Chapter 11

“Hey,” he said, raising a hand in a hesitant wave. “Happy almost birthday.”

Asha stopped in her tracks. The warmth that had built inside her from Farah’s touch and George’s steady presence evaporated in a flash.

She didn’t answer. She didn’t even acknowledge him. Her eyes slid right past him like he wasn’t there.

George’s reaction was instant, a guttural growl rumbled from his chest, sharp and protective. His eyes burned gold as he stepped forward, muscles coiled tight.

Farah reached out and gripped his arm quickly. “Not now,” she whispered urgently, tugging him back.

Rowan took a few steps toward Asha. “I just thought… maybe when midnight hits, it’ll be real and we’ll finally feel it. You and me, we were meant to be, Asha.”

Her eyes cut toward him, now making eye contact but with ice in her expression. “Were we?”

Rowan’s smile faltered. “I made mistakes, I know. I didn’t know what to do when…”

“Why are you here?” she asked coldly, cutting him off. “You’ve had days, days now I’ve been awake, healing. And now suddenly when you think a bond might fix everything, you show up?”

Rowan’s mouth opened, but no words came.

Jason stepped in with a sharp laugh, sarcastic and cruel. “You really think this is your redemption arc? That the moon’s gonna throw you a lifeline and she’s gonna swoon into your arms?” He turned to Asha. “If anything, you’re gonna reject him at midnight just to make sure the goddess knows he’s not worth a second chance.”

Rowan stiffened. “You don’t know…”

“No, I do,” Jason snapped. “You abandoned her when she needed you most. You didn’t even ask how she was. That bond didn’t form because it was never meant to survive you.”

“I was scared,” Rowan said, louder now. “I thought I felt something but I”

“Then why run?” Asha demanded, her voice rising. “Why vanish for three days and show up tonight acting like this moment belongs to you?”

Rowan’s eyes darted between them. “Because I thought… maybe… if tonight’s the night… I needed to be here.”

Jason scoffed. “No, you needed to be here three days ago. She doesn’t need you now.”

Asha turned away from him fully, the sting of disappointment only confirming what she already knew. She tilted her face to the sky, searching for a sign, anything.

But the sky remained calm. The wind was still. No pull. No shift. No fire igniting her blood.

George looked down at his phone, the glow casting shadows across his clenched jaw. “Midnight.”

Nothing.

Asha exhaled, slow and controlled, but inside, something cracked.

“Guess that’s it,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Farah moved to her side, looping an arm through hers. Jason stepped closer, posture stiff with anger on her behalf. George took one final look at Rowan, who now stood alone at the edge of the yard, stunned and wordless, before turning and guiding Asha back toward her room, no resistance or emotion as she laid down to end this hopeless filled night.

***

In the Gammas room, the morning sun lit the edges of the curtains in soft gold, but Amy sat in the shadows. Her gaze was fixed on the window overlooking the backyard where, just hours ago, her daughter had stood beneath a cloud-covered sky, waiting for something that never came.

Her hand clenched slightly around the mug of tea she hadn’t touched. The warmth had long since faded, like her own sense of peace.

The door clicked softly as Ned stepped in, closing it gently behind him. He crossed the room without a word and took the seat beside her near the window. For a while, neither of them spoke.

They didn’t need to.

“She didn’t cry,” Amy finally whispered. “Not one tear. She just stood there. I watched her face, Ned, I saw the exact moment her hope shattered.”

Ned rubbed a hand over his face, jaw clenched tight. “Rowan showing up didn’t help.”

“No, but that wasn’t what broke her.” Amy turned to him now, eyes glistening but unreadable. “It was the silence, the waiting, the shift never came. For her, that was confirmation she’s not enough.”

“That’s not true,” Ned said, voice low.

“I know that. And you know that. But she doesn’t.”

She finally stood, pacing slowly, then paused near her dresser. Her hand hovered over a small, carved wooden box. “She thinks the goddess ignored her. But the truth is, the goddess already chose her. The moment she was born.”

Ned looked up, brow furrowing. “Amy…”

“She deserves to know.” Amy’s voice was stronger now, steadier. “She deserves the truth, before she starts believing the lies her silence tells her.”

Amy swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s my fault. I should’ve told her. About the night she was born.”

Ned shifted forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Still believe it would’ve helped?”

“I don’t know,” Amy admitted. “But at least she would’ve known something was different. That she wasn’t broken. That maybe the reason her wolf hasn’t come… is because she didn’t arrive like the others. You weren’t there when they found me in the field, I was so close to death that night.”

“Edgar turned his back on the bond. The moment I needed him most, he was with her. The betrayal didn’t just wound me, it unbalanced the bond so violently that my heart nearly stopped, and Asha….” her voice broke, and she reached for the edge of the dresser to steady herself. “Asha did stop breathing. She was gone. I held her in my arms, and she was so still. So silent. And then…”

Her eyes lifted to the window again, as if she could still see it. “Then the clouds parted. For just a moment. And the moonlight, so pure, silver, and divine. It poured onto the field of flowers, then it touched her. Just her, and she gasped.”

“She was chosen,” Ned murmured, realization blooming in his eyes again, like it had all those years ago. “Brought back by the moon itself, but not her wolf.”

Amy nodded. “And I’ve kept that secret all this time because I didn’t know what it meant. Because I thought the goddess would show her in her own time. But now… now she walks around thinking she’s broken. That she isn’t normal, especially with her dreams and her powers that manifested when she was a child. She remembers nothing except for those eyes in her dreams, the eyes that we saw her have.”

“She needs to know soon. Maybe not everything, not yet. But the truth about her birth. That the moon goddess chose her. That she was wanted even before she could take her first breath.”

She turned back toward him, fire returning to her eyes. “Because tonight… something is coming. I can feel it in my bones, Ned. The moon will shine again, and Asha will no longer be able to pretend she’s ordinary.”

