I notice how Lyanna’s eyes light up at the praise, her shoulders relaxing slightly. She glances at me, and pride in what we’ve created together passes between us.
The bonfire blazes in the gathering darkness, casting flickering light across the festival grounds. Ice sculptures glitter like living creatures in the firelight, their frozen surfaces reflecting flames in ways that create an almost magical atmosphere.
I stand with my back to a large pine, watching as Rhonan takes position before the crowd. His presence commands attention without effort; a royal bearing he can’t fully shed despite his choice to join our pack.
“Spring Equinox in Drakoria involves fire ceremonies that celebrate balance and renewal,” Rhonan explains, his deep voice carrying across the hushed gathering. His hands move with practiced precision, creating controlled patterns of flame with his dragon and earth magic that dance and weave above the bonfire. “I’ve modified these for safety, but the essence remains—honoring the transition from darkness to light, winter to spring.”
The crowd watches, transfixed, as ribbons of fire twist into intricate shapes—dragons, wolves, and fae forms intertwining in perfect harmony. Children gasp and point when Rhonan sends a flame dragon soaring over their heads before dissolving it into harmless sparks.
I feel Lyanna’s presence before I see her. She slides in beside me, close enough that her arm presses warm against mine.
“He’s incredible,” she murmurs, her eyes reflecting the dancing flames.
“It’s good for the community to see this,” I reply, voice rougher than intended. “Magic used openly, celebrated instead of feared.”
Around us, pack members mingle freely with townspeople. Nova leans against Dane near the bonfire, his arm draped casually around her shoulders as they laugh with Mayor Wilson. Even Nyxiana moves comfortably through the crowd alongside Evie—the young dragon who’ll be joining our pack soon, if the rumors are true. Both are greeted with genuine warmth rather than the suspicion that would have met them months ago.
This is what we’ve built—supernatural and human, celebrating together. The tension that haunted Silverwood for generations has transformed into something new.
My attention keeps returning to Lyanna. Firelight dances across her face, illuminating her delicate features with a goldenglow that seems to come from within. When she smiles at something Rhonan says, it hits me with physical force.
I want this. Not just tonight, but every night. Her beside me, our pack family thriving, the community embracing all we are. The contentment I feel in this moment is so complete it’s almost painful.
Rhonan’s ceremony builds to its climax, flames weaving into a perfect symbol of balance—light and dark, winter and spring, perfectly harmonized like complementary forces meant to coexist. As the fire symbol hovers above the bonfire, Lyanna’s hand finds mine in the shadows. Her fingers intertwine with mine, warm and sure. Fae and wolf. Another kind of balance.
The crowd erupts in applause as Rhonan’s ceremony concludes. But I barely hear them. Something profound is shifting inside me as I look down at Lyanna, her face turned up to mine in the firelight.
I stand perfectly still, feeling the celebration unfold around me. Lyanna’s hand remains in mine, warm and certain.
My wolf, usually restless and vigilant, has gone completely still. He’s watching her, transfixed, as though seeing her for the first time.
The firelight catches in her honey-blonde hair, and suddenly I’m not just seeing her beauty. I’m seeingher. The healer who faced down a deadly contamination. The fae who chose this pack as her home. The woman who moves in perfect coordination with me without words.
This is what I want forever. Her, this pack, this perfect life together.
The realization hits with absolute clarity. The intensity of what I feel goes beyond anything I’ve experienced before. My wolf now paces with renewed purpose, no longer fighting for control but absolutely certain of what we need. I imagine her beside me through all the seasons to come. Celebrating festivals, healingthe pack, building something meaningful together. I see our hands intertwined as we face whatever challenges come next. I picture her emerald eyes meeting mine across pack meetings, that private smile meant only for me.
The intensity of it steals my breath. This isn’t just attraction or desire—it’s recognition of something deeper. Something permanent. Somethingright.
I tighten my fingers around hers, feeling the connection between us hum with new significance. She glances up, still unaware of the seismic shift happening inside me. Her lips curve into a questioning smile, and I can’t find words yet for this overwhelming certainty.
My wolf knows something I’m only beginning to understand. Whatever this is between us, it’s profound. Undeniable. And worth fighting for.
Chapter 12
Lyanna
Three days after the festival, I’m back to the work I love most—teaching.
I adjust Evan’s hands on Clara’s shoulder, guiding his fingers to the proper pressure points.
“It feels ... warmer than I expected,” Evan says, concentration furrowing his brow.
“Good. That warmth means you’re connecting properly.” I step back, observing his technique as he applies gentle pressure. Clara’s bruised shoulder gradually shifts from purple to yellow-green under his hands. “Perfect. The energy flow is better when you maintain consistent contact.”
“Clara’s body knows how to heal this,” I tell the watching pack members. “But left alone, it would take a day, maybe more.What we’re teaching you is to feel that same instinct you use when you’re hurt—that knowing of where to rest, how to move—and direct it toward your packmates. Evan, you’ve felt your own muscles knit after a fight, yes? That memory, that feeling? Channel that into Clara now.”
Evan’s eyes widen slightly as understanding dawns. “It’s like ... remembering forward?”
