Wolves of Two Worlds

Lyra’s  pov 

2045 – New York City

People say time heals everything.

I think that’s a lie people tell themselves so they don’t fall apart.

For me, time didn’t heal anything. It just made the silence louder.

The city below was alive..honking horns, flashing billboards, strangers cursing at the rain. Life moved too fast down there. Too fast, too fake. But up here, on the rooftop of my grandmother’s apartment, everything was still.

No one knew I came up here. No one cared, either. And I liked it that way.

I pulled my hoodie tighter around me, the wind was literally piecing through my skin, i sat on the ledge, twenty stories above the earth’s floor. My boots dangled into open air. Down there, people hurried to wherever they needed to be. Up here… I could almost breathe.

Almost.

The small wooden box in my lap was warm against my freezing hands. Dark oak, runes etched into the surface…faintly glowing under the full moon like someone had drawn them with fire.

Grandma Monroe’s last gift.

Her funeral had been two weeks ago. I hadn’t cried …not really. Too many people watching. Too many strangers telling me “she’s in a better place.” This was the only thing she’d left me. No goodbye letter. No jewelry. Just this box.

And a warning.

“Don’t open it until the moon is full… and only if you’re ready to remember.”

At the time I’d rolled my eyes. Typical Grandma …obsessed with bloodline stories and wolf goddesses and curses passed down “to protect us.”

But tonight… the box wasn’t just glowing. It was pulsing. Like it had a heartbeat.

And the moon above me …huge, red, burning …wasn’t normal either. A blood moon.

I swallowed hard. “Okay, Lyra. It’s just a box. No reason to freak out.”

But my gut wasn’t listening.

My thumb brushed the latch.

Click.

The lid popped open like it had been waiting.

Inside ..just a single folded piece of parchment, yellowed and old with age. My fingers trembled as I opened it. One symbol stared back at me: a crescent moon wrapped in fire.

And a message scrawled in ink: ‘The fire remembers. So will you.’

“What the hell does that even mean?” I muttered.

And then the sky split open.

Lightning flared, blinding white. Wind howled hard enough to rip the box from my lap. Rain fell in sharp, icy needles ..but I barely felt it.

Because the rooftop was melting.

The edges blurred like heatwaves. My breath came fast, too fast. The moonlight wasn’t soft anymore; it was alive, burning into me.

And then — flames.

Not real fire, but in my head, in my blood. Visions slammed into me like a freight train.

Then I saw ….

‘Wolves running through snow’ 

‘A woman screaming in agony.’

‘A hand reaching toward the sky.’ 

‘A name that didn’t belong to me.’

“Seraphina”. 

I hit my knees, choking on air. The name seared behind my eyes like someone had branded it into my soul.

And then ..nothing…nothing 

Everything went blink..

I woke to the smell of pine.

My cheek pressed against wet earth. Grass under my fingers. My whole body throbbed like I’d fallen twenty stories and survived by accident.

Except… maybe I hadn’t survived at all.

Because New York was gone.

I pushed myself up, groaning. Trees towered over me — ancient, gnarled, heavy with mist. The forest smelled too sharp, too alive. Every rustle, every breath of wind felt magnified.

“Okay…” I whispered to no one. “This is not happening.”

But it was.

My hoodie was ripped. My hands were scraped raw. The box …gone.

“Hello?” I called, my voice breaking. “Is anyone—”

A low growl cut me off.

Branches cracked. My stomach dropped.

Three figures stepped out of the trees. Human ….but not. Their eyes glowed faint gold in the moonlight. Their movements were… wrong. Too smooth. Too predatory.

The woman’s gaze swept over me. “She’s human.”

“No,” the tallest man said, voice like gravel. “She smells like her.”

“Who?” I demanded, stumbling backward.

No answer.

The woman stepped closer. “Where did you come from?”

“I— I don’t know!” My breath hitched. “One second I was on a roof, then there was lightning, and—”

“This has to be a dream,” I muttered.

The scarred man bared his teeth. “She reeks of her.”

Before I could run, the tall one grabbed my wrist, yanking me forward. His grip was iron.

“Who sent you?” he growled.

“N-no one!”

“She’s lying,” the scarred man snarled.

“I’m not!” My voice cracked. “I don’t even know who you’re talking about!”

The woman moved faster than I could blink. A cloth pressed against my mouth. Bitter fumes filled my lungs. I thrashed …and darkness swallowed me whole.

⸻

This time, when I woke, I wasn’t on the ground.

But instead ‘Stone walls’. A single wooden bench. Iron bars across a tiny window. My head pounded like a drum.

“What the hell is going on…” I whispered, running a hand over my face.

The door creaked open.

And he walked in.

Tall. Cold. Powerful. His boots echoed on the stone floor. Black hair curled at his jawline, damp from rain. And his eyes …gods!!!!!! they burned gold.

The air felt heavy, like it belonged to him.

I backed against the wall on instinct.

He stopped a few steps away, staring at me like I was a ghost. His gaze moved over me slowly, not in a way that made my skin crawl… but in a way that made my pulse skip.

He inhaled once. And growled.

Low. And. Dangerous.

“You…” His voice was deep, rough. “You smell like her.”

My throat tightened. “Like who?!”

His jaw clenched. “Seraphina.”

The name hit me like a punch. My vision swam.

“I don’t know anyone named Seraphina,” I whispered.

But he didn’t look convinced. His golden eyes burned hotter, and for a second, I thought I saw something under the anger ..it was pain.

“She was my mate.”

The word hung in the air like smoke.

Before I could speak, before I could even process, he turned to the door.

“Lock her down,” he ordered. His voice was colder now, like he’d slammed a wall between us. “No one talks to her. No one touches her. If she escapes…” He glanced at me again, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. “…I’ll finish what the fire started.”

Then he was gone.

The door slammed shut.

I sat there trembling, breath coming in shallow bursts, heart racing so fast it hurt.

I didn’t know where I was. I didn’t know who Seraphina was.

But one thing was clear:

I wasn’t in my world anymore.

And whoever Seraphina had been… she wasn’t forgotten. 

And I need to know who she was ….