Lyra Stormweaver wanted to rule the sky, but tonight the sky wanted to kill her. She was the only elf who dreamed of a crown among the storm spirits, those immortal lords who ride the thunder. Now one of their tempests tore through her woodland home. Wind ripped the roof from her hut. Rain drove sideways through the broken wall. She grabbed what she could before the storm took it all. She shoved her tools into a sack. Her cluster of glowing fruits hung from the last standing beam, each one lit with a soft inner light. Those fruits were her food for a month. She reached for them, and a gust slammed the beam down. The fruits rolled across the mud, scattering their pale glow into the dark. Lyra dropped to her knees and chased them. Lightning split a tree behind her. The trunk crashed where she had stood. She had no shelter now. The storm would strip her bare within the hour. Then she saw the wolf. It stepped from the trees like the storm had made it. Blue light ran along its fur in jagged lines, bright as the lightning above. It watched her with pale eyes and did not flinch at the thunder. Lyra froze. The creature carried the same power she had chased her whole life. The wolf lowered its head and nosed one of the fallen fruits toward her. She took it. Its fur crackled under her fingers, warm, not burning. The animal turned and walked into the wind, then stopped and looked back. Lyra understood. She snatched the last fruits from the mud and followed. The wolf led her under a rock ledge the storm could not reach. She pressed her back to the stone. The light on the wolf's fur held the dark away. For the first time all night, she stopped shaking. A man's voice cut through the rain. "You there. Away from the beast." Lyra turned. Five armored guardsmen climbed the slope, blue capes soaked and heavy. Lightning marks glowed on their chestplates. The one in front raised a gloved hand. He was Aldric Stormwatch, captain of the storm-lords' guard, and his eyes moved from her to the wolf and back. "That animal belongs to the sky-lords," Aldric said. "So do these woods. You are trespassing on their storm." His voice stayed calm, which frightened her more than shouting. Lyra rose. Her home was gone. The wolf pressed against her leg and did not leave. "Then take me to them," she said. "I mean to be one." Aldric's jaw tightened. He had come to drive her out. Now he studied her as if the storm had changed its mind. He signaled his men to circle her. "The sky-lords do not crown elves," he said. "But they will want to see the one their wolf chose." He had shelter. He had her only path upward. And he was already her enemy.