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He Branded Me as His Mate, Then Chose Another as His Luna
NovelShort
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“Elder,I wish to sever my soul-bond with my mate,Myron Lestrange,”Savina said,standing before the Moon Council’s stone desk.“And I demand a compulsory judgment of exile.” She placed their bo...
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第1章
“Elder,I wish to sever my soul-bond with my mate,Myron Lestrange,”Savina said,standing before the Moon Council’s stone desk.“And I demand a compulsory judgment of exile.”
She placed their bonding sigil and two name-stones upon the table.
The council scribe lifted her head,her silver eyes glinting in surprise.
“Savina of the Nichols bloodline?”she asked uncertainly.“You’re the she-wolf accused of madness by the healer’s circle last moon…the one who charged the Moon Healer with malpractice?”
At once,Savina’s hand clenched into a trembling fist.Her gaze snapped up,eyes flashing with the fury of a wounded beast.
The scribe quickly dropped her eyes and stammered an apology before continuing in a neutral tone.
“My lady,your right to dwell within the Silver Plains was granted through your bond to Lord Myron.If you break that bond,you will lose your claim to this territory and be cast out by the next moon.”
Savina laughed bitterly,her voice sharp as a claw.“I know.But don’t trouble yourselves.The guards won’t need to drive me out—I’ll leave on my own.”
Three moons ago,their cub had fallen ill—his blood had turned dark,his body too weak to heal.Only a blood-soul transfusion could save him.
Yet,on the night of the ceremony,as the healers drew their knives and the cub lay on the altar of life,the chief healer suddenly stepped back.
“I cannot,”she declared coldly.“To lower myself to such crude sorcery would stain my hands.”
Because of her refusal,their cub’s breath faltered.He survived,but he could no longer walk.His spirit was half-trapped between life and death.
Savina had accused the healer—Helene Hester—before the Moon Tribunal.Victory was within reach when Myron himself locked her inside their den.
Standing over her,his tone colder than frost,he said,“I’ve withdrawn the charge.Record a public apology.In return,I’ll summon the best healers from the East to treat our son.”
“If you refuse,”he warned,“I’ll show the Council your madness decree.You’ll never see our cub again.”
She couldn’t comprehend it.They were a family.How could he side with an outsider—against his own blood?
Holding back her rage,Savina lifted her chin.“She crippled our son.She should answer to the Goddess for that!”
Myron frowned,impatient.A moment later,he held up a scroll—the madness decree,already sealed with his crest—and flung it into the pack square for all to see.
Within hours,the clans whispered:Savina,the deranged mate.
Once,Myron would have torn out the throat of anyone who dared mock her.
Now,he stood beside her enemy,helping destroy her.
“Will you apologize or not?”he demanded.
Savina’s claws dug into her palm until blood dripped onto the pale furs,staining them red.
“Myron,”she cried,“after seven years bound by the Moon’s vow,this is how you treat me?”
For a heartbeat,doubt flickered in his eyes.But then it vanished.
He pulled out their cub’s carved likeness and showed it to her.
“I’ll give you one last chance,”he said.“If you truly don’t care for our son,then defy me again.”
The next instant,a vision stone flared to life—showing their cub on his sickbed,his air rune being removed,one by one.
Savina’s voice cracked.“No!Don’t hurt him!I’ll do it—I’ll say what you want!”
And so,when Myron left with the recording of her“apology,”he didn’t even glance back.
Before he could reach the door,Savina grabbed his cloak.“Myron…who is Helene to you?”
His answer fell like thunder.“My first mate.”
It was as if the Goddess herself had frozen her blood.Now she understood why he had defended Helene,why he had ruined her for her.Helene wasn’t just a healer—she was the one he had loved before Savina.
When they met,Myron had been nothing but a broken wolf,abandoned by that same woman for being low-born and powerless.Savina had been the one who stayed,the one who helped him rise from ruin.
She had believed seven years of devotion could thaw his heart.She was wrong.
When the truth finally shattered the last illusion,she didn’t scream or weep.Her calm frightened even herself.
That was how she managed to steal his crest-mark and come to the Moon Council to demand the severing of their bond.
The scribe finally returned her sigils.“Once the one-moon purification ends,”she said,“your bond will be dissolved.”
Savina nodded faintly,then looked down at the torn sigil—their binding mark—and ripped it clean in half.
Love that had rotted,and the wolf who had fouled it—both deserved to burn.
Just as she stepped out of the Moon Hall,a messenger hawk landed beside her with a sealed rune.It carried a message from the trade guild.
