Đang tải thông tin quảng bá...
The Luna Who Walked Away
NovelShort
Hoàn thành
I used to be the Luna of the Blackthorn Pack. Now? I’m just the ghost in the Alpha’s house. I gave up my lineage—my title as heir to the Silvermoon bloodline—for love. I thought Kael Blackth...
Chương (4)
第1章
I was supposed to be the ghost of the pack—the shape that moved through corridors but left no scent, the woman no one noticed until the dishes were clean and the fires burned low.
Once, I ruled these halls beside him. Now, I was the echo that polished their silver.
I never asked for thrones or gold. I only asked for one promise.
“To see the world beneath the full moon. Together.”
That was what Kael whispered the night he marked me. We were barely out of youth then, our bodies trembling with devotion and power. “When I become Alpha, we’ll run across every border,” he said. “No wars, no ranks—just us beneath the stars.”
That was before ambition hollowed him out.
Before the crown of the Blackthorn Pack bent his back and sharpened his tongue.
Tonight is my thirty-eighth lunar birthday, though no one in the stronghold remembers. The wolves feast anyway—just not for me. The dining hall hums with laughter, the long table drowning in roasted boar and sweet mead. Kael sits at the head, his blade gleaming beside his plate, a symbol of dominance even when he eats.
I watch him from the end of the table, unnoticed, invisible, the supposed Luna whose name hasn’t been spoken aloud in months.
The scent of wine mixes with the musk of wolves. The warriors boast about hunts; the younger females whisper about Selene—the beautiful widow who has become Kael’s constant shadow. They speak her name like a prayer.
When the noise dulls, I gather the courage to speak. My voice is soft, yet it seems to slice through the air.
“Do you remember,” I ask, “what you told me when you first marked me?”
Kael doesn’t lift his gaze. “Which part?”
“That we’d see the world together. You said once the wars ended and the pups were grown, we’d run beneath foreign moons. Just us.”
He chuckles—low, derisive. “You think you deserve to see the world? Look at you, Aria. You’ve forgotten what a Luna even looks like.” His eyes flick to me at last, and there’s nothing human left in them, only the cold pride of an Alpha who believes mercy is weakness.
“Your pack calls you the ghost-wife,” he adds. “And for once, they might be right.”
Across the table, our twin sons, Liran and Nash, exchange grins. Liran leans back in his chair, tapping his goblet against his brother’s. “Mother, maybe you should stay in the den next full moon,” he says. “You’d probably frighten the humans if they saw you.”
Nash smirks. “She already frightens the omegas. They say she smells like sage and dust.”
Their laughter crashes over me like a wave of acid. I wait for Kael to silence them, to remind them that I am still their mother. He doesn’t. He pours more wine.
“Let them speak,” he says. “Truth builds strength.”
I press my palms against my lap so tightly my nails bite the skin. “I gave you everything,” I whisper.
Kael’s mouth curves. “You gave me obedience. That’s what a Luna’s for.”
The hall bursts again with laughter and the metallic clang of goblets. I sit there until the last torch gutters out and shadows swallow the room.
When I finally stand, my chair scrapes softly against the stone. I leave the scent of humiliation behind me and climb the spiral stairs to the chamber that used to feel like home.
Inside, the air is cold, smelling faintly of iron and ash. The bed is vast but empty. I open the trunk at its foot. Beneath old cloaks and linens lies a small leather satchel. Within it rest the remnants of who I used to be: a silver crest bearing a crescent wolf—the sigil of the Silvermoon Clan—and a folded map smudged from years of handling. My father’s handwriting still marks its borders: Our lands. Our blood.
I trace the crest with my thumb. The metal is cool, pulsing faintly with ancestral magic.
Once, I was Aria Silvermoon, heir to the oldest Alpha bloodline in the North. My howl could have commanded storms. My name alone could still a battlefield. But I turned my back on that power for love—abandoning my pack, my birthright, my future—to follow Kael Blackthorn.