Ned was silent, mulling over the weight of his sister’s words. Amy stood at the window, still and quiet now, her fingers brushing the curtain’s edge like she could coax the moonlight back herself.

A knock interrupted the moment, brief and polite.

“Come in,” Ned called.

Garrett stepped inside, dressed in formal black, the silver thread of the Miravael crest glinting at his collar. He gave a respectful nod to both siblings, but his eyes lingered just a second longer on Amy.

“The Lycan King was spotted not too far from here,” Garrett announced, his voice calm and steady as always. “He’s bringing his Royal Beta and a Royal Elder. Soon, they will start preparing the sacred ground. Ned, they’ll be looking for you, you must be ready and not make them wait when they arrive.”

Ned nodded and started toward the door, but paused, glancing back at Amy. “I’ll find George, he’ll want to know he’s here.” Amy gave a small nod, lips pressed together.

Ned leaves the room and walks down the hall to find the future Alpha, but Garrett remained in the doorway. For a moment, he seemed unsure. Then he stepped forward, slowly, until he was close enough that Amy had to lift her gaze.

“I remember the night she was born,” he said softly, his voice lowering like it was meant for only her. “After what happened in the clinic, after what we found out, you were so pale, I thought we were going to lose you. I’d never seen Ned cry like that before.”

Amy looked down, her voice barely audible. “I barely remember it myself. Just… the pain. Then light.”

“I never left your side,” Garrett said. “Not until you opened your eyes. Ned had to force me to eat. I….I couldn’t leave you like that. Not after…”

His words trailed off, but Amy looked up sharply, her breath catching slightly.

“You’ve always been there,” she said.

Garrett’s lips quirked into a soft, almost apologetic smile. “So have you. Even when you were trying to hold everything together. Especially then.”

The moment hung there, quiet and delicate.

Amy’s fingers twitched slightly against the windowsill. She looked up at him fully, and for the first time in years, her expression softened. Not with grief or weariness, but something warmer. A tentative opening.

“I’m glad it’s you,” she whispered.

Garrett blinked, surprise flickering across his face, but only for a second. Then his expression turned gentle, reverent, as if he heard the unspoken truth beneath her words. I trust you. I see you.

He nodded once, the corner of his mouth lifting just enough to hint at something deeper. “I always will be.” Another knock came from downstairs, calling him back to duty. He dipped his head respectfully, and left.

Amy stood there for a long moment after, her fingers resting over her chest, then her neck, right where her old bond had once pulsed but already faded away.

And for the first time in years… something stirred.

***

Asha POV

I can hear the people buzzing around the pack lands. Alphas, Betas, Gammas, and others from all around the country, here at our once quiet, normal pack of Miravael.

Things have changed over the last few years, and the sudden attacks on our pack must be the reason why the Lycan King is here.

A shiver crawls up my spine when I think of him. I haven’t even seen him yet, but the soldiers on the border did. They said you could feel his presence emanating from the carriage. He radiated with power, ancient, yet full of life.

Farah went to go help George finish his tie, I just cant seem to get the strap on my dress right on my shoulder, and I am NOT taking this off to put it back on.

I go to my mothers room and find her still in there staring out the window. She looks so beautiful in her silver gown.

I step inside, soft steps and clicking of heels against the wooden floor. “You look beautiful,” I say to my mother gently.

Amy gave a faint, brittle smile in the mirror. “Thank you, as do you my little girl, all grown up in this magnificent dress. That I see is giving you some trouble?” She plays with the loose strap I had tangled, and with a pout I tell her “Mommy help” My mom starts to shake her head and laugh, no doubt thinking about how I survive without her.

There was a pause.

“I wanted to give you something,” Amy said, her voice unsteady, but not from nerves. From memory. She walked to a carved wooden chest and pulled out a tiny wrapped bundle, old cloth tied in faded ribbon.

I’ve always seen that box, but never knew for sure what was inside, maybe some old photos but… “What is it?”

Mom sat, motioning for me to join her. “The blanket you were wrapped in, the night you were born.” She unfolded the cloth slowly, reverently, revealing tiny stitching, “Asha” in silver thread.

I stared down at it, silent, waiting.

Mom’s eyes glistened. “There’s something I’ve never told you. Something I never wanted to burden you with until I thought you were ready.”

Unsure I ask her “What is it?”

“The night you were born, I lost you,” Amy said, voice barely above a whisper.

“Your father… Edgar, he betrayed me that night. The bond shattered, and I collapsed before I could even finish delivering you. You took one breath, and then it was silence. No cries.” Her hands trembled slightly as she gripped the edges of the cloth.

Shocked, my breath caught. “He… what? You said you both agreed to break the bond, that it wasn’t enough to love each other?”

Amy gave a pained smile before continuing, “I didn’t know then. I didn’t feel the break until it was too late and my body gave out.”

I began to cry and pull away when Amy held on tighter. “Please, let me tell you everything that happened that night.” I nodded, and mom told me her story in detail. Everything that she, Ned, and Garrett remembered about that day.

Chapter 12

Amy POV

Eighteen years ago, at the gamma house…

Why does the sun always shine the brightest in the morning when I am the sleepiest, sigh.

And this little pup is driving me wild, she really has something against my ribs today, either that or she really wants me out of bed.

Let’s go see what we can whip up with daddy, he should be home soon from patrol, rogues have been getting too close to the border, so he’s needed to do more patrols lately.

Downstairs I start to crack the eggs while the bacon is frying and I hear the door. “Edgar dear I’m making food, come have some breakfast before you rest up!”

He comes around the corner full of dirt and I almost lose it. “Oh, my goddess Edgar did you fight the forest?”

He lets out a small chuckle and tells me “No darling, Vargr wanted to chase a deer because he was getting tired of listening to the new recruit’s whine about laps in training today. Before he made them go for another lap he went on one himself. Those boys were quiet and on alert rest of the night when he dropped a clean bone in front of them.”

He and Vargr always love to tease the new recruits. As the Gamma I suppose it’s his job to keep them in shape, but I never liked that it was with fear.