“Lady Savina,”the voice rune said,“Lord Lestrange has signed your resignation scroll.But it seems he doesn’t realize it was you who filed it.Shall we tell him?”
“That won’t be necessary,”she replied,her tone quiet but edged.“He’ll know soon enough.”
When the purification moon ends—he’ll know everything.
Even on the night of their cub’s ceremony,Savina had already wanted to sever the bond.But Myron refused,threatening to send their son to the Northern Sanctum.
If he could be that heartless,then she would not hesitate to take her son and leave.
After the council’s decree,Savina returned to the trading hall to finish her handover.
She had followed Myron from his days as a nameless rogue to the Alpha of the Ironfang Hold.
She’d sacrificed her own contracts with the merchant clans to stand beside him.
Looking back now,that devotion felt like a cruel joke.
She was nearly done packing when Myron appeared.
Seeing the scrolls in her hands,his brows furrowed—but he forced a gentle tone.
“You’ve been unwell lately.Take a rest for a while,”he murmured.
Then,casually,“Don’t wait for me at the den tonight.I’m escorting Helene.”
For five years,that horse beside him had been hers.Now,it carried another woman.
Looking at the wolf she had loved for seven years,Savina felt a hollow ache.
“Myron,”she asked softly,“will you truly ignore what she did to our cub?”
His gaze lowered.“What’s done is done,Savina.You can’t drag the living to the grave for the dead.That’s not fair.”
Her vision burned.
“Fair?”she echoed.“Was it fair when you branded me mad to protect her?
Was it fair when you traded justice for our cub’s life—just to shield your first love?
And me?I walked through every storm beside you,and now you bring her home to our den.Tell me,Myron—where’s the fairness in that?”
Her voice rose,echoing through the hall.Wolves outside stopped to listen.
Myron’s eyes darkened.He seized her wrist harshly.
“Enough,”he growled.“You want to challenge me,do it in private.Don’t shame yourself here.”
He flung her aside.She hit the edge of the stone table,her head bursting with pain.
He reached to steady her,but before he could,Helene entered and threw herself into his arms.
“Oh,Myron,”she purred,“I lost my footing.Forgive me.”
Instantly,his anger vanished.“It’s fine,”he said softly.“I’ll have the servants brew your favorite draught tonight.”
They flirted openly,right before Savina’s eyes.
Biting through the pain,she rose,gripping the table for balance,and turned to leave.
But as she passed,Helene blocked her path with a bright smile.
“I came to offer you something,Savina,”she said sweetly.“A banner of honor.”
“I’m sorry about your cub.To make amends,I’ve enrolled him in a special healer’s trial.Our circle is testing a new elixir that may restore movement to the crippled.He’s already been taken to the healer caves.It’s…a great service to the pack.”
Her smile widened.“Your son brings glory to his mother—even in his condition.”
Then she handed Savina a silk banner embroidered with gold runes.“This is from the healer circle.Their way of thanking you.”
Savina’s tears broke free.Her precious cub—paralyzed,suffering—had become Helene’s experiment.
“Wretch!”she roared,striking at her.
But before her hand could reach Helene,Myron caught her wrist.
“That’s enough!”he snapped.“Helene came with goodwill,and you repay her with this madness?”
His voice was sharp as a lash.“Continue this,and I will dissolve our bond myself!”
He turned away,wrapping his arm protectively around Helene’s shoulders.
Watching them leave,Savina crumpled to the floor,sobbing until her breath came in shallow gasps.
When the tears finally ran dry,she pushed herself up,numb and pale.
She climbed to the roof of the trading hall and summoned a spirit raven.
“Dike,”she whispered to the wind,“you once promised me—if ever I became unbound,you’d claim me,with a dowry worth two million moon-stones.”
“Well,one moon from now,I’ll be free,”she said,her voice cold and clear.“Are you still keeping that promise?”
第2章
In the highest tower of the Ironcrest fortress,Alpha Dike Fitzsimmons stood before the open balcony,the night wind tugging at his cloak.
Between his fingers,he rolled a string of ancient moon-beads.The cord was frayed,nearly breaking—but he could never bring himself to part with it.
It had been a gift from Savina.
His voice came low,tinged with bitter amusement.
“Back then,you were willing to sell every estate your bloodline owned,just to help that wolf rise from nothing.And afterward,you stayed by his side—content to be his nameless shadow.”
His tone hardened,cold as obsidian.
“I told you long ago,Myron Lestrange brings ruin,not peace.Walk beside him,and one day you’ll bleed for it.”