I remember the night I chose him. He was bold then, reckless and golden, the kind of wolf who could make the moon blush. My father warned me: Love that burns too fast turns to ash.
I didn’t listen.
Now I am the ash.
A floorboard creaks beyond the door. Instinct tightens my muscles, but it’s only Liran. His scent—oak smoke and arrogance—slips through the crack.
“Father says you shouldn’t sulk,” he calls. “Selene’s hosting another banquet tomorrow. Maybe try not to look so dead; people might start rumors.”
He laughs and pads away before I can answer.
When the silence settles again, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. My reflection in the mirror startles me: pale skin, hollow eyes, hair streaked with gray that glints like frost under candlelight.
I barely recognize the she-wolf staring back.
“Enough,” I tell her.
I fasten the Silvermoon crest around my throat. Its weight steadies me. Somewhere deep inside, a spark flickers—the echo of the girl who once defied an empire for love.
I blow out the candles one by one, each extinguished flame a vow.
Downstairs, Kael’s voice rumbles faintly through the stone—discussing border patrols, new trade pacts, Selene’s next council appearance. My name isn’t mentioned. It hasn’t been in seasons.
I sit on the edge of the bed, hands folded in my lap. For a long time, I listen to the wind scraping against the shutters, the sound of wolves howling in the distance. Their cries used to thrill me. Now they sound like grief given shape.
The pack once believed I brought them calm, that my bloodline’s old magic steadied the tempers of warriors. Maybe that was true. Maybe I was the peace before the storm—and they mistook peace for weakness.
A faint glimmer catches my eye. The moonlight spills across the floor, illuminating a set of claw marks etched into the wall near the doorframe. I remember making them years ago during childbirth, gripping the stone as labor tore through me. Life and pain carved into one mark. Proof that I existed.
I rise, tracing the grooves with my fingers. “Never again,” I whisper.
Not again will I bleed quietly for those who feed on my silence.
Somewhere outside, a wolf howls—the long, low call of the Silvermoon Clan. My people. My blood. It’s faint, but my bones answer before my mind can stop them. A tremor ripples through my chest; my own wolf stirs, restless after years of forced stillness.
“Home,” she growls inside me, voice rough with longing.
“Soon,” I promise.
The promise tastes like iron.
I turn back to the trunk, pack the essentials: a cloak, the map, a small dagger, a pouch of coins I’ve hidden for years in the lining of Kael’s ceremonial robes. When I straighten, dawn is already staining the sky a bruised blue.
I pause at the doorway, glancing once at the bed where we used to sleep, where dreams curdled into duty. The scent of Kael still lingers—cedar and dominance, a perfume of control.
“I used to love you,” I whisper. The words fall flat against the cold stone. “But I won’t die here for you.”
Outside, the first rays of light touch the ramparts, turning frost into silver. Wolves are changing shifts on the guard towers, their armor clinking softly. They don’t notice the shadow that slips through the garden gate, hood drawn low, crest hidden beneath her cloak.
I walk through the inner courtyard where our children learned to shift, where Kael once lifted me in triumph after battles. Every memory stings, but each step forward dulls the ache.
When I reach the edge of the territory, the protective wards hum—a veil of energy woven from Kael’s blood. The pulse recognizes his mark still faintly branded on my neck. It wavers, then parts, letting me through.
The wind beyond smells different—clean, wild, unclaimed.
For a moment, I hesitate. Leaving means severing everything: mate bond, title, history. But staying means dying slowly in silence.
I choose motion.
I pull back my hood and face the horizon. The mountains of the Silvermoon lands rise in the distance, veiled in morning mist. Somewhere beyond them waits the father who cast me out, the clan I abandoned, the life I forfeited.
I inhale deeply, tasting the promise of frost and freedom.
Then I step across the border, and the hum of Kael’s ward dies behind me like a closing door.
Each stride after that feels lighter, the ghost shedding her chains. The forest swallows me whole, pine needles crunching beneath my boots. My wolf hums again, stronger now.