I walked over to him reaching for a hug when he backed away quickly. He’s never done that before, but before I can question him, he tries to explain himself.

“Sorry babe I’m all full of crap from the forest and Vargr’s kill, I’m going to shower really quick, so I don’t get you dirty, I’ll be back down in a few.”

He blows me a kiss and runs upstairs, I guess I can understand that and just shake it off. I finish off breakfast and call Edgar down a few times, but I hear nothing.

I go upstairs and there he is passed out in bed, Vargr must have run him ragged all night. So, I return downstairs and eat breakfast alone, again.

That’s when I feel a little kick, a reminder that I’m never alone.

Eira chimes in now at that thought, …Am I just a figment of your imagination then? I’ve been around since you were 9 and this is the thanks I get?…

I start to laugh out loud at her dramatic nonsense. “Eira we are one, that doesn’t count, and you yelled at me all the time as a child.”

Eira scoffs and starts to laugh too.

…As a child you were a nightmare, nobody could get through to you but me or else I’d take over and stuff your face with vegetables…

I shuddered at how many times she made me eat raw broccoli and spinach, she was a master at torture, but made me into a calm strong woman, thanks to all the vegetables I never lacked in the nutrient department and in time learned to just relax to stop being punished. Though she would threaten me either way if I wasn’t eating properly on my own.

“It was always like having a second mom, or prison guard.” We both laughed at that one as I washed up the last bit of my dishes before heading over to the clinic for a checkup.

This time I’ll bring some fresh baked cookies. The pack doctor found a small rogue pup injured along the borderlines some time ago and adopted her. She is so cute and has quite the sweet tooth.

The sky shines in a warm afternoon glow now as I walk to the clinic.

Normally I would ask Edgar or Ned for a ride to places, but Edgar is still asleep and Ned, well Ned seemed to be in too much pain last doctor visit, I’m sure he was thinking of Lily and the child he will never meet. I promised myself I wouldn’t ask him to come to the clinic anymore no matter what, so a nice walk it is.

As I walk into the clinic, I greet all the ladies and hand out baggies of cookies. Afterwards I walk to the back to find the pack doctor Amber and her adopted daughter Donna.

Donna scraped her knee and was telling Amber it was “no big deal” and wanted to go back outside and play. That girl was always a curious one, never cried when she got bumps or bruises, I wonder what she went through so young to act so tough and mature.

“She would make a great soldier being so tough the way she is.” I say approaching the two, Donna actually looks sad and says she wants to follow her new mommy and help fix people.

Amber is about ready to cry now, I’m so happy she gets to have her pup in some way, her mate was killed in the battle that killed our Luna and many others.

Our pack was never attacked before that night and we were not prepared before, but we are now.

“If you want to be a doctor just like me, you have to stop climbing trees and read books.”

Donna pouts at Amber, “But what if I want to read the books in the tree?”

Both of us laugh at that because she just doesn’t seem like a kid sometimes until she doesn’t get her way.

“Enough pouting little child, I have something that will cheer you up.”

I pull out the bag of fresh cookies from my purse and hand it to Donna, eyes wide and big smile she screams a “Thank you!” and runs off. Me and Amber talk about her life as a single mom now and do some tests to check on my baby girl.

“I felt a painful sting in my side last night, but it faded pretty quickly. I figured I’d come check in the morning to make sure everything was fine. I’ve felt it once or twice before too.”

Amber seemed a bit confused but looking at the ultrasound, she can see that my little girl was very active and nothing was out of the ordinary. She wipes the gel off my belly and tells me what to do next.

“I would try to take it easy for a few days, less housework maybe, she just might not want too much movement from you. If you are stressing about anything then talk to your mate, maybe he can help.”

The mention of Edgar has me feeling a bit somber. She quickly notices and asks, “Is everything okay?”

I’m not sure how to answer so I lie, “Yes, he’s just been so busy with training lately, maybe I’m taking on too much of his stress too.”

She smiles and holds my hands to my belly, “He and the others want to protect us is all, we weren’t prepared that night, they want to be ready if it happens again.” I smile back and nod in agreement, not wanting her to prod further.

I say my farewell to her and the ladies, and a little wave to Donna who is in the trees with a book on different herbs in one hand and a cookie in another.

Feeling exhausted from baking those cookies all morning and the walk to and from the clinic, I decide to take a hot bath then a nap. I get inside the house and can’t hear a thing, Edgar must have gone to training while I was out.

After taking a nice bubble bath, I get a mindlink from Edgar that he will go straight to patrol and not wait up for him for dinner. Second time this week on a night off, but I suppose the new recruits do need extra training and attention.

I guess I won’t have to cook again at least, I’ll just have that grilled cheese I’ve craved all day. Before I turn out the lights, I set the ultrasound photos on Edgar’s pillow for him to see in the morning and lay my head down.

A sudden sharp pain woke me up some time later, I must have been asleep for a while because it was pitch black outside now. “What the heck was that Eira? Was that a dream? Is the baby okay?”

…I’m not sure Amy, something doesn’t feel right, the baby only reacted to the pain, but it was me and you who felt it…

I felt another shockwave of pain up my back and my belly tensed as my baby kicked around violently.

…Get to the clinic, something is wrong with us, with the baby…

I got up and put on my robe, too much pain to care what I looked like.

Walking down the stairs, I mindlink Edgar that I’m not feeling good and need to get to the clinic now. Silence was all I got in return. I tried again but it was like I couldn’t reach him, maybe Vargr took over and was hunting again.

I will just have to get there on my own.

I got outside and started to drag myself to the clinic. I started to get dizzy as waves of pain hit me, each wave more painful than the last. I must have taken a wrong turn at some point and ended up at the lake.

At this point I was in tears, I was in too much pain to focus on a link and too far for anyone to hear.

I look down and see red on my robe, I move it aside to see blood all down my legs and I scream.

“NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! My baby what’s happening to me?!”