The wind swept down from the northern cliffs,carrying frost across Savina’s fur-lined cloak.She shivered and pulled it tighter around her shoulders,letting out a soft,bitter laugh.
“You were right,”she murmured.“I was blind then.But now…now,I finally see.”
Her breath caught.Then she asked quietly,“You once told me,no matter what happens—if I ever need your help—I could call upon you.Does that vow still stand?”
Silence hung heavy across the bondstone that linked them.
With each passing heartbeat,her chest grew colder.She didn’t blame him.The fault was hers.
Taking a slow breath,she whispered,“Forgive me.I shouldn’t have asked.”
She was about to release the bond when Dike’s voice cut through the silence,deep and sharp.
“Savina,I let you go once before.But now that you’ve called me again—I won’t let you walk away a second time.”
His tone dropped to a growl.
“Break your bond with Myron.When the next moon wanes,I’ll come for you myself.”
He paused,his voice lower,colder.
“Remember this,Savina.If you become mine,I could only be widowed—never abandoned.”
Before she could reply,the bondstone flickered dark.
The night wind lashed her face.She gave a faint,broken laugh.
Years ago,Dike had been the youngest Alpha to ever rise from the trade packs—a prodigy of the Moon Market,feared by elders and courted by clans.
For three years,he had pursued her,his patience unwavering.
Her heart had nearly yielded…until Myron appeared.
Back then,she had been a rising strategist among the merchant wolves,her name whispered across the continent.When she found Myron—wounded,discarded,desperate—she had pitied him.
One act of mercy became another.Pity turned to care.Care turned to love.
By the time she realized what she’d done,she’d already cast Dike aside.
Now,under the pale light of the moon,she swore that by the end of this moon cycle,she would settle everything—once and for all.
When she returned to her den,the first thing she did was summon her kin from the neighboring clan.
“Find my cub,”she ordered.“Whatever it takes—trace him from the healers’caves to wherever Myron has hidden him.”
Then she climbed to her sleeping chamber and began to pack.
Every relic Myron had ever gifted her—necklaces,carved stones,scrolls of promise—she wrapped and placed into wooden boxes.
Each piece was listed through the traders’exchange,one by one,until all of it was spoken for.
Just as she was moving the last box toward the door,Myron entered.
His eyes narrowed the moment he saw the luggage.His tone dripped disdain.
“Running again?”he scoffed.“You’re no longer a young wolf,Savina.I’ve no time to soothe your tantrums.”
He crossed his arms,the arrogance of an Alpha in his posture.
“If you can endure this life,stay.If not,leave.But the cub remains with me.Don’t even think of taking him.”
He said it with complete certainty,as though he believed she no longer had claws to fight back.To him,she was no longer the sharp,fierce wolf who once ruled the Iron Markets—just his tamed mate in a gilded den.
Savina laughed softly,though her heart ached.
This was the male she had loved for seven years.
If love could rot so completely,could family do the same?Could a father truly discard his own blood without shame?
Her hands curled into fists.She raised her head,her voice trembling but strong.
“Myron,I’ll ask you once more—will you truly not save our cub?Will you let him remain in that healer’s cave,trapped between pain and death?”
Myron’s expression darkened.His tone was calm,but sharp enough to cut.
“Must you always imagine horrors,Savina?Helene told me the healers’cave is for his recovery.He’s safe there.”
His frown deepened,annoyance replacing reason.
“Tell me—are you truly worried for the cub,or are you just jealous of Helene and looking for another fight?”
The light in Savina’s eyes dimmed.Her heart froze solid.
Even now,he thought it was jealousy.
He truly didn’t know that Helene had deceived him.
Savina had already learned the truth—none of the cubs taken into that healer’s cave had ever returned alive.
Her lips parted,desperate to warn him.
“Myron,Helene lied to—”
A sudden sound from the hall cut her off.
Myron’s face changed instantly.Panic flickered through his eyes as he rushed out.
When Savina followed,she saw him kneeling beside Helene,his hands trembling as he wiped a droplet of blood from her lip.
She had bitten herself on a piece of fruit.That was all.
Yet Myron called for the house healer,his voice frantic.
He didn’t even notice Savina standing there—nor the blood dripping from her own hand.
Her chest felt as though it would burst.
Then his voice came again,colder this time.
“Helene just returned from the Northern Courts.She has nowhere to stay,so she’ll live here for now.”
Before Savina could speak,Helene lowered her gaze demurely.