Run, she urges.
And I do.
By the time the sun breaks fully, the Blackthorn fortress is nothing but a dark smudge behind me. My lungs burn, my heart hammers, but I keep running until the scent of my old pack’s territory floods my senses—ash, snow, and moonlight.
Only then do I slow.
A ridge rises ahead, marked by the carved stones of the Silvermoon border. Two sentries stand guard, their silver armor gleaming. They tense as I approach, spears raised, nostrils flaring.
Their eyes widen when they recognize my scent.
“Aria Silvermoon?” one whispers.
I nod once. “Tell him,” I say, voice steady despite the tremor in my chest. “Tell the Alpha his daughter has come home.”
The wind catches my cloak, lifting it like wings as the first howls of welcome echo across the valley.
And for the first time in decades, I don’t feel like a ghost at all.
第2章
The morning after I left the great hall, the packhouse hummed with a strange energy. Whispers rushed through corridors like wind through cracks—excited, secretive, cruel. Wolves dressed in their finest silks, warriors polished their armor, servants scrubbed the marble until it gleamed like ice.
No one told me why.
No one ever did.
I stood at the window of my chamber, watching the courtyard fill with movement. The flag of the Blackthorn Pack had been raised higher than usual, its silver wolf crest shimmering in the pale sun. Even from here, I could smell roasted meat, new wine, the faint perfume of celebration.
“Are we expecting guests?” I asked one of the maids when she entered to fetch my empty tray.
She froze mid-step, eyes darting everywhere but at me. “I—uh—the Alpha said not to disturb you, Luna.”
I hated that word now. Luna. It used to mean power. Now it meant “shadow.”
“What celebration?” I pressed.
“I’m sorry, my lady.” She bowed and fled before I could ask again.
I stared after her, unease curdling in my stomach.
By midday, the packhouse was almost empty. The laughter that once echoed in its halls had migrated beyond the northern ridge, toward the Moonstone Courtyard—where every sacred ceremony was held.
My wolf stirred restlessly under my skin. Something’s wrong, she whispered.
I ignored her. I didn’t want to believe what I already suspected.
It wasn’t until the door burst open that I heard the truth from the last person I expected—my son.
Nash swaggered in, already dressed in ceremonial robes of dark blue lined with silver thread. His hair was slicked back, his fangs glinting when he grinned. “You’re not even getting ready?” he asked, tone mocking.
“For what?” I said carefully.
He tilted his head, pretending to think. “Oh, that’s right. You weren’t invited.”
My heart sank. “Invited… to what?”
“The Moon Banquet.” His grin widened. “Selene’s hosting it tonight. The whole pack’s going. The council. The elders. Even the priest of the Lunar Creed.”
The name hit like a blade. “Selene?”
He shrugged. “Father says it’s time. The Bloodmoon ceremony will make it official.”
My throat tightened. “Official?”
He looked almost delighted at my confusion. “She’s going to be marked tonight, Mother. The whole pack will witness it. Father’s giving Selene the Luna mark.”
For a second, I forgot how to breathe. The air around me warped, the world narrowing to the shape of my son’s cruel smile.
“But I’m his Luna,” I whispered.
“Were,” Nash said. “You were his Luna.”
He left laughing, leaving the door wide open behind him.
The silence that followed roared louder than thunder.
I sank onto the edge of the bed, the world spinning. For years I’d endured mockery, coldness, isolation—but deep down, I’d believed Kael would never publicly betray me. That whatever cruelty he held in private, he would at least preserve the illusion of respect.
I was wrong.
Outside, bells began to toll—the signal that the Moon Banquet had begun. Wolves howled in unison, a low, rhythmic chant that carried through every link of the pack bond. My connection to them pulsed faintly at the edge of my consciousness, and against my better judgment, I reached out through the link.
The sounds flooded in all at once—music, voices, laughter. I could see it as if I stood among them.
The Moonstone Courtyard was lit with hundreds of torches. Wolves filled the great circle, dressed in ceremonial white, their furs glowing under the light of the rising moon.