It hit me then, it’s impossible, but I read somewhere that long ago, mate bonds were so powerful, that you would be connected to each other in every way.

You would be able to feel their presence, to be the only one able to smell their true scent, and to feel what they felt, including, when a mate was betraying the bond.

Then I felt it, one last massive wave of pain that went throughout my entire body brought me to my knees, but I felt it mostly in my heart, and in the mark on my neck from when Edgar marked me years ago.

With that wave, at the same time Eira let out a howl and gave me her last bit of strength as I pushed out my baby girl, “Asha”, I cried out her name for the first time before falling to my side just looking at her in my hands. My baby, full of blood, took a single breath and then stilled. I thought I was going to die in that moment. My wolf was now silent, I thought my life was fading away. I looked up to the night sky and swore I saw the full moon shining down on us.

The full moon hadn’t been seen in centuries so I must be dying, right? Suddenly, ripples formed on the ever still lake towards us, the moon shone brightly suddenly, only on my daughter’s body now. Right before my eyes shut and I blacked out, I swore I heard her take a breath.

Chapter 13

Alpha Ned and Beta Garrett were out on patrol when they received an urgent mindlink from a soldier.

…smelled blood, and found Amy and her newborn baby by the lake and took them to the clinic…

They both dashed to the clinic from their posts and rushed in the doors, Ned in his alpha tone with Torv at the surface demands “Where is my sister and niece?!”

The nurses hurriedly surrounded him and Garrett explaining to them that they were being looked at and Amy seemed to have lost a lot of blood but is healing slowly but surely. The baby seemed to be okay but is being monitored. They head off to her room to see her.

Only the beeping of machines and the soft, shallow breath of the unconscious mother could be heard. The child lay in a bassinet beside her, wrapped in warm blankets, her tiny chest rising and falling.

The Alpha stood rigid, hands clenched so tightly his claws had pierced his own palms. His mark, a grand tree etched like ink and flame onto his left side of his chest, glowed faintly, pulsing in warning. Rage simmered beneath his skin, his Beta stood close, trying to steady the storm.

The pack doctor worked quietly, her face pale. “She’s stabilized. Barely. But the mother… she needs rest.”

Then the doors burst open.

The Gamma, Edgar, stumbles in hair wild, shirt half-torn from the run. He smelled of sweat, dirt, and something wrong.

Surely he felt the bond snap and reform as well. Vargr of course the one in control now, “Why did I feel my child and mate bond snap? Who hurt my child and why can’t I feel my mate?!”

His eyes locked onto the bed….his mate, pale and bruised made his knees buckle.

The Alpha’s roar shook the walls.

He lunged, fangs flashing, fury uncontained. This was his niece. His sister. The betrayal wasn’t just familial, it was a disgrace to the Moon, to the pack, to the very bloodline he swore to protect.

Garrett is able to get in the middle before he reaches him. Torv is the one to speak, “Where the fuck were you?! You weren’t on duty tonight so why was she alone at the lake bleeding to death?!”

The Beta holding him back, barely, forcing him to remember the whispered plea from the mother in a sudden moment of consciousness just moments earlier:

“Tell no one. Please. Not yet.”

The Gamma collapsed beside the bassinet. The baby’s soft whimper made his breath catch. He reached for her, trembling, desperate to feel something, to try to make it right.

But the moment his fingers touched her skin, a searing pain lit up his arm.

He screams.

The branch mark along his left arm burned white-hot, then blackened. The thick bark-like symbol that once symbolized his rank with pride twisted, cracked, and the green leaves shriveled into ash.

His Gamma mark was dying.

Not stripped, but sickened, damaged. Reflecting the dishonor he’d brought. He clutched his arm, sobbing, his power waned like a flame in wind, half of what it once was.

“The Moon has judged you,” the Beta said quietly. “And spared you… only for now.”

Over the next few days, Edgar noticed a change within himself, and how the pack looked at him.

But the pack didn’t need to be told. They felt it.

At the training grounds, the Gamma’s mark, once a proud symbol of his calling, could not be hidden beneath armor or cloth. It was there, bare and dying, like a tree cut off from its roots.

His movements were slower now. Every strike carried the weight of shame. His soldiers followed commands, but the respect, the energy that flowed from trust, was gone.

Whispers filled the barracks and the markets.

“He’s done something… unforgivable.”“The Goddess herself cursed him…”“What kind of sin kills a blessing?”

No one dared ask. No one dared confront.

But no one needed to. The truth hovered, silent and suffocating.

Three days after the little girl was born, after she died and lived again, Amy stirs awake and first feels for Eira, praying she is okay. After relief washes over her from feeling her wolf stir, she frantically looks around the room for her baby.

Right beside her by the window, there she was, clean of all the blood, wrapped in her handsewn blanket sleeping so soundly. Amy reached over to brush her fingers against her cheek when she realized something off.

Eira starts to whimper and says the one thing no wolf mother wants to hear.

…I can’t feel her wolf, she was there when she took her first breath but now, her wolf is gone…

Overcome with so much pain and agony, Eira lets out a bloodcurdling cry mixed with a howl. This cry was the pain of a wolf losing their pup, and was felt within every wolf counterpart in the pack.

At the packhouse, Ned was having a meeting with Garrett and the elders about recent rogue sightings in the area. Garrett was talking about new patrol routes when they all heard and felt the howl.

Across the territory, wolves shifted and dropped to all fours in instinctive response. Some howled back in confusion, others trembled. Even pups felt the echo in their bones.

Elders clutched at their chests as if they felt the pain physically, clutching at their hearts as their wolves slammed against their human forms, demanding to be set free. Wrinkles shifted, bones cracked, but their discipline held, barely.

The Alpha paused, blood draining from his face. His wolf slammed hard to the surface and roared loudly as he shifted and jumped through the window to go to Amy.

The mother had awakened… and she had discovered the truth.

And now, so had they.

Across the training fields, the Gamma had just dismissed a pair of young warriors when his knees buckled.