“Myron,that’s unwise,”she said softly.“Savina dislikes me.I’d hate to make her uncomfortable.”
Before Savina could answer,Myron’s tone sliced through the air.
“This is my den.If she’s unhappy,she can leave.”
Savina froze.
This den—this home—had been hers.He had once told her he built it for them.
Helene smiled sweetly then,eyes glinting like sharpened glass.She pointed at the pendant hanging from Savina’s throat.
“That moonstone you’re wearing—it’s lovely.I want it.”
Before Savina could even speak,Myron turned toward her,his tone firm and final.
“Savina,”he commanded coldly,“take it off.Give it to Helene.”
第3章
When they first built the hold together,Savina stayed up night after night to aid Myron;the sleepless moons left her with a lingering ailment and a fragile body.
The pendant at her throat was a ward he had begged from the Moon Shrine—he had knelt three times upon cold stone,asking the Goddess for pardon,just to pray for her safety.He’d said it would keep her from harm.
But now,the one Myron wished to shelter was Helene,and Savina no longer wanted the charm.
Generously,she unclasped the safety talisman from her own neck and placed it in Helene’s palm.
Myron’s face tightened.He knew Savina despised Helene,and that pendant had rested over Savina’s heart for seven years;she had never once removed it.He had expected her to refuse.He had not expected her to yield so easily.
That loss of control unsettled him.He frowned,voice turning sharp.“You always said that pendant was the most precious thing you had.Why give it away so easily this time?”
Savina lifted her head and met his gaze,calm as still water.She returned his question with one of her own.“Wasn’t it you who told me to give it to her?Am I making you unhappy by obeying?”
Her cool teasing stole the words from Myron’s mouth.He had no reply.
After handing the pendant over,Savina turned and left.
All day,she kept herself relentlessly busy,never pausing.
Myron convinced himself her generosity was a show;he believed she would come seeking him within half a day.But when evening fell,she had not approached him once.Instead,she had servants summon him to the meal hall.
Savina had prepared three dishes and a broth—simple,measured,the kind of quiet household grace a stranger might practice.She was already seated when Helene arrived.
“Eat,”Savina said,coldly.
Upon the table were the kinds of foods Dike favored—fire-pepper stews and seared meats.
Savina was leaving at moon’s end;now was the perfect time to practice.
Myron,blind to that intent,only supposed she had cooked to please him.The thought eased his unsettled heart.
Helene sat.Myron kept filling her bowl,even tearing meat for her with his own hands.
Savina’s arm tensed—once,he had often done that for her,but now,he no longer did.
After a few bites,the spice made Myron’s brow furrow.“You know my stomach is delicate.I don’t like fiery dishes.Why make so many tonight?”
Savina glanced at him.Dike liked spice;these plates were meant for practice,not for Myron.
Myron was eating them only because Savina refused to waste food.The explanation rose to her lips,but Helene spoke first.
“Myron,don’t blame her,”Helene murmured.“After all,you two aren’t childhood wolves.How would she know every like and dislike?Don’t worry;I’ll make other dishes for you.”With that,she tugged him toward the hearth.
She chopped;Myron hovered,fearful she might nick a finger,so he took the knife.She guided from behind while he stirred the iron pan,afraid hot oil might kiss her skin.
Savina watched,a little dazed.Once,she had imagined being at the hearth like that with Myron—cooking together—but he had always said he had no time.
Now she understood:it wasn’t that he had no time;it was that the wolf had changed.
Savina rose to leave,unwilling to remain,but when she turned,the dishes were already carried out.Myron’s voice cracked like a whip.
“Stop.Our guest just finished cooking.What do you mean by rising and pulling a face?Sit.”
Savina clenched her fists,ready to refuse.Helene leaned close and breathed a threat into her ear,soft and venomous.
“If you don’t behave,I’ll have people hurt your cub.”
Savina’s eyes went shockingly red in an instant.For her child,she sat back down.
Across from Myron and Helene,she watched them—his attentive hands,the way he fed her again and again—and felt a sharp ache spear her chest.
Myron kept spooning food into Helene’s bowl;Helene said,deliberately loud,“Savina,you’re not eating.Do you dislike my cooking?Myron told me you aren’t picky.Could it be that…you simply don’t like me?”
Myron’s gaze hardened.“Savina,Helene made these with her own hands.Don’t be ungrateful.”
Savina looked over the table and laughed,brittle and low.She was allergic to most of these foods.Apparently,even Myron had forgotten.
When she still didn’t move,he slammed his bone spoon against the table.
