His words struck a nerve, igniting a firestorm of emotions within me. “Stop pretending, Orion!” I shouted, unable to contain my fury. “If you truly cared about Lyra, you wouldn’t have abandoned us at the border for Lilith. She was only six years old. Did you ever consider how terrified she was?”
Orion’s patience snapped. His face twisted in anger. “Why do you keep harping on about this? It was a minor issue. You’re making a mountain out of a molehill. Why can’t you just let it go?”
As if to punctuate his words, he kicked the urn that lay near the disturbed grave. It tumbled across the ground, spilling its contents—ashes that had once been Lyra—into the dirt.
The sight of her ashes scattering sent me into a state of shock. My mind went blank, and my wolf’s anguished howls filled the void. The grief I felt as I watched Lyra cornered by wolves was nothing compared to the pain of seeing her remains disrespected by her own father. The world around me darkened, and I barely noticed my own transformation. My heart turned black, mirroring the darkening of my wolf’s fur.