Chapter 17 Chapter 17

Chapter 17 Chapter 17
Lyra
Morning in the mountains feels too big for me.
The light pours through the tall windows of the villa like a living thing, pale and merciless, illuminating every flaw, every weakness I’m trying to hide. I sit at the edge of the bed, wrapped in Riven’s robe, my bare feet tucked beneath me like I’m trying to disappear into the fabric.
I still can’t feel her.
The absence inside me is louder than any sound. My wolf used to hum beneath my skin, a constant presence, a reassurance that no matter what happened, I was never truly alone.
Now there is only me.
Human.
Breakable.
Riven watches me from across the room, leaning against a stone pillar, arms crossed over his chest. He hasn’t looked away once. Not when I woke. Not when I struggled to stand. Not now.
“Stop trying to reach for her,” he says quietly.
I flinch. “I didn’t—”
“You did,” he replies. “Your breathing changes every time you try.”
I exhale shakily and force myself to still. “It’s instinct.”
“I know.”
He pushes away from the pillar and approaches, his movements unhurried, deliberate. Predator at rest. When he stops in front of me, he crouches so we’re eye level.
“Listen to me, Lyra,” he says. “If you want to survive until the blood moon, you need rules.”
My throat tightens. “Rules for being human?”
“Rules for staying alive,” he corrects.
He lifts one finger.
“Rule one,” he says. “You do not challenge any wolf. Not with words. Not with posture. Not with your eyes.”
“That’s harder than it sounds,” I murmur.
His mouth twitches faintly. “I know. You were raised to stand your ground.”
He lifts a second finger.
“Rule two. You never walk alone. Not outside this villa. Not inside it if I’m not nearby.”
My chest tightens at that. “So I’m a prisoner.”
“No,” he says firmly. “You’re protected.”
There’s a difference. I just don’t know if I believe it yet.
“Rule three,” he continues. “You eat. You sleep. You rest. Humans burn energy differently. You won’t feel it until it’s too late.”
“I don’t like being monitored.”
“You don’t like bleeding either,” he replies calmly.
I swallow.
“And the last rule?” I ask softly.
His gaze darkens.
“You trust me,” he says. “Even when it scares you.”
Silence settles between us.
“That one might be the hardest,” I admit.
“I know,” he says again, softer this time.
He stands and offers me his hand.
I hesitate.
Everything in me screams that this is dangerous. That accepting help from him changes things in ways I can’t undo. But I am tired. Weak. And when I place my hand in his, warmth floods me unexpectedly.
Not power.
Comfort.
He guides me through the villa slowly, explaining where I can go, where I shouldn’t. The pack keeps their distance, eyes following me with open curiosity and thinly veiled hunger. I feel it keenly now—the way their gazes weigh on my skin, how every sound makes my heart race.
I stick close to Riven.
Too close.
At one point, my knees buckle without warning. The world tilts, edges blurring, and I barely register the sound I make before Riven catches me.
His arms wrap around me instantly, solid and steady.
“Easy,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you.”
I cling to him before I can stop myself.
It’s humiliating.
And relieving.
“You’re shaking,” he says.
“I didn’t realize how much I relied on her,” I whisper. “My wolf. She carried me through everything.”
He tightens his hold just slightly. “And now you’ll learn how strong you are without her.”
I look up at him. “Do you really believe that?”
“Yes,” he says without hesitation. “Because I see you.”
The words hit harder than I expect.
We end up on the terrace overlooking the mountains. The air is cold, biting, and I hug myself instinctively. Riven steps behind me, draping his coat over my shoulders.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
“For the coat?”
“For not letting me fall,” I say.
He doesn’t answer immediately.
“You didn’t fall,” he says finally. “You survived.”
The wind shifts.
The air thickens.
I feel it before I understand it—a pressure, heavy and ancient, pressing down on my chest. My breath catches. My skin prickles.
Riven stiffens.
“Do you feel that?” I whisper.
“Yes,” he says quietly. “Don’t move.”
The clouds above the mountains begin to churn, moonlight bleeding through despite the sun still lingering on the horizon. Silver light spills across the terrace, pooling at my feet.
My knees weaken again, but this time it’s not exhaustion.
It’s recognition.
Her presence wraps around me like gravity.
The Moon Goddess.
My vision blurs as the light intensifies, a voice echoing not in my ears, but in my bones.
Child of the divided bond.
I gasp.
Riven drops to one knee without thinking, head bowed.
“You have been touched by crown and curse,” the voice continues. “By loyalty and by betrayal.”
Tears spill freely down my cheeks. “I didn’t mean to anger you,” I whisper.
You did not, she replies. But fate bends only so far before it snaps.
The silver light brushes my skin, and for a heartbeat, I feel her—my wolf—stir faintly. Not awake. Not gone.
Waiting.
You will walk as human until the blood moon, the Goddess says. And in that time, you will learn what power truly costs.
The light shifts toward Riven.
Alpha King, she intones. You have claimed what was not yet free.
Riven’s jaw tightens. “I will protect her,” he says. “With my life.”
You will, she agrees. And it will change you.
The pressure lifts suddenly. The light fades. The clouds still.
I collapse forward, breath ragged.
Riven catches me, cradling me against his chest.
“It’s over,” he murmurs. “She’s gone.”
I cling to him, trembling, overwhelmed.
“What does this mean?” I whisper.
“It means,” he says softly, brushing his lips against my hair, “that the Goddess is watching you now.”
I close my eyes.
For the first time since losing my wolf, I don’t feel entirely alone.
And that terrifies me almost as much as it comforts me.