LYRA

“No,” I whispered.

The word barely left my mouth.

The wolf stared at me from beneath the fractured earth, enormous silver-black fur shimmering beneath the glow pouring from the ruins below. Its eyes burned like liquid moonlight fixed entirely on me with terrifying familiarity.

Not similar.

Not close.

Exactly.

Same silver eyes.

Same sharp structure.

Even the white streak cutting through the fur along its throat mirrored the faint crescent-shaped birthmark near my collarbone.

The bond ...