Chapter 22 Recognition
That night, Lyro told me things I'd never known about wolf society.
He talked about Omega myths that had been erased from official histories. About ancient female wolves who'd held power before the current pack system was established. About prophecies and legends that the Council had systematically suppressed.
"There were these stories my grandmother used to tell," Lyro said, his voice quieter now, more reverent. "About the Moon Goddess and her chosen. Female wolves with silver magic who could command reality itself. They were called Oracles, and they kept the packs in balance. Stopped tyrants, protected the weak, made sure power didn't corrupt completely."
My heart was racing, but I kept my expression carefully neutral.
What happened to them?
"The Council happened." Lyro's expression darkened. "Couple centuries ago, the Alphas decided they didn't want anyone checking their power. So they hunted down every Oracle they could find. Killed them, erased them from history, rewrote the legends to make Oracles sound like monsters instead of protectors."
They killed them all?
"That's what the official histories say. But my grandmother always insisted one bloodline survived. That somewhere, hidden and sealed, the Oracle's children were waiting. That one day, they'd come back and restore what was broken."
He laughed, but it sounded hollow. "Probably just wishful thinking from an old Omega who wanted to believe the powerful could be held accountable. But it's a nice story."
I stared at my notepad, my hand shaking slightly.
Very nice story, I finally wrote.
Lyro yawned and stretched. "Anyway, that's your wolf lore lesson for the night. I'm going to shower and crash. Try not to glow while I'm asleep, yeah? I'd like to keep this room assignment."
I'll do my best.
After Lyro left for the showers, I sat on my bed and stared at my hands. The same hands that had glowed silver in front of Dante. The same hands that had triggered forbidden magic in the hallway.
Oracle hands.
For the first time since arriving at the Academy, I considered actually practicing my power instead of just suppressing it.
Rafe had wanted me to learn control. Had spent years teaching me the forbidden arts in the temple. Maybe it was time to stop hiding and start preparing.
I waited until I heard Lyro's soft snoring from across the room. Then I carefully got up and moved to the small space between our beds.
I held out my hands and thought about the silver light. About the energy that flowed through me. About my mother's magic and the power sealed inside me.
For once, I didn't push it down. I let it rise.
Silver threads appeared in the air, thin and delicate at first. I wove them carefully, creating a barrier between my bed and Lyro's. A shield of light that would muffle sound and hide any magical glow from his side of the room.
The spell held steady, humming softly with power. My first controlled magic. My first deliberate choice to embrace what I was instead of fighting it.
Through the silver threads, I practiced other techniques. Small ones. Cautious ones. Making objects float. Creating patterns of light. Testing the limits of what I could do.
On the other side of the barrier, Lyro shifted in his sleep but didn't wake. The spell was working.
I was so focused on my practice that I almost didn't notice when Lyro spoke.
"They'll kill you if they realize what you are."
I spun around, my heart racing, and saw him sitting up in bed. He was looking directly at me through the silver barrier, his green eyes reflecting the magical light.
How long have you been awake?
"Since you started practicing." Lyro's expression was unreadable. "I'm a light sleeper. Comes from years of watching my back."
Are you going to report me?
"For what? Being exactly what the old stories said existed?" Lyro shook his head. "Nah. Like I said, enemy of my enemy. Besides..." He smiled slightly. "My grandmother would be thrilled to know she was right. The Oracle bloodline survived."
I never said I was—
"Please. Silver magic? Female scent under all those suppressants? That whole forbidden power thing in the hallway?" Lyro raised an eyebrow. "I'm not stupid, Sterling. Or should I say Oracle?"
I stared at him, frozen. He knew. Somehow, he'd figured it out.
You can't tell anyone.
"Obviously. I quite like being alive, thanks." Lyro lay back down. "Your secret's safe with me. Just... be careful, okay? The Council has spies everywhere. If they figure out what you are, they'll send assassins."
I know. They already killed my brother.
The words were out before I could stop them. I'd never told anyone except the Trio, and that had been involuntary through the bond.