He gasped, clutching his ribs, trying to shift, but nothing happened.

His wolf, once proud and powerful, was silent.

Wolves surrounded him on all sides, and looked at him like an intruder with their canines out and growling lowly.

Panic clawed at his throat. Sweat beaded on his brow. He staggered up, stumbling toward the clinic, driven by a force he couldn’t explain.

He felt it in his bones, he knew what that howl meant.

And he was not ready to face it.

The Alpha and Beta burst into the clinic lobby just as the Gamma stumbled through the opposite door.

Without a word, the Alpha shifted back into his human form and launched forward, fist connecting with the Gamma’s jaw in a thunderous crack that echoed through the sterile halls.

“Did you think we wouldn’t find out?” he roared, eyes glowing. “Every wolf in this pack felt it! You killed your pup!!”

A nurse comes rushing around the corner with scratches already starting to heal on her chest. She screams out to them, “She’s going rabid!!” Quickly Ned and Edgar rush towards the room.

When a wolf goes rabid, they have lost all natural thought, and essentially become a rogue, but more wild, a soul cut off from the moon.

They continue into the room to find Amy in her full wolf form, eyes shining light brown with bits of black creeping in on the edges, proving that she was going rabid.

She was hunched over a small bundle of blankets, and then a little arm poked out, she’s okay. Eira was keeping anyone from getting close to the baby and attacked the nurse who came in to help when she cried out.

Edgar attempts to approach her and the baby and Eira slices through his shirt, barely missing him. Edgar pleas with her and tries to soothe her, “Please baby shift back, she’s okay now I see her moving you’re safe now. But you gotta shift back you might hurt her.”

That last part seems to set her off and she roars at him.

Garrett approaches now to distract her from trying to attack Edgar again, meanwhile Ned walks around the side to try and get to the baby from behind while Eira fixates on Edgar. Garrett in a soft tone and hands up speaks to her, “Eira please give Amy back control, we felt your pain, we know why you are like this but please don’t go rabid, your baby needs you.”

Eira’s eyes flickered, the black going in and out. She seemed to have relaxed until Edgar tried to move closer telling her “Good job, just listen and you’ll be fine.” She postured herself in an attack stance at Edgar and growled low before she brought her paw back and sliced it across Edgar’s chest.

Werewolves can heal all wounds except for ones made from silver, wolfsbane, moon blessed items, or a wound from a mate’s claws or teeth.

At the same time she swung, Ned was able to grab the baby, she was still asleep through all the noise.

Garrett yelled out at Edgar, “Don’t move you idiot you’re triggering her!”

Edgar growls at him, “She’s my mate. Don’t tell me how to handle her, even if you are Beta, she is MINE.”

Eira takes another step forward prepping to strike again when the world dimmed.

The room fell deathly quiet.

And through the large clinic window, the sun darkened behind the moon.

An eclipse.

The Moon Goddess was watching.

The mother’s body froze mid-motion. Her paw trembling in the air. Her glowing eyes widened, and then dulled.

She collapsed forward to the floor, shifting rapidly back into human form. Her scream cracked the air as she clutched her arm. A searing symbol etched into her skin, a singular, small green leaf on a bare branch, the beginning of her new fate.

She fell unconscious.

Garrett rushed to her side, heart pounding. He peeled back her eyelid, now golden eyes fading… until only warm brown remained.

“She’s okay,” he whispered. “She’s asleep. She’s still here.”

Behind them, Edgar sat in stunned silence, blood streaked down his torso. His wound had healed almost instantly, but a scar remained. Garrett took Amy and Ned took the baby to another room to rest and left Edgar behind to be alone with what he had done.

***

Asha sat beside Amy on her bed, fingers trembling slightly as her mother traced the inside of her daughter’s wrist, grounding herself in the warmth there.

“Some truths,” Amy said quietly, eyes fixed on the wall instead of her child, “don’t come when you want it, but when you need it. When you’re strong enough to survive them.”

Asha swallowed. She didn’t ask which truths those were.

The silence between them wasn’t empty. It was heavy with years of unsaid pain and grief. Now released, their hearts can learn how to mend their relationship. To show Asha her story began full of pain and sorrow the day she was born, but that doesn’t have to be how it ends.

As they continue their moment, just outside the door, someone listened in…

Chapter 14

Edgar POV

I stood frozen in the hallway, one hand braced against the stone wall as though it were the only thing keeping me upright.

Amy’s voice carried through the door. Steady. Gentle.

I pressed my forehead to the wood, my teeth clenched hard enough to ache.

“Don’t surface,” I beg to my wolf quietly, tears falling freely from my face.

Vargr churned beneath my skin. Grief-stricken, furious, desperate to claw his way forward and howl his forgiveness into the night, but I didn’t deserve that mercy…

The pain from that night still lingers…

***

…Alright you mangy dogs, get ready to head back to the packhouse. Next rotation for perimeter watch starts in 5 minutes, they’ll be at the post in 2 minutes to relieve you…

A moment later a reply in the link.

…Yes Gamma on our way…

Good, they’d better be quick or I’ll just have them do an extra lap around the entire perimeter, rules be damned.

Edgar, doing one more round alone on the far end of the packhouse before heading home, heard something coming up from behind him. He quickly turned to wrap a hand around their throat as Vargr lets out a growl before he can hold it. He smiles wickedly at the person before him and loosens his grip.

“Neris, now what are you doing out here cheeky girl?”

She giggles in reply, paying no mind to the grip that was on her neck a moment ago, she always did like it a bit rough. Her face goes into a fake pout and she says,

“Well Mr. Gamma, I was trying to sleep but just couldn’t. Kept hearing noises in my room, could you help me sleep?”

Edgar resisted her many attempts to get him upstairs before. Last time she almost won when she had kissed him, but Vargr took over. Shifting and running off to the woods for a fresh kill to wash off the scent of that ‘vile woman’ as he calls her.

This time though, Neris showed up in the forest almost completely bare of clothes, a red lingerie piece in a silk robe.

