would they be near our borders?” I asked, the shakiness in my voice betraying the fear I tried so hard to hide. “What do they want?”

Orion leaned forward slightly, his voice steady but heavy. “That is what we’re trying to determine.”

Lyanna’s eyes narrowed, and her next words made my stomach twist like it had been wrung out.

“We believe it has something to do with you.”

I stared at her, confusion and fear colliding in my chest. “Me?” I echoed, heart thudding. “Why would they be interested in me?”

Kora’s hand found my wrist. Her grip was firm—not comforting, but grounding. Warning. She didn’t say a word, but her wide eyes spoke volumes. She knew something. Maybe she always had. That realization hit me harder than Lyanna’s words.

“You,” Orion said, gaze locked on mine like a blade pressed to my throat, “are now the reason Caius Vexmoor moves.”

It felt like the room tilted. The stone beneath my feet turned to ice. A roaring began in my ears, like a tide surging in too fast to escape. Caius Vexmoor—the heir of Grimhowl. The dark prince with a reputation soaked in blood and shadow. I had never seen him, never spoken his name aloud. And now... now he was moving because of me?

“That doesn’t make sense,” I whispered. “I’ve never even seen him. I’m not even... I haven’t even—” I couldn’t bring myself to say shifted. The word lodged in my throat like a thorn.

“You were born during the eclipse,” Lyanna said quietly.

I blinked, stunned. “What?”

“The eclipse,” Orion confirmed. “A rare one. It happened the night you were born, and it’s not a coincidence. Your birth aligned with a time when the veil between this world and the ancient forces was at its thinnest. That night... marked you.”

“No one ever told me that,” I muttered. “Not even my father.”

“It was kept quiet,” Orion said. “To protect you.”

My throat tightened. “From what?”

“From those who would see you as a weapon. Or a key.”

“I’m not anyone’s key,” I snapped, anger flaring suddenly, sharp and hot. “I’m not a prophecy. I’m just—”

But I stopped myself. Because I wasn’t just anything. And deep down, I knew it. I had always known it. The dreams. The pulses of energy that danced along my skin when the moon was high. The way I could sense people’s emotions before they even spoke.

Orion’s eyes softened—barely. “We don’t know what Caius wants from you. But he’s moving with purpose. And that purpose leads to you.”

I felt cold all over. “But I’m not even strong. I don’t even know how to—”

“It’s not about what you are now,” Lyanna said gently. “It’s about what you’ll become.”

The words landed hard, echoing through the cavern of my chest.

I didn’t want to become anything. I didn’t want to be special or chosen or marked by the stars. I just wanted to live. To be free. To make my own choices.

But the look in their eyes told me that wasn’t an option anymore.

“This is only the beginning, Lira,” Orion said, rising slowly to his feet, his shadow stretching across the chamber wall like a silent omen. “And whether you like it or not... something ancient has begun to stir. The tides are shifting. You need to be ready.”

Ready.

What a strange word. It felt foreign in my mouth, as if it belonged to someone else. Someone braver. Someone stronger.

I stared into the firelight, watching the flames twist and curl, as if they knew secrets I was only beginning to understand. Kora hadn’t let go of my wrist, and for once, I didn’t pull away.

I didn’t have a plan. I didn’t have powers. I didn’t even have the truth.

But I had instinct. And instinct told me that everything I thought I knew about myself was about to unravel.

Something was coming.

And I was at the heart of it.