Episode 1- The Starpath
Today was the day.
The first morning of spring in her eighteenth year.
Lyra Duskbane shoved the last of her second-hand shirts into her worn duffel. The bag's zipper strained against years of near-constant use, the fabric fraying at the seams like everything else in her life. Her bed— little more than a warped wooden frame with a blanket stolen from someone’s clothesline— groaned beneath the weight. She had half expected it to collapse for months. Not that it mattered. After today, she would never need it again.
Today, she was leaving. For good.
Ashmoor Academy awaited— the elite college for the supernatural, and the only sanctioned place in the Moonsbane Pack where initiates could undergo the Moon Goddess’ blessing. There, she would be given the choice: accept or deny the wolf. Accepting meant transformation. Denying meant freedom.
Lyra had made her decision long ago.
She zipped the duffel shut and slung it over her shoulder. Her gaze fell on the cracked photo frame above the fireplace: her and her father, smiling on the day he first taught her to hunt. She was nine, all unruly brown hair and wide grey eyes, innocent and sweet-looking. The years had changed her; she was now tall, wiry but well-muscled, with the same silver eyes and unruly hair, but a large scar graced her shoulder, pearlescent against tanned skin, from a run-in with a mother bear during an impromptu hunt. The mouth that smiled in the photo, was now twisted into an almost permanent scowl. In the photo, her father towered behind her, all muscle and warmth, with kind amber eyes and a beard that hid a gentle smile. He was gonr, now. Where? Lyra could only guess. Perhaps the human world, perhaps dead, or perhaps hiding out somewhere in the vast expanse of the Otherworld.
She clutched the frame for a heartbeat longer, then tucked it carefully into her bag. "This is for you, Dad," she whispered. Then she stepped outside, letting the cabin door swing shut behind her without a second glance.
The forest was quiet, cool shadows stretching between the towering pines as she made her way toward the pack boundary. Her cabin, built at the edge of Moonsbane land, had always been just far enough from the Clearing— the heart of the territory— to keep her isolated.
There, the rest of the pack lived in relative comfort: there was the school, which was sparsely populated with only a few hundred students, all of varying ages, and log cabins, all scattered around the Alpha's longhouse. Alpha Vaelen, his harem of wives, and his sons lived in the longhouse. Luna Selenē, had long since retreated to a separate dwelling with her sons, presumably having fallen out with her mate. Rowan Moonsbane, one of the sons in question, was the heir, though not old enough for the title of Beta, which was still held by Alpha Vaelen's sadistic best friend. Rowan, with his charming smirk and cruel streak, and Riven, the (minutes) younger, colder one— dark-eyed, unreadable, had played their part in her father’s banishment. And, most conveniently for Lyra: both would be at Ashmoor. As soon as she heard of their acceptance, she hastily submitted her application and sat the enterance exam, praying to Artemis that her Runic Studies and combat grades were adequate. Thankfully, they had been.
Lyra smiled grimly. She wasn’t going to Ashmoor to learn. She was going to cause hell for those boys. If they thought they could get away with helping their tyrant father beat and banish her own, then have the audacity to ensure he life for the past five years was hell, they had another thing coming. Lyra Duskbane was not one to be messed with: she was a woman on a mission, and if she got expelled in the process? Who cared? Certainly not her. The human world awaited, a place where she would be free to live out the rest of her days in peace, away from Otherland politics and prissy little Alpha-boys.
The boundary stone loomed into view— a monolith carved with the Moonsbane crest: a full moon circled by a crown of wolfsbane. Lyra placed her palm at its center. The air shimmered, rippling outward like disturbed water. A massive gate formed in the space beyond, sculpted from living wood and adorned with six glowing gemstones—sunstone, onyx, jade, labradorite, moss agate, and moonstone.
The Waygate.
She pulled the rusted key, which she had recieved with her acceptance letter, from her pocket and slid it easily into the center. The gate creaked open, the sound loud in the otherwise silent woods around her. The world shifted, the air shimmering like pavement on a hot day.
On the other side was not forest but void. A star-paved path stretched forward into infinite darkness, it's glow the only indication of wayfinding. Lyra hesitated, then stepped in, closing the door reluctantly behind her. There was no turning back. Not anymore.
The whispers began at once— unintelligible and everywhere. Her breath caught in the thin, eerie air. She walked faster. Shadows flickered in her periphery: wolves howling, blood on her father's back, stones flying past her head.
She ran.
A wolf made of smoke emerged from the void, eyes locked on hers. It pounced. Her scream stuck in her throat— but instead of pain, there was light.
Silver and red flashes assaulted her vision like fireworks. The moon shattered, and from the explosion stepped a woman clad in wolf-pelts and crowned with antlers, a golden bow in hand. Lyra would know the face of the werewolf goddess anywhere. She launched forward, falling on her knees in a show of reverence that she prayed would protect her from whatever judgement awaited.
Artemis.
The goddesses eyes were pure starlight, gazing at her like twin moons— ancient and unreadable. Lyra felt her scars burn, secrets untold leeching out of her and rising to the surface like steam. There was no deceiving the goddess: she already knew all of her darkest secrets.
To lyra's surprise, the goddess smiled, an edge of mischief in her eternal and painfully beautiful face.
"You were born in silence, my child," the goddess said, her voice like thunder. "But you will end in it."
The Starpath light liquefied beneath Lyra’s knees, plummetting her towards the ground. She fell.
And fell.
Then—
Impact. She landed on solid stone, gasping. Around her, strangers stared. As Lyra looked down at herself, she halg expected to see that all of her bones had been broken, despite the lack of pain. Mercifully, she found herself somewhat intact.
Iridescent, glittering goop clung to her from the dissolving Starpath, though, making her whole body glow like a crystal.
Suddenly, a sharp voice barked over the crowd: "Out of the way!"
The crowd parted, students bustling to get out of the way of the source of the imposing voice.
A tall figure strode toward her. Hair like moonlight pulled into a bun, mismatched eyes— one green, the other a glowing, fractured silver, reminiscent of a shattered mirror— wearing a plush velvet cloak that shimmered like midnight.
Lyra stopped breathing. He was there most beautiful creature she had ever seen, and his whole body buzzed with the promise of magic far more powerful than anything she had ever experienced— but almost comparable to the Starpath.
"Lyra Duskbane, I presume?" His voice was smooth, almost amused, now.
She nodded.
"You certainly know how to make an entrance." He offered his hand, a kind smile tugging at the edges of his mouth.
She took it, his magic crackling like electricity up her arm.
"Professor Sylas Thorne," he introduced himself. "High Fey, incase it wasn't unbearably obvious," he gestured to his pointed ears, his smile revealing sharp teeth that rivaled her own. "I’ll be your instructor in Supernatural Ethics and Diplomacy."
Her stomach sank like it was suddenly full of bricks.
Of course. The most stunning man she’d ever seen was her f*****g teacher.