“Please my Gamma, help me rest, I am so alone and need the touch of a strong wolf to help mine heal from the loss I have dealt with.”

Neris had lost her mate months ago in the rogue raid that killed the Luna, Neris has been inconsolable and almost went rogue with madness when Edgar soothed her. Since then, Neris has been obsessed with making Edgar hers.

Neris began to undo her robe and wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him before he could stop her, and he lost all control with that.

Edgar’s own weakness of being unable to save the Luna and his pack that night, along with some soldiers losing faith in his strength, made it easy for a “damsel in distress” to weasel her way in through compliments and constantly stroking his ego.

Edgar barely registered the silk robe and dirt beneath his palms, or the heat of the woman beneath him.

There had been a flicker in the bond earlier, a tug, a faint unease when he laid atop Neris.

He ignored it.

Edgar slid inside Neris, groaning in pleasure. Neris was laughing and moaning with each thrust, knowing she finally won. Edgar resists as Vargr scrapes furiously at the front of Edgars mind, begging him to stop.

…Please Edgar!! This is not right! She is not our mate, why are you doing this to our mate and unborn pup?!…

Then the bond tightened.

Vargr snarled louder, claws scraping at his ribs.

And then, something formed.

A presence, small, fragile, brilliant.

Edgar pauses, Vargr stills, and his breath hitched.

…Our pup, we can actually feel her, she’s here…

Vargr whispered in awe.

The bond surged… and then snapped.

Edgar gasped, rolling away as agony ripped through his chest. The mate bond tore next, violent and final, like something being ripped out by the roots.

He screamed bloody murder that echoed through the forest.

With Edgar weak, Vargr surged forward, eyes locked on the woman scrambling back in terror in the dirt.

Teeth bared, Vargr stalked toward her, every instinct screaming to end her.

Then, another flicker.

A distant echo of his pup brushed the bond, faint but unmistakable.

Vargr faltered.

A low, broken whimper tore from his throat, and instead of striking, he turned and ran, the possibility of his pup still being alive too strong to go for the kill.

Edgar barely remembered shifting.

He remembered dirt beneath his feet, and in the distance, a guard shouting.

“The Alpha’s sister is losing a lot of blood!! Too much, even for a wolf…”

The words didn’t fully land before Vargr took off again.

He knew where they were now, him and his wolf just prayed they weren’t too late when they crashed through the clinic doors…

***

With the memory resurfacing, pain flooded his body again, and Vargr takes control and darts out and away from the packhouse and the festivities.

The forest blurred around him as he tore through the trees, ripping through his clothes. This shift was quick but painful, grief and rage fueling his speed.

Vargr wanted blood. Wanted her. He cursed himself for sparing her that night, he should have torn out her throat then find his family.

Then, a scent. Familiar.

His stride faltered but recognition sparked too late.

A figure in the distance, body and face covered with a red cloak, but he knew exactly who it was. He opened his mouth to howl, and pain exploded in his neck. A faint whimper being let out instead.

His legs buckled and the world tilted.

The last thing Edgar saw before darkness took him was the cloaked figure lowering their arm.

And then, nothing.

***

Minutes before in the distance, a royal horse carriage quickly dashes through the forest. Their meeting at the palace running later than usual, the Head of the Elders, Elder Kaelen, was fighting hard with the king to be the one to accompany him to the Miravael pack. He was much older than the others and had a condition that was not to be taken lightly that only the Lycan King was aware of.

Kaelen had heard about Miravael before, it being formed after the war from small groups of burnt down packs in the area that wandered together. They found a large opening in the forest near a lake and made their home there.

Normally one of the lesser elders would accompany the Lycan King and the Royal Beta, but the dream he had the past year shook him to his core.

In his dream, two halves of a full moon in the sky, one white and the other in shadow, becomes one. Then a violet light shines down on a lake in a forest, before a wave of green fog bursts out from the trees and he awakes.

He did not recognize the lake in his dreams, though a shiver ran up his spine when the Lycan King mentioned the name of the pack, and it was settled that he must join them.

Kaelan did some research on this pack before leaving the palace. He finally speaks up in the carriage, asking the Lycan King a question he’s been itching to ask since the mention of this pack.

“My King, were you aware of the two rogue attacks on this pack? No matter how far back I looked into this pack, there were only ever two attacks. One was about 19 years ago, a large amount of their pack was destroyed, and the Luna was killed that night while pregnant with Alpha Ned’s second child.

This attack was actually linked to some witches that were captured, but the only information we got from them was “They had to die for the sake of the Coven.” We believe they were some fanatics to the old head of the coven, Hexa, who is rumored long gone, but no relation. The second was 13 years ago, nowhere near as brutal, more disorganized and as if just to cause damage with only a handful of new wolves that perished. Why do you think this pack never had any bloodshed, but twice in a 5-year period?”

The King sat in the corner of the carriage, eyes closed, hidden in the dark away from the glow of the night.

For a moment, he saw it again. The cliff, midnight blue water stretching to the horizon. But this time, instead of the woman he had always seen in his dreams since he was a child, there were two figures. A little girl in the same dress standing close to a woman in white. The moon goddess herself, her hair like silver moonlight, dress flowing like liquid light. The child’s gaze was unwavering, fixed on the water, unafraid of how close to the edge.

A shiver ran down Ashavar’s spine. That girl… he knew, somehow, she was important. More than any dream should allow.

He thought of that night, when the memory of the cliff made Kor stir like a storm trapped beneath the skin that night. Ashavar awoke in a violent half-shift, the room around him splintering under the force of the Lycan’s anger. Furniture splintered, the scent of ozone and blood thickened the air, and the shadows seemed to recoil from the raw, primal power coiling within him.

Kor was a beast unlike any other. Feral, relentless, the pain and loss his kind had received fueled his fury worth a thousand Lycans. His claws could tear through stone. His jaws could crush bone without hesitation. He was anger incarnate, and his rage needed containment, not counsel.