And at the center stood Kael.
He was magnificent in silver armor, the Alpha crest blazing across his chest. His head was bowed slightly toward the woman beside him—Selene. She wore a gown the color of midnight, its hem trailing behind her like smoke.
The crowd chanted their names together, voices rising in perfect unison: “Alpha Kael. Luna Selene.”
I gripped the window frame so tightly my knuckles cracked.
A voice from the crowd—a priest’s—began the binding rite. “Under the gaze of the Moon Goddess, Alpha Kael Blackthorn acknowledges his true mate, chosen not by destiny but by will and blood.”
The words twisted like knives.
Chosen not by destiny but by will and blood.
That meant it wasn’t the goddess’s doing. It was his choice.
He had chosen her.
When the priest lifted the sacred bowl of moonwater, Kael took Selene’s hand. She looked radiant, triumphant. Her golden hair caught the firelight, her lips curved in a soft, practiced smile that once belonged to me.
He dipped his fingers into the water and pressed a crescent of silver light against her wrist. The symbol shimmered—his Alpha mark, glowing with dominance.
The crowd erupted in cheers.
My bond—my invisible thread to him—snapped.
It wasn’t a clean break. It tore through me like claws through flesh. My knees buckled; I clutched the windowsill, gasping. Every nerve screamed. My mark—the faint crescent burned onto my neck decades ago—seared with sudden fire, then went cold.
He had severed it.
He had erased me.
My wolf whimpered deep inside, a wounded sound that echoed through my bones. He broke the bond, she said, disbelief shaking her voice.
“Yes,” I whispered. “He did.”
Tears blurred my vision, but I refused to let them fall.
Through the link, the crowd’s laughter swelled. I could still hear Kael’s voice as he lifted Selene’s hand and declared, “Before the Goddess and all my kin, I claim Selene as my Luna. The Blackthorn Pack recognizes no other.”
The wolves howled, the sky split with their devotion.
I turned away from the window. My legs moved on their own, carrying me across the room to the small table where I kept my keepsakes. On it sat the scrying orb—a relic my mother gave me long ago. It shimmered faintly when I poured a trickle of energy into it, the surface blooming with light until it revealed the courtyard in sharper detail.
There they were.
Kael and Selene, hand in hand, surrounded by the pack I’d served for half my life. My sons stood beside them, smiling proudly, their loyalty shifting as easily as the wind.
Selene leaned toward Kael, whispered something that made him laugh. I didn’t need to hear the words. I knew the tone. I’d heard it from my own mouth once—back when I believed I was loved.
The orb flickered, showing the moment Kael kissed her hand, sealing the ceremony. The crowd roared again.
That was the end of Aria Silvermoon, the Luna who once held the Alpha’s heart.
I reached for the orb, and for one reckless heartbeat, I wanted to shatter it—to end the vision, the pain, everything. But I didn’t. Instead, I set it down carefully, wiped the moisture from my cheeks, and forced myself to breathe.
The room felt smaller now, the walls pressing in. Every trace of my life here—my robes, my books, the small garden I tended by the balcony—seemed to mock me.
I crossed to the wardrobe and pulled out a plain traveling cloak. My hands no longer trembled. They were steady, sure. The decision had already been made; I was only now following through.
I gathered what little remained of my strength and went to the hearth. Above it hung Kael’s old dagger, a ceremonial weapon he had forged when he first became Alpha. I took it down. Its weight felt right in my hand, cold but familiar.
“I loved you,” I murmured. “But love shouldn’t mean worship.”
The flames reflected off the blade as I slid it into my belt.
Outside, the moon had reached its zenith—full, blinding, indifferent. The very goddess who once blessed our union now watched as it burned to ash.
I stepped out onto the balcony, letting the night wind whip through my hair. From here, I could see the faint glow of the Moonstone Courtyard in the distance. I thought of all the years I had wasted waiting for Kael to look at me the way he looked at her tonight.