She lifted her eyes to his.“I can eat,”she said quietly.“But in exchange,let me see my son.”
At first,he meant to refuse;Helene had told him the healer’s cave forbade outsiders.
But when he met Savina’s eyes,he could not push the denial past his tongue.At last he said,“Fine.I agree.”
Savina picked at the dishes and forced them down.Not long after,a rash bloomed across her skin—angry and red.
Had Myron cared for her even a little,he would have noticed the change in her breath,the heat in her cheeks.But his attention never left Helene.
So stark,the difference between being loved and not.
That night,Savina’s reaction worsened.She went to find an anti-rash draught.When she reached the stairway,Helene stood there already,arms full of small vials.
As Savina approached,Helene sneered.“You.I don’t like you.Myron is mine,yet you bore his cub.”
“You,or that cub?You both deserve to die.”With that,Helene pulled the corks and poured every vial into the waste basin,flushing them away with a pitcher of water.
Savina’s hand twitched,ready to teach her a lesson—but the image of her son,bound to a healer’s pallet,held her in place.She turned to leave.
Helene wasn’t finished.She stepped in front of Savina and flung a stack of illusion-slates at her—images of Alonzo being abused.
In the visions,the boy’s limbs were bound;treatments showed healers driving needles and bone awls again and again into tender flesh.
Blood glistened—Savina’s vision filmed scarlet.
Something inside her snapped.She seized Helene’s throat with both hands and hissed,“Bitch!Lay a finger on my cub and I’ll tear out your throat!”
Before she could squeeze,Myron lunged,shoving Savina away,then struck her hard across the face.“Savina,you’re hurting Helene again!”
The blow stunned her;her head rang.In all these years,he had never hit her—until now.
He didn’t spare a glance for the torn skin along her arms;all his concern fastened on Helene.He swept the woman into his embrace and murmured,“Helene,I’m sorry you suffered this.I’ll take you away.”
Passing by Savina,he shoved her aside.She crashed into a side table;her shoulder struck wood,and her arm refused to lift.
Myron did not offer a single word.He turned and left.
When she tried to move the injured arm,pain speared to the bone.
The servants,unable to bear it,stepped forward.“My lady,you’re badly hurt.Shall we summon the healer?”
She managed a bitter smile.“No need.I don’t require one.”
She forced herself upright and crawled back to her chamber.The first thing she did was press her palm to the bondstone.
“Dike,”she said,voice tight,“I know you have wolves in this land.Help me shorten the purification—I want the severing in seven days.”
第4章
Dike gave a short,quiet order to his scouts,and before the sun had crossed the ridge,everything was arranged.
Seven days later,Savina was finally free.
Her soul-bond with Myron Lestrange was broken by the decree of the Moon Council.
That night,pain devoured her—sharp,raw,and unending.
She didn’t seek the healers’herbs,nor did she drink the draught of numbness.
She wanted to remember this agony,carve it into her bones—the price of loving the wrong wolf.
She drifted in and out of restless dreams until the next dawn,when an enraged voice tore through the den.
Myron had come to confront her.
“Savina!”he roared.“You’re the one who denounced Helene before the Healers’Circle,aren’t you?She’s been suspended because of it.Are you pleased with yourself now?”
Her head pounded,her body hot with fever.Dazed,she forced out,“It wasn’t me.”
He let out a cold laugh.“Still lying?Pathetic.I’m sick of you.”
Before she could defend herself,Helene entered—delicate and pitiful as ever.
“Myron,let it go,”she said softly.“She just thinks I stole you.It’s my fault.”
Her false meekness only deepened his pity for her—and his disgust toward Savina.
“If you’ve done wrong,you’ll pay for it,”he said coldly.“No exceptions.”
Savina stared at him,unblinking.
Seven years together—and not once had he truly believed her.
Helene leaned into his arms,her eyes gleaming with victory.
“Myron,”she murmured sweetly,“there is one way I might regain my healer’s rank.The Circle is testing a new herb mixture—dragonbane and moonroot—but they need a wolf to endure its venom.If Savina’s willing,she’d be perfect.”
Savina’s face went pale.
Before she could speak,Myron answered for her.
“Fine.Send her.”
Savina snapped,voice cracking.“Myron,are you mad?Dragonbane is poison!You’d risk my life for her?”
Helene raised a brow,smiling faintly.“Such harsh words.Poison can also heal.You’d be helping the pack.What a noble deed.”
Savina seized a cushion from the seat and hurled it at them.“If it’s so noble,then you drink it!”
Helene burst into tears,trembling like a wronged maiden.