Though there was always this feeling that he had something ripped away from him.

Ashavar had trained for this his entire life. Centuries of control, centuries of restraint, and a strength of will that could bend Kor’s fury into obedience without crushing it entirely. Though tonight, he almost lost that battle. His Lycan fought within him, twisting, snarling, threatening to break free.

The battle lasted hours, though it felt like minutes. Half-shifted, he could feel his claws tearing at the walls, could feel Kor’s teeth gnashing just shy of his own control. One wrong move, and he could have gone feral, lost entirely to the Lycan’s hunger for destruction.

By dawn, the room was in ruins. Splintered wood and upturned furniture littered the floor, yet Ashavar stood, trembling slightly, eyes burning with a mix of exhaustion and unyielding power. Kor had quieted, coiled like a snake waiting for the slightest command, but the anger beneath the surface remained. Always simmering. Always ready. Only Ashavar’s unparalleled strength, both of body and will, kept it tethered, contained.

Ashavar looks towards Kaelan and opens his eyes. Only his deep orange eyes visible, he speaks low.

“The second attack, that is the night I almost went feral.”

Before Kaelan could react or reply, a small whimper is heard in the distance just as the coachman says aloud “We have arrived at the entrance to the packhouse. Welcome to the Miravael Pack.”

Chapter 15

Asha POV

Back in Amy’s room…

My eyes burned, anger and confusion. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Because I didn’t understand it myself. I still don’t. But I’ve always known… you were meant for more. You weren’t just reborn that night. You were chosen I think, for something much greater.”

Amy pressed the bundle into her hands. “I know you’re scared, sweetheart. I know you think today is the end of the road. That your wolf isn’t coming. That the chance for a bond has passed you by. But the truth is, your life has never followed anyone else’s timeline.”

She stood, leaning down to kiss Asha’s forehead. “Just be patient with yourself, and trust the moon. She brought you back for a reason, she hasn’t forgotten you.”

Mom kissed my forehead, lingering there for a moment longer than usual.

I held the tiny bundle of cloth in my hands like it was a living thing, fragile, full of memory and meaning. My throat was tight, mind full, but something stirred within me that I hadn’t felt in days. Hope.

A soft knock came at the door.

Farah poked her head in, breathless but smiling, her own gown flowing like seafoam behind her. “It’s time, they’ve arrived.” she said gently. “They’re starting the procession.”

Amy stood and smoothed her daughter’s hair once more before stepping back. “Go on, now.”

Nodding slowly, tucking the little blanket inside the sash of my dress. “Okay.”

Farah moved beside me, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. “You ready?”

“No,” I admitted, her voice quiet. “But I’ll walk anyway.”

The two girls left the room together, their silhouettes framed in the warm hallway light. Amy lingered behind for just a moment longer, hands clasped tightly in front of her, eyes shimmering with the weight of all the years that had brought them to this moment.

Then she turned and followed, the sounds of ceremony rising softly in the distance.

***

Outside everyone is settling in, it’s almost time for the ceremony to begin. Ned walks with George not too far behind and approaches the Elder Kaelen, Royal Beta Eric, and the Lycan King, Ashavar.

The Lycan King was impossible to overlook.

He stood nearly seven feet tall, all controlled strength and quiet dominance, his broad frame built like something forged for war. Thick, jet-black hair, long and wavy, was bound into a knot at the nape of his neck, though loose strands framed a sharp, clean-shaven jaw.

His eyes were a deep emerald green, ancient and knowing, carrying the weight of centuries. When they settled on someone, it felt like being measured down to the soul.

At the center of his chest lay a white moon, glowing faintly against his skin, not ink, not scar, but a living mark. A declaration older than any crown.

The mark of the Lycan King.

The both of them bow then turn their heads to reveal their necks in submission to the King. He grunts his approval.

Then he spoke. His voice was deep and slow, scraped raw by time yet untouched by weakness, like gravel stirred beneath the surface of a calm river.

“Is it time?”

The question rolled through the yard like thunder muffled by snow, ancient and unhurried. Ned swallowed. Even the silence after seemed to bow.

A voice that could still kingdoms or summon storms, and yet it asked instead of demanded.

Ned stutters as he answers, “Yes my King, everything is in order, the family is ready, and the guests have started taking their places on the field. The chair is already waiting for you your majesty.”

The Elder speaks up, voice ancient and full of wisdom. “The dagger?”

Ned turns and bows as he answers, “The dagger and cup are on the pedestal in front of the stone throne.”

Ashavar nods his head slightly, he looks to the two others and they start to walk to the path that leads to the open field to take their places for the ceremony.

George lets out a big huff. “Okay I think I held my breath that entire time, I cant believe I just stood in front of the Lycan king, he’s over 700 years old now right? How long do Lycans live?”

Ned knocks him upside the head, “Manners, never speak of the Kings age. They live for centuries, royals are said to be immortal, but his great-grandfather and grandfather became sick when their mates died in the war. His father was born sickly, and lasted only until he was able to take the throne.”

George rubbing his head looks back in awe. “Wow, and there’s only 5 left now right?”

“Yes George, and two are here today to make you an Alpha.”

George stumbles a little, then straightens his back before looking Ned in the eyes, “I’m ready father.”

***

As Ashavar and the others walk through the field, Ashavar’s thoughts start to wander. The weight of the night settled across the clearing like a velvet curtain, heavy, still, expectant. A stone-carved throne had been placed at the ceremonial circle’s edge, simple but dignified, adorned only with silver runes at the base to mark the authority of the palace. He sat tall upon it, draped in black and deep crimson, his eyes scanning the gathered wolves with unreadable calm.

There was one rogue attack about 20 years ago, then one about 12-13 years ago, but there hadn’t been any recent news of this pack lately. Kaelen assures me that there is something brewing out here that has to do with the war, and I intend to find out.

The Royal Beta stood beside him, arms crossed. The Elder, silent until now, stepped forward from the shadows and raised a hand. The murmurs of the crowd faded instantly.