Lyro was quiet for a long moment. "I'm sorry," he said finally, and he sounded like he meant it. "For what it's worth, whoever you're doing this for—they'd probably be proud of how far you've come."
I thought about Rafe. About the promise I'd made over his grave.
I hope so, I wrote.
After that night, something changed between Lyro and me. We developed an unspoken understanding. He'd keep my secret. I'd trust him with truths I couldn't share with anyone else.
He started helping me practice, keeping watch while I worked on controlling my magic. Offering suggestions based on the old stories his grandmother had told him.
"The legends said Oracles could write someone's name in magic and the person would appear," Lyro mentioned one night while I was practicing thread barriers. "Like a summoning spell."
That's probably just myth.
"Maybe. Or maybe you should try it."
I hesitated. Then, because I was alone and Lyro was trustworthy and I desperately needed to feel connected to Rafe again, I did.
I wove silver light in the air, forming letters carefully.
R-A-F-E
The name hung in the darkness, glowing softly. Just letters. Just light. Nothing more.
Then something answered.
The letters pulsed once, twice, like a heartbeat. Warmth flooded through my chest—not the bond, which was dead and gone, but something else. Something deeper.
For just a second, I felt Rafe's presence. Not him, not really. But the echo of him. The memory of who he'd been, preserved in magic and love.
I'm here, sister, the warmth seemed to say. Keep going. Finish what we started.
Then it faded, and I was left staring at silver letters that slowly dissolved into nothing.
I was crying. Silently, as always, but definitely crying.
"Whoa," Lyro whispered. "Did that just—"
He heard me, I wrote through tears. Somehow, he heard me.
"The magic remembers," Lyro said softly. "That's what my grandmother always said. Magic remembers everyone it touches. Your brother's magic is still out there, still connected to yours."
The idea gave me comfort I hadn't expected. Rafe was gone, but not completely. His magic lived in mine. His strength was still with me.
I could do this. I could finish the mission. For both of us.
I woke to screaming.
Not mine. Lyro's.
He was sitting bolt upright in bed, gasping for air, his eyes wide with terror. The silver barrier I'd erected between our beds had dissolved hours ago when I'd fallen asleep.
What's wrong? I wrote quickly, moving to his side of the room.
"I saw—" Lyro's voice was shaking. "There was this woman. Made of silver light. A wolf goddess or something. And you were standing in front of her, covered in blood. She was saying something about the moon and the seal breaking and—"
He cut himself off, staring at me with dawning horror.
"I shouldn't have been able to see that," he whispered. "That was your dream. Your vision. How did I—"
Through the bond I'd been trying to ignore, I felt the Trio wake simultaneously across the Academy. They'd felt something too. A surge of power. A connection forming.
I looked at Lyro's terrified face and realized what had happened.
The magic had recognized him as an ally. As someone who believed in the Oracle, who wanted to help restore balance. And in recognizing him, it had opened a small connection. Enough to share visions. Enough to bind him to this mission whether he wanted it or not.
I'm so sorry, I wrote.
"What did you do to me?" Lyro demanded, though his voice held more confusion than anger.
I didn't mean to. The magic just—
"Chose me?" Lyro laughed, high and slightly hysterical. "Great. Fantastic. I'm now magically involved in whatever prophecy bullshit you're tangled up in. This is exactly how I wanted to spend my senior year."
You can leave. You don't have to—
"Oh, I'm not leaving." Lyro's expression shifted from fear to determination. "If magic chose me, there's a reason. My grandmother always said the Goddess doesn't make mistakes." He took a shaky breath. "So. What do we do now, Oracle?"
Before I could respond, someone pounded on our door.
Hard. Aggressive. Demanding.
"Sterling!" Jax's voice, cold and commanding. "Open this door. Now."
Through the bond, I felt all three of them outside. They'd sensed the surge of power when the magic connected to Lyro. They knew something had happened.
And they weren't leaving until they got answers.