Myron’s eyes turned to stone.He called the guards.
“Take her to the alchemy caves.She will not leave until the trials are complete.”
Then,coldly:“This is what you owe Helene.”
As he turned away,something in Savina cracked.
How cruel could one wolf be?
Within the alchemy caves,she fought.She refused to drink their brews.
Each escape ended the same—dragged back,shackled in silver,wrists and ankles bound like a beast.
When she resisted,they shocked her with storm-rods until her body convulsed.
The healers there were no healers—they were monsters.
On the first day,they injected moonbane into her veins and watched her writhe,taking notes as if she were no more than a creature to dissect.
On the second,they flooded her body with new concoctions to test her endurance.
By the third day,her mind was unraveling.Then she saw Myron enter.
She called his name,desperate,reaching for him.
He looked down at her,expression cold.
“If she can’t survive this,”he said,“then it’s her fate.”
Those words extinguished the last flicker of her soul.
She stopped begging.
By the fifth day—the day she was meant to be freed—Savina appeared whole,but inside,her body was ruined.
As she was leaving,she overheard two alchemists whispering.
“Lord Lestrange’s cub won’t last much longer.Should we call the healers?”
“Of course not,”the other replied.“If we do,all this will be exposed.It’s one life.If he dies,he dies.”
Savina froze.
Her claws dug into her palms until they bled.
Alonzo…
She searched through every tunnel until she found him—small,still,his arms mottled with bruises from countless injections.
Biting back tears,she gathered him in her arms and ran.
Through the forest paths she fled,her breath breaking,clutching her cub to her chest.But when she reached the stone bridge leading to the healers’valley,a barricade blocked her path.
“Please,”she begged the guards,“let us through!My son is dying!”
One of them lowered his head.“Forgive me,my lady.This road is sealed.Lord Lestrange has claimed it for Miss Helene’s Moon-Day celebration.No one may pass.”
Her heart stopped.
The cub’s breaths were shallow,fading.
“Mother…”he whispered,voice soft as air.“Am I dying?Hold me again…”
Savina broke.“No,my baby,please—just a little longer.I’ll get you help.Please don’t leave me…”
She clutched him tightly,but his body grew cold in her arms.
He looked toward the sky,where fireworks of enchanted flame bloomed across the dark.
“Mother…the lights are so pretty.But I won’t see them again.”
His lips trembled.“I’m cold.Hold me tighter…”
Savina screamed,sobbing until her voice was nothing but hoarse air.
“My baby—please,please don’t sleep—don’t leave me,you’re all I have…”
But the small body in her arms went still.
At that very moment,as the night sky burst with the golden fire of Myron’s celebration for Helene,their cub drew his last breath.
Savina raised her tear-streaked face to the shining heavens,and her sorrow burned into hatred.
Her son was gone.
And she would never forgive Myron—or Helene.
第5章
Savina’s cub was dead.
And soon after clutching his lifeless body,she herself fell into darkness.
When she finally woke,the first thing she did was travel to the Pack Archive Hall to remove her son’s name from the blood-registry.
The scribe,an old wolf with kind eyes,spoke gently:
“And the sire of the cub?”
Savina’s gaze was cold,her voice sharp.
“He doesn’t have one.”
A wolf like Myron no longer deserved the title of father.
The scribe hesitated,then said nothing more.With a quiet stroke of his blade,he split the boy’s moon-token in half and handed both pieces back to her.
When the act was done,Savina went straight to the Spirit Pyre to cremate her child’s remains.
By dusk,she returned to her den carrying the small bone urn in her arms.
The moment she crossed the threshold,Myron’s furious roar lashed out like a whip.
“Savina!You were supposed to be resting from the trials!What are you doing running about?”
A bitter laugh escaped her lips.
Their cub was gone,yet all he saw was her“running about.”
Too exhausted to argue,she clutched the urn tighter and walked past him.
Something in her hollow eyes made his chest twist in irritation more than pity.
“What are you doing carrying that cursed vessel?”he snarled.“Throw it out.Now.”
He reached for it,but in that instant,Savina’s aura flared—a crimson blaze of fury.
“If you dare touch this urn,”she hissed,her voice trembling with rage,“I swear by the Moon,Myron—I’ll fight you to the death!”
He froze.The feral look in her eyes unsettled even him.
After a long pause,he lowered his arm.
Forget it,he thought.She’s still angry about the alchemy trials.She’ll calm down in a few days.