“Tonight,” the Elder’s voice rang clear, ancient and commanding, “we stand upon a long-awaited threshold. The Miravael Pack, one of strength, honor, and long-enduring loyalty, welcomes its new leadership tonight. Alpha Ned, and his successor, young George, step forward now… with their family.”

The Elder holds out an arm where the family is set to appear. The beast within the Lycan King begins to stir, causing Ashavar to clench his jaw to keep control. The King’s eyes shimmered with a flicker of interest. His face, sculpted and composed, betrayed nothing, but something stirred beneath his skin. He’d been to many such ceremonies, seen many alphas rise. This night should have felt like any other. Yet something, some current in the air refused to settle.

The crowd began to part as the family made their way through the masses. First came Alpha Ned, proud and solemn in a charcoal cloak lined with navy. George followed, his tall form steady, jaw tight. Then came the past Gamma Amy, regal despite her gentle demeanor with the Beta Garrett, like a guard standing by her side, her eyes locked on the Lycan King for a heartbeat before dipping in a respectful nod.

And then….a flicker of blue.

The King’s breath caught.

He couldn’t see her face yet. But the crowd kept parting, like a tide peeling away from the shore, and there, walking between Gamma Jason and future Luna Farah, was a girl with hair black as night, catching the light like obsidian. Her dress rippled behind her like ocean waves, the color so vividly blue it struck something deep in his chest.

She looked like the girl on the cliff.

The dreams that had haunted him since he was a child, the figure he could never reach, always just beyond the wind, standing at the edge of the world beneath the full moon. Never have I seen her face, until one night, at a lake. Her hair flowed in her face and all I could see, were those violet eyes.

He leaned forward slightly.

The Royal Beta glanced at him, quietly noting the change, but said nothing.

The King’s gaze locked on the girl as she passed between the final rows. Still, he couldn’t quite see her face. But something in his soul, something deep and wordless, clenched in recognition. A thread he hadn’t realized had been fraying suddenly pulled taut.

The moment passed as the family took their places, and the Elder continued his speech. But the Lycan King did not hear it. Not fully.

He was still watching her.

Still waiting for her to turn and look back.

Kaelen’s voice boomed, grounding the swirling thoughts that had begun to overtake the King’s mind.

“We gather,” the Elder called, “under the eye of the moon, with the ancestors watching and the realm listening, to witness the rise of new leadership, the soul of the Miravael Pack reborn through legacy and blood.”

Ned stepped forward first, head high, with a quiet strength that spoke of hard-earned wisdom. George followed, nerves tightly coiled in his stance but his gaze unwavering.

The Lycan King stood from his seat, adjusting his robe approaching the elder.

Kaelen turned, lifting a ceremonial blade forged from starlight-iron blessed by the palace long ago. “As it has always been,” the Elder continued, “the blood of our leader, the protector of this land, and the heir must be joined. To bind past and present for the future. To honor the sacrifice, and carry the flame.”

It was the normal phrase, the one uttered only at these ceremonies. He’d heard it before, but somehow tonight, it felt heavier.

Ashavar extended his palm first. Then Ned, then George. With a swift and practiced hand, Kaelen cut across their skin, and their blood dripped into the Moon Chalice, the silver bowl etched with ancient runes older than any living wolf.

Kaelen spoke again. “From the soil to the sky, let the blood of the line awaken the blessing.”

He set the blade aside and raised the chalice.

A sudden wind stirred, sweeping across the field like a whisper. Then he ignited it.

The blood caught fire with a pale, silvery flame. It burned cold and bright. Smoke curled upward in perfect spirals.

And then….

The ground trembled.

Everyone trying to keep their footing, even the King, when the sky begins to change. The moon breaks through the heavens in full glory. No clouds. No veil. Just the raw, pulsing light of the goddess herself, shining down upon them.

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Then someone shouted, “It’s a blessing! The goddess has blessed the new Alpha!”

The Lycan King felt it too, but not as a confirmation.

As a warning.

The Elder went still.

His ancient eyes scanned the sky, then swept the crowd and froze.

There.

In the center of the gathering.

A girl.

Black hair falling around her shoulders like a shadow cast by the moon. Face tilted to the sky, violet eyes glowing like amethyst fire. She stood completely still, as if held by something beyond this plane.

Then she turned, and was gone, a blur of movement as she bolted into the woods, vanishing into the tree line.

No one noticed.

No one but Kaelen.

Even the Lycan King, who felt something thrum through his chest, did not yet realize the source of it. His eyes remained on the flame, on the moon, on the smoke rising.

***

10 minutes ago….

Her boots pressed into the soft grass as they stepped forward, the crowd parting like a tide around them. Jason walked at her side, Farah just behind. George and Ned were already ahead, backs straight as Elder Kaelen began to speak.

The crowd watched them closely, murmurs low but unmistakable. She could feel their eyes on her like a weight, crawling over her skin. But she didn’t look. She didn’t want to meet anyone’s gaze. It made sense. Everyone knew the Alpha’s niece still didn’t have a wolf. Of course they were watching. Full of pity and judgement of what it could mean.

She tried to push the heat down, the flush rising in her chest, the way her skin prickled.

Then the Elder’s voice deepened, shifting with the gravity of the ritual.

“From the soil to the sky…”

It felt like the air changed. Thicker. Charged. Asha blinked, suddenly aware of the way her heart had picked up speed. Her breathing had shortened, quick and shallow. A bead of sweat slid down her spine despite the night’s cool breeze.

What is happening?

Her hands trembled. The edges of her vision fuzzed like the world was losing focus. Jason turned, catching the shift in her face.

“You okay?” he whispered.

“I…” she started, then wobbled slightly on her feet. “I don’t… I don’t feel right.”

Jason reached for her arm. “Hey”

But she was already stepping back, shaking her head. “I have to go. Just, tell them I needed air.”

At first she walked, then started to sprint