Lyon didn't immediately respond. His breath froze in his chest as Kael's trembling whisper hung in the humid night air.
"You are the heir of a power that was forbidden to exist."
The words crushed the night's silence like thunder.
Kael swallowed hard, stepping back as if standing too close to Lyon could scorch him. His eyes darted to the glowing sigil pulsing faintly beneath Lyon's skin—the same swirling pattern that had burned itself into his flesh the moment of his rebirth.
Lyon exhaled slowly.
"So… this isn't just some strange rebirth ability."
Kael shook his head.
"No. This is older. Much older. Before the Courts. Before the Packs. Before the Alpha Thrones."
His voice cracked, as though saying the truth aloud carried weight.
"Lyon, you carry the bloodline of the Primordials."
Lyon's heart stilled.
He had heard the word only once—buried in old mythbooks forbidden to commoners. A tale told by moon-washed elders who always whispered it, as if afraid something ancient would awaken from hearing its own name.
"The Primordials?" Lyon asked quietly. "I thought they were stories."
Kael gave a humorless laugh. "We all did. Until now."
He moved closer, lowering his voice.
"Your father… Damon Kade… he never accidentally fell into disgrace. He stepped down. He hid you. He hid this."
Lyon felt as though the ground shifted beneath him.
His father—weak, quiet Damon Kade—had always seemed like a man crushed by life. A man who never fought back. Who let Lyon suffer humiliation after humiliation.
But now…
Lyon clenched his jaw.
"He kept secrets from me."
Kael shook his head.
"No. He protected you. The Primordial Heir was hunted by the High Council centuries ago. They erased the bloodline. Anyone suspected of carrying even a spark of it was executed."
Lyon stared at the ground, pulse tightening.
"So you're saying… I should be dead."
"Yes," Kael whispered. "And if the Council discovers what awakened in you tonight… you still might be."
Silence fell.
Only the rustling of trees dared to breathe.
Lyon closed his eyes. Images flashed in his mind—the moment he died, the moment he was reborn, the pain that folded itself into his bones, the sigil burning like molten fire across his skin.
He opened his eyes, calmer than he expected.
"Good," he said softly.
Kael blinked. "Good? Lyon, this is not—"
"It means I have power they fear." Lyon's voice hardened with conviction. "It means I'm not their weakness anymore."
Kael stared at him, stunned.
"You really are different."
"I'm done living crushed beneath others," Lyon said. "If this bloodline is mine… I'll use it."
His tone held something new. Something sharper. Something regal.
Kael straightened unconsciously, as if acknowledging a natural shift in dominance.
But then he hesitated.
"Lyon… there's more."
Lyon arched a brow. "More?"
Kael licked dry lips.
"When a Primordial awakens… the moon reacts."
"What are you talking about?"
Kael pointed upward.
Lyon turned—and froze.
The moon was no longer silver.
It shimmered with a faint, impossible gold glow, swirling softly like a pulse.
A reaction.
To him.
"What does it mean?" Lyon whispered.
Kael's voice trembled.
"It means your awakening wasn't quiet. The High Council… the Royal Packs… every sensitive Alpha in the region will feel this disturbance."
He looked Lyon dead in the eye.
"They will come."
Lyon stared up at the moon—its golden ripples echoing the warmth in his veins.
"Let them come," he said softly.
But even as he whispered the words, a sudden crack of branches echoed from the forest edge.
Lyon's body snapped into instinct.
He grabbed Kael and pulled him behind a fallen tree just as shadows emerged from the darkness—three figures, cloaked, moving with predatory intent.
"Council scouts," Kael mouthed, voice barely a breath.
Lyon's pulse didn't race.
Strangely… he felt calm.
He listened.
Step. Crunch. Step.
Their movements were too controlled to be rogues. Too quiet to be wolves. These were trained enforcers… trackers sent to investigate anomalies.
One figure crouched and touched the ground where Lyon's glowing sigil had flared earlier.
"He's been here," the scout murmured. "The reading is unstable. This is no ordinary surge."
Another replied, voice harsh.
"The moon reacted. A Primordial signature, or something close. Alpha orders: search the entire region. Nothing leaves unnoticed."
Kael's breath hitched.
Lyon placed a steadying hand on his shoulder.
"We should run," Kael whispered.
"No." Lyon's eyes glinted. "Running confirms fear. Let's move carefully… but not because we're prey."
Kael stared at him, astonished at the shift.
Lyon wasn't acting like the humiliated weakling the pack had trampled for years.
He felt different.
He was different.
Lyon gestured for Kael to follow him silently away from the scouts. They moved deeper into the forest, steps muffled by damp soil. Lyon's senses sharpened with unnatural clarity—he could feel the heartbeat of every creature within a hundred meters, hear the subtle shift of wind against grass, taste the metallic echo of the scouts' weapons.
When they were far enough, Kael finally whispered:
"What will you do now?"
Lyon looked toward the distant lights of the pack settlement—his home, his humiliation, his grave… and now, his rebirth.
"I'll return," Lyon said.
Kael flinched.
"Are you mad? Lyon, the Council's watchers—"
Lyon shook his head.
"The trials are at dawn. If I run now, I'm marked as a fugitive. If I hide, I look guilty."
He looked Kael dead in the eyes.
"But if I walk into that arena as though nothing has changed… they won't expect anything."
"But Lyon—no weak wolf survives the trials! And if the Council suspects—"
"Then I'll show them something they have never seen," Lyon said quietly.
"And I won't need to reveal the full truth yet."
Kael stared at him, then slowly exhaled.
"You're serious."
Lyon nodded once.
"I'm reclaiming my place. My name. My destiny. Let them watch me. Let them doubt me. Let them fear me."
A faint ripple of golden energy pulsed beneath his skin.
Kael sensed it and stepped back involuntarily. Not from fear, but from awe.
"You're not just the reborn heir…" he whispered.
"You're becoming something else."
Lyon turned away, eyes fixed on the distant horizon where dawn would soon break.
"No," he said softly.
"I'm becoming what I was always meant to be."
And as the first faint shimmer of morning light touched the clouds, Lyon Kade walked forward—
Not as prey.
But as the beginning of a storm.