Straightening,he said evenly,“You did well in the trials.Helene has been reinstated by the Healers’Circle—promoted to Chief Alchemist,in fact.All thanks to your…contribution.”
He continued,oblivious to the tightening of her grip around the urn.
“I’m hosting a feast for her tomorrow night at the manor.You’re still lady of this house—see that it’s prepared.”
From beginning to end,Savina said nothing.
Myron frowned slightly.“Alright,I understand.You’re upset.That’s fine—it’s even endearing once in a while.But keep that face too long,and it’ll turn ugly.”
Then,in a tone meant to appease her,he added,“After Helene’s promotion feast,we’ll go and fetch our cub together,alright?”
His words stabbed into her like knives.
Fetch him?
Alonzo could never be fetched again.
He had died the very night his father chose to protect another.
Savina bit down her grief,forcing a steady voice.
“Alright.I’ll make sure everything is ready.”
Hearing her calm agreement,Myron exhaled in relief.
She’s still the same as before,he thought.
Moments after he left,a raven-stone glowed faintly on her desk.The rune flared—the signal from Dike.A pouch of moon-coins worth two million had been transferred into her vault.
Savina lifted the stone and spoke calmly into the rune mirror.
“I wish to hold the grandest moon-funeral in the Northern Territories.At dawn tomorrow.
I want a hundred mourning carriages to circle the Lestrange manor a hundred times.”
Her voice dropped to a chilling whisper.
“Let the entire Silver Plains know—the Lestranges aren’t hosting a feast tomorrow.They’re holding a funeral.”
“And prepare the brightest skyfire runes you can.At midnight,I want the words A Life for a Life blazing across the heavens.”
When she ended the transmission,a cold smile curved her lips.
Her son was dead.
And Myron and Helene would never again know peace.
That afternoon,Savina returned home with the urn still in her arms.
She then summoned her informants and purchased—through false names—the entire alchemy cave where she had been imprisoned.
By twilight,she had recovered every crystal orb,every recording stone that contained the horrors she and her son had endured.
All the evidence—every ounce of it—now belonged to her.
She placed the death certificate carved on bone,the memory orbs,and all of Helene’s crimes into an iron chest.
Across its lid,she carved a single message:
Myron—from this life onward,we shall never meet again.
At midnight,a dark carriage waited outside the manor.
Savina picked up her son’s urn,took her pack of belongings,and walked out of the Lestrange estate for the final time.
The moon was high,pale,and cold.
The gates closed behind her with a heavy clang.
From that night on,Savina swore—she would never set foot in that cursed den again.
第6章
The night air shimmered with silver torchlight, casting wavering patterns along the carved stone walls of the Lestrange Stronghold. Banners bearing the crest of the crescent wolf fluttered above the great hall, while drums echoed across the valley—steady, rhythmic, like the pulse of the pack itself.
It was meant to be a night of celebration.
Helene’s Moon-Day—the day she officially ascended as Chief Healer of the Circle—had drawn every noble wolf, every merchant lord, and every envoy from the allied clans. Tables groaned beneath roasted stag and honeyed mead. The scent of spice and smoke mingled with fur and perfume. Laughter rose high, mingled with the clinking of goblets.
Yet for all the splendor, Alpha Myron Lestrange could not feel at ease.
Something was wrong.
He sat beside Helene at the high table, surrounded by elders and advisors, yet his gaze kept drifting beyond the crowd—past the dancers, past the glittering chandeliers—toward the open archway that led into the night. He searched for one face that was nowhere to be found.
Savina.
Her absence hung like frost in his chest. She should have been there, radiant in her Luna’s silver mantle, greeting guests at his side. Instead, her seat remained empty, untouched.
“Myron,” Helene’s voice purred beside him, soft and honeyed. She slipped her arm through his, tilting her head with practiced sweetness. “You’re distracted. Are you looking for Savina again? Has she started brooding?”
The name scraped against his temper. He frowned, irritation flickering behind his dark eyes. That did sound like Savina—stubborn, prideful, impossible to please.
His expression hardened, his tone edged with contempt.
“What right does she have to brood? If she wants to sulk, let her. The world doesn’t stop turning for her moods.”
Helene laughed softly—a low, melodious sound that seemed to soothe the surrounding tension. She tugged at his sleeve, her golden hair brushing against his arm.
“Don’t waste your night on her. Come, everyone’s waiting for you. It’s your presence they honor, not hers.”
Obliging, Myron rose. Together they reentered the great hall, where hundreds of eyes turned toward them with reverence. The Alpha of the Lestrange bloodline—strong, unshakable—and the radiant healer newly elevated to power. Myron greeted each clan elder, his hand steady as steel, securing alliances and favors with each handshake, each diplomatic smile.
