The forest stretched endlessly under the silver moon, each tree a sentinel in the night. Shadows curled around gnarled roots and jagged rocks, moving like living things, whispering secrets only the wind understood. Lyra's bare feet pressed into the damp moss, cold and soft, yet grounding. Every sense was alive: the rustle of leaves, the faint growl of creatures in the distance, the metallic tang of danger hanging in the air.
"Lyra."
The voice came from the darkness low, smooth, and entirely unmistakable. She didn't need to see him to know he was there.
"Liam," she replied, exhaling a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.
From the shadows, he emerged. Liam was impossibly tall, lean, and terrifyingly graceful. His amber eyes glowed faintly in the moonlight, flecked with gold like molten metal. His black hair fell in unruly waves around sharp cheekbones, and his movements carried the fluidity of both predator and protector. Half-werewolf, half-vampire an abomination in the eyes of their world. But to Lyra, Liam was her anchor, her family.
"You're late," she said lightly, though the corners of her mouth twitched with relief at seeing him.
"And you're dramatic," he replied, smirking. "But we both know why. Punctuality is for mortals, not monsters."
She rolled her eyes, smiling despite herself. "You really think you're funny, don't you?"
"I know I am," he said, crouching down to inspect the moss, ears twitching at the faintest rustle. "But right now, listen. There's movement something bigger than usual tonight."
Lyra stiffened. She had learned long ago to trust his instincts. Both of them were castaways, rejected by society, feared and hunted for what they were. She and Liam had found each other in the cracks of the world two misfits surviving because no one else would. That shared history had forged a bond stronger than fear, stronger than blood.
"You think it's the vampires again?" she asked softly.
"No." Liam shook his head, amber eyes scanning the shadows. "It's older. Stronger. And it's close."
He moved closer to her, protective and unyielding. "Stay near me. Always. Not just because of what's out there, but because no one else can keep you safe like I can."
Her chest tightened. "We've survived because of each other, Liam. You know that, right?"
"I know," he said, voice low and warm. "You're the only reason I'm still standing. The only reason I'm not completely alone in this world."
Lyra stepped closer, brushing her hand against his arm. "And you're the only one I trust. You always have been."
A flicker of humor lit his dangerous, wolfish grin. "Look at you, finally admitting it. Makes me feel all heroic."
"You're impossible," she whispered.
"And you love me for it," he countered, and she couldn't help but laugh. It rang out in the forest, bright against the creeping shadows.
They had been united by being cast away, by having no one else. Both shunned, both feared, both misunderstood yet together they were unstoppable. The world might reject them, but they had each other. And that was enough.
But the night was not still. From the darkness, something watched silent, patient, hungry. Its eyes glowed faintly, red and cruel, and the air grew thick with a smell she recognized too well: iron and decay.
Liam tensed, claws flexing, fangs glinting as he crouched low. "Stay behind me," he murmured, eyes narrowing. "Whatever that is… it won't take you while I'm here."
Her heart pounded, not from fear, but from the fierce comfort of knowing he would never let anything touch her. United by rejection, bound by loyalty, they were more than survivors. They were a storm waiting to break, a force the world had underestimated.
The wind whispered again through the trees, carrying a faint promise of danger, and Lyra shivered not from the cold, but from the thrill of standing beside the one person who would never let her fall.