No more.
If I stayed, I would die by inches—forgotten, humiliated, erased.
If I left, I could live. Maybe even fight.
Somewhere beyond those mountains lay the Silvermoon Keep—my father’s domain, the place I had fled to marry Kael. I didn’t know if he’d forgive me. I didn’t know if I deserved it. But I knew I would rather face his wrath than endure another dawn in this place.
The decision felt like breathing after drowning.
I turned my back to the glittering lights of the Blackthorn Courtyard. My heart was raw, but something new coiled in its center—a spark, small but alive.
Tomorrow, before the sun rose again, I would be gone.
Let Kael have his new Luna, his celebration, his power.
I had nothing left to lose.
And sometimes, that was where real power began.
第3章
The packhouse slept while the moon kept watch.
Outside, the torches guttered low, their flames shrinking against the chill wind that swept across the Blackthorn courtyard. Laughter from the Moon Banquet had long since faded. Only the smell of wine and burned offerings lingered in the air — the scent of celebration, and of endings.
I stood in the doorway of my chamber, cloak drawn around me. The echo of the severed bond still pulsed faintly under my skin, a phantom heartbeat that no longer belonged to anyone. The mark on my neck had dulled to a pale scar.
Kael’s scent was gone from the room. So was his presence, his shadow, his warmth — all replaced by an emptiness so wide it almost felt peaceful.
There was nothing left for me here.
I crossed to the hearth. The last embers glowed faintly, bathing the stone walls in dim orange light. Above it hung a single painting — a portrait Kael had commissioned when we first became Alpha and Luna. Two wolves in silver light, touching noses, their reflections merging into one shape. I reached up, lifted it from its hook, and turned it face-down on the mantle.
That part of me was dead.
On the bed lay the pack I’d prepared the night before: a small leather satchel, a rolled map, the Silvermoon crest that had once marked my lineage. The dagger I’d taken from Kael’s hearth was strapped against my thigh, its cold weight both comfort and warning.
My wolf prowled restlessly beneath my skin. Are we doing this? she asked.
“Yes.”
No turning back?
“There’s nothing left to turn back to.”
The corridors were empty as I stepped into them. The only sounds were the crackle of dying torches and the soft rustle of my cloak. The grand hall was strewn with remnants of the feast — overturned goblets, half-eaten meat, petals from Selene’s garland scattered like old prayers. The smell of them — roses and blood — made my stomach twist.
I walked slower as I passed the throne dais. Kael’s chair loomed above the others, carved with wolves and stars. My smaller seat beside it looked fragile, almost childish in comparison. The last time I’d sat there, he had ordered me not to speak during council.
I paused only long enough to lay my hand on its armrest. The wood was cold. “You can keep your throne,” I whispered.
When I reached the outer corridor, a voice startled me.
“Going somewhere, Luna?”
Two guards stood near the gate, both young, both loyal to Kael. Their armor gleamed faintly in the moonlight. I recognized one of them — Finn, a pup I’d nursed through his first shift.
I kept my head lowered, hood shadowing my face. “You shouldn’t be here,” I said quietly.
“Alpha said no one leaves the compound tonight.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not ‘no one,’” I replied, and met his eyes.
Something flickered there — recognition, confusion, then shame. He stepped aside almost instinctively. “Luna… are you—”
“I’m not your Luna,” I cut in. “Not anymore.”
The other guard started to protest, but Finn caught his arm. “Let her pass,” he murmured. “You can’t stop her.”
I inclined my head once, gratitude hidden behind the hood, and moved through the gate. The wards shimmered faintly — a net of light woven from Kael’s bloodline magic. They pulsed once, sensing my mark, then weakened. The barrier parted like fog, letting me through.
The moment I crossed it, the air changed.
The Blackthorn scent fell away, replaced by the clean bite of pine and frost. The night felt wilder here, freer. I inhaled deeply, and for the first time in years, my lungs filled without pain.