But the unease never left him.
The moon hung full and heavy above, and somewhere beneath its glow, a whisper gnawed at him—a pull he refused to acknowledge.
Then an elder at the head table raised a goblet, his laughter booming.
“Lord Lestrange! Are you planning to replace your Luna already? A Moon-Day feast and a healer’s promotion—it all feels rather domestic, doesn’t it?”
The jest rippled through the room like wildfire. Laughter followed—sharp, gleeful, mocking.
Helene flushed, lowering her gaze in feigned shyness. Her fingers brushed against Myron’s, waiting, silently urging him to respond—to make their closeness official in front of everyone.
Myron opened his mouth—
—and a sound cut through the night.
A deep, resonant howl that did not belong to wolf or wind, but to something older. It rolled down from the valley cliffs, long and hollow, making the very walls of the fortress tremble.
The laughter died instantly.
Then came the second sound—booming, rhythmic, amplified by the horn-stones of the funeral guild.
“Lord Lestrange! We are here to hold a burial for your kin!”
Every wolf in the hall froze.
Outside, the courtyard blazed with motion. Over a hundred mourning wagons had arrived—black, grim, drawn by skeletal steeds whose eyes glowed faintly blue. Cloaked figures marched beside them, draped in gray garments of grief. Funeral horns wailed low and sorrowful, echoing across the mountain like the cry of the dead.
The wind carried the scent of incense and ash.
Myron’s heart dropped. His face went pale, rigid as stone. He pushed through the crowd and stormed down the steps, the guests following in stunned silence.
“Who ordered this?” he roared, his voice splitting the night. “Who dares bring such omens to my gates?!”
The leader of the mourners—a weary old wolf with white hair and trembling hands—stepped forward, bowing deeply. “My lord, we were summoned by Lady Savina Lestrange. She instructed us to arrive this night and hold the burial for your child. Where shall we lay the ashes?”
The words struck like thunder.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. The nobles exchanged glances, murmurs rising like static.
Indeed—there had been no sight of the young Alonzo for days. Nor of his mother.
Myron stood frozen. For a moment, he heard nothing but the pounding of his pulse.
Then Helene stepped forward, fury blazing in her eyes. “Lies!” she spat. “Lord Myron’s cub is under my care, receiving the best healing in the Circle. You insolent fools—this is blasphemy!”
She turned to Myron, her voice trembling, softening into hurt. “Myron, I told you—this is Savina’s doing. She’s jealous, jealous that you treat me kindly. She’s trying to shame us on my Moon-Day.”
Her hands reached for his arm. “You know I would never harm your son. Don’t you believe me?”
For a heartbeat, uncertainty flickered in Myron’s gaze—then vanished.
“Of course I believe you,” he said flatly.
He turned toward the mourners, his voice like ice. “There is no funeral here. Leave this ground before I burn your wagons to ash.”
But the old wolf only bowed lower, shaking his head. “Forgive us, my lord, but Lady Savina paid in blood-oath. We must fulfill her command. She ordered us to circle your hold one hundred times—no more, no less.”
And with that, the mourning procession moved again.
The horns bellowed, deeper, louder, until the sound swallowed the valley itself.
Inside the hall, the walls quaked with it. Wine spilled. Goblets shattered.
Helene’s composure broke. Tears streaked her face, anger twisting her beauty.
“Myron!” she cried. “This was supposed to be my night! Look at this disgrace! When word spreads, the whole Circle will laugh at me!”
She turned to flee, but Myron caught her arm, pulling her close. “Don’t be upset,” he murmured, voice strained. “I’ll handle it.”
From the back, one of the elders called out, “Alpha, if this is truly Lady Savina’s command—then summon her! End this madness!”
“Yes,” another added. “Call her through the bond. If this is a misunderstanding, clear it now!”
Myron hesitated, his throat tight. Slowly, he reached inside his cloak and withdrew the bondstone—the crystal that once linked his spirit to hers.
Its faint pulse still carried the echo of her aura.
He stared at it for a long, silent moment—then pressed his thumb to the rune and called her across the spirit link.
The bondstone flared faintly in his hand, the rune glowing with pale moonlight. A whisper, distant yet familiar, brushed against Myron’s mind—Savina’s scent, her heartbeat, her voice echoing from somewhere far beyond reach.
But when he reached deeper, the connection shuddered… and shattered.
She had severed it!