LYRA

The dream began with blood.

Not mine.

Lucian’s.

It coated my hands thick and dark beneath silver moonlight while wolves screamed somewhere far away. The sound echoed strangely, distorted like voices underwater.

The bond pulsed violently.

Wrong.

Cold spread through it instantly.

I looked up.

Lucian stood across from me in the center of Blackwater Ridge.

Only—

Not Lucian.

Something wearing him.

His eyes glowed silver-black instead of gold, shadows moving beneath his skin like living ...