Behind me, the fortress loomed against the sky, black and cruelly beautiful. The moon reflected off its towers like a blade. For a heartbeat, I almost pitied Kael — the man who had everything but warmth. Then I turned away.
The forest opened before me, endless and silver. I ran.
At first, I moved in human form, cloak snapping behind me. Then my wolf broke free.
The shift was agony and release all at once. Bones cracked, muscles reshaped, fur tore through skin. My senses exploded — scent, sound, sight sharpening until the world sang. The ground beneath my paws was alive, the rhythm of earth and heartbeat in perfect time.
Run, she whispered.
We did.
Branches whipped past, the moon above us an unblinking witness. My paws churned up frost as I bounded through the trees, faster and faster, until the wind tore the last traces of the Blackthorn stench from my fur.
Hours passed like moments.
When the forest began to thin, I slowed. Ahead lay the mountain ridge — the ancient border between Kael’s domain and the Silvermoon lands. Beyond it stretched the valley I hadn’t seen in nearly two decades.
I shifted back to human, breath misting in the cold air. My body trembled from exhaustion, but inside me, something fierce and bright burned steady.
The border stones gleamed faintly, engraved with the runes of my ancestors. Each symbol hummed when I stepped closer, recognizing the blood that still flowed in my veins.
Two sentries appeared from the mist — wolves in white armor, spears glinting. They froze when they saw me.
“State your name and pack,” one commanded, voice low and wary.
“Aria Silvermoon,” I said. “Daughter of Elder Alpha Rowan. Former Luna of the Blackthorn Pack.”
The second guard blinked. “Impossible. Lady Aria vanished years ago.”
“Then tell him,” I said softly, “his ghost has come home.”
The first guard’s spear lowered slightly. “Wait here. We must send word—”
But the old magic in the air shifted before he could finish. A gust swept across the ridge, scattering snow and pine needles. From the valley below, a howl rose — deep, commanding, unmistakable.
My father had heard me.
The guards stepped aside immediately, bowing low. One murmured, “He calls for you.”
I nodded, though my heart pounded painfully against my ribs. I hadn’t spoken to him since the day I chose Kael. The memory burned — his hand slamming against the council table, his words cold and final: If you walk out that door, you are no daughter of mine.
And still, I had walked out.
Now I was walking back, older, emptier, carrying every consequence of that choice.
The path wound downward through the forest. Frost glittered like stars on the ground. Each step closer to Silvermoon Keep felt heavier, as though the land itself tested my resolve. Wolves appeared among the trees — silent sentinels watching from the shadows. None attacked. They knew their blood when they smelled it.
At last the trees parted, revealing the fortress of my youth — carved from pale stone that shimmered faintly under the moonlight. Its towers curved like the horns of a crescent, elegant and unyielding.
Torches flared to life along the walls as I approached, the guards’ howls echoing my father’s summons.
When I reached the gate, two heavy doors swung inward. Beyond them stood Rowan Silvermoon, older than I remembered, his silver hair tied back, his eyes still the color of storm clouds. The mark of the Alpha burned faintly on his neck.
For a heartbeat, neither of us moved.
Then he spoke, voice deep and measured. “You have your mother’s stubbornness. She too thought love could tame a wolf.”
I bowed my head. “I was wrong.”
He studied me in silence. “And now you come crawling back.”
“No,” I said. “I come standing.”
Something flickered in his expression — pride, maybe, or relief carefully hidden behind disdain. “You were born of this blood. You never stopped being Silvermoon, even when you forgot it.”
The weight in my chest loosened slightly.
“I have nowhere else to go,” I admitted.
“Then you will stay,” he said, turning toward the keep. “Not as a daughter, not yet. As a wolf who must remember who she is.”
I followed him through the gates. The air inside the walls smelled of home — cedar smoke, old stone, snow. The gates closed behind us with a heavy thud, sealing the past outside.
For the first time in decades, I felt safe. Not comfortable, not forgiven — but safe.
