Lyra's lungs burned as she raced through the darkened hallways of the manor, her footsteps echoing loudly against the stone floors. She had no idea where she was going—all she knew was that she needed to get as far away from Kael and the chaos behind her as possible. The weight of everything that had just happened crashed down on her, making it hard to breathe, but she forced herself to keep moving.
**Marcus.** The name echoed in her mind like a warning bell. Whoever he was, he was coming for her. Kael had warned her about others, about wolves who would stop at nothing to find her—and now, those wolves were here. Kael had been right, and now she had no choice but to run.
The hallway seemed endless, stretching out in front of her in a blur of shadows and flickering candlelight. She could still hear the distant sounds of the struggle behind her—snarling, crashing, the unmistakable sounds of a fight between beasts. But she didn't look back. She couldn't.