As we crossed the courtyard, a movement caught my eye near the training grounds: a man leaning against the wall, arms folded, watching us. His scent reached me before his gaze did — smoke, iron, rain. A rogue’s scent, yet familiar somehow.
Rowan noticed my glance. “That’s Lucien Vale,” he said. “A warrior who owes me his life. He trains our new sentinels. You’ll meet him soon enough.”
Lucien inclined his head, eyes unreadable in the torchlight. There was something in his stare — recognition, maybe curiosity. I couldn’t tell which.
My father continued toward the keep, his voice steady. “Rest tonight. Tomorrow, you begin again.”
When we entered the grand hall, the fire roared high, casting the Silvermoon banners in gold and crimson. I stopped at the threshold, overwhelmed by memory — laughter, childhood, a home I thought I’d lost forever.
Rowan paused beside me. “You left this place for love,” he said quietly. “Return to it for strength.”
I met his gaze. “I intend to.”
He nodded once and walked away, leaving me alone before the hearth.
I removed my cloak and laid the Silvermoon crest on the mantle, beside the flames. The metal caught the light, glowing softly.
Outside, the wind carried distant howls — the song of the pack that had once disowned me. Now, they howled for me again.
I closed my eyes and whispered the only words that mattered.
“I’m home.”
第4章
Earlier that night, before I ran beneath the moon, I didn’t follow Kael.
He walked away still laughing with Selene, his arm looped around her waist like a prize. I could hear his voice through the thin stone wall—low, playful, whispering about the Moonspire hot springs and the “honeymoon suite” the council gifted them.
The sound turned my stomach.
I stayed on the floor where I’d fallen earlier, knees pressed into cold marble, palms trembling against the soot that clung to the hearth. The smell of burnt cedar filled my lungs until it felt like breathing ash.
I pushed myself upright. My knees popped, my pride scraped raw. I crossed the room, moving without thought, and shut the door behind me. The latch clicked—small, final.
In the mirror above the basin, a stranger stared back. Her braid had come undone, streaks of silver spilling across her shoulders. Eyes rimmed red. Lips split from biting back screams.
I studied her like a ghost.
There was no funeral tonight, yet I was mourning—
Not for Kael.
Not for the hollow thing we called a bond.
I was mourning the girl who once believed that love could out-howl power.
Outside the door, footsteps paused. His scent hit first—iron and pine. Then his voice, casual, like nothing had cracked between us.
“Pack my things,” he said. “Council retreat in Duskfall Valley. We leave at dawn.”
No glance. No warmth.
Then he was gone, his laughter echoing down the corridor.
I stared at the door a moment longer, then wiped my hands on a crooked towel. My body moved on instinct—obedience so old it felt inherited.
His chamber was a storm of chaos: cloaks draped over chairs, armor half-polished, travel cases gaping. I began to fold his shirts anyway—white linen, black ceremonial tunics. I aligned his blades, polished the hilts until my reflection gleamed on steel.
When I reached for a shelf, my elbow brushed a stack of scrolls. Something slipped free and hit the floor with a dull thud.
A velvet envelope. The seal of the Lunar Council pressed in wax.
I knelt, heart already tightening, and slid the parchment free.
“The Bloodmoon Sojourn — Official Invitation.
Alpha Kael Blackthorn & Luna Selene Blackthorn, accompanied by heirs Liran and Nash.
Five-day voyage across the Starsea. Cabins prepared under the Goddess’s blessing.”
My name was nowhere.
Not even a courtesy mention.
Not even as “former.”
The Bloodmoon Sojourn—our dream trip. The one he once promised me on the night of our marking: “We’ll see the Starsea together.”
He remembered the dream. He just replaced the dreamer.
I folded the invitation carefully, as though rough hands might make it bleed. Then I placed it back, lined his boots, wiped the dust from his chestplate. The motions were mechanical, the ritual of someone performing her own autopsy.
A knock startled me. The door swung open without waiting for my answer.
Liran sauntered in, a tankard of ale dangling from his fingers. “Hey, Mother. Pack mine too, will you? Selene said we need our formal capes.” He smirked. “Don’t forget Nash’s gloves. The salt air ruins his hands.”
He didn’t wait for a reply.
I folded their capes. The scent of youth and arrogance clung to the fabric.
When the room finally emptied, I sat on the edge of the bed, invitation lying beside me like evidence. My hands shook, but my mind was eerily calm.
I let it drift back—
To another moon.
Another version of him.
The Kael I first met.
---
I was barely seventeen, daughter of the Silvermoon Alpha, too proud, too curious for my own safety. Kael had come as a guest envoy—taller than the other boys, his laugh bright, his eyes full of mischief. He watched me like I was something wild he didn’t dare touch.
That night at the feast, he slipped away from the crowd and found me in the gardens.
“Aria,” he said, voice soft under the stars, “you smell like rain before it falls.”
I remember laughing, shy, half-offended. “You don’t even know me.”
He reached for my hand. “Not yet. But I will. I swear on the Moon.”
We met again after that—secretly, beneath the silver birches. He spoke of unity between packs, of ending the blood feuds. He said he didn’t care about lineage or laws, only about us.
“I’ll take care of you,” he promised. “You’ll never have to fight again. I’ll carry your battles.”
I was young enough to believe that was love.
When my father discovered our meetings, he summoned me to the council chamber. I still remember the way the torches hissed, how his gaze burned colder than winter steel.
“You disgrace your blood,” he said. “A Silvermoon heir does not mate beneath her line.”
“I love him,” I told him, voice shaking but sure.
“You love a shadow,” he answered. “And shadows devour the foolish.”
When I refused to end it, he rose, towering, the full weight of his title in every syllable.
“You walk to him, you walk out of this pack. You cross my border, you cross from my blood. You will not come back.”
“I’ll make my own family,” I said.
“Then die with them.”
I left that night anyway. Ran through the frost until Kael’s scent guided me to his arms. He swore we’d build a new beginning, that love was stronger than law.
For a while, it was. For a while, he was the boy who touched my face like prayer.
But years turned promises into chains, and now that boy laughs with another Luna under my moon.
---
The memory faded. The room returned—colder, smaller, full of ghosts.
I looked again at the invitation. My fingers no longer trembled.
He had erased me from his life.
I would erase my obedience from his.
I stood, opened the window, and let the night air rush in. Far away, the horizon glimmered faintly—the direction of the Silvermoon mountains. My birthright. My exile. My only refuge left.
I smiled, bitter and soft.
Then I crossed the room to the old communication orb resting on the shelf. Its surface was dull, dust-coated. I hadn’t touched it in decades. The last time I did, my father’s voice had thundered through it, disowning me.
I placed both hands on the crystal. Whispered the incantation. The runes flared weakly, protesting the years of silence, then caught the thread of energy and hummed alive.
It rang once.
Twice.
A third time.
Then a voice—rougher now, older, but unmistakable.
“Who calls?”
My throat closed. For a heartbeat, I almost severed the spell. But then the words tumbled out, fragile as breath.
“Father,” I whispered. “It’s me. Aria.”
Silence.
I thought the connection had broken. Then I heard it—a sharp inhale, like the world itself gasping.
“Aria,” he said at last, and the sound of my name in his voice undid me. “After all these years…”
Tears blurred the crystal until it shimmered like moonlight through water. I couldn’t speak. The only sound was my breathing, ragged and small.
Finally, I found my voice. “I have nowhere else to go.”
A long pause. Then his reply, steady, unflinching.
“Then come home.”
The orb dimmed, the light fading back to gray.
I held it against my chest until it cooled, my tears drying to salt on my skin. Outside, the wind shifted east, carrying the scent of snow and cedar—the scent of Silvermoon territory.
Tomorrow, I would follow it.
Tonight, I would rest among ruins and remember the girl who once thought love could rewrite bloodlines.
Tomorrow, the woman would return to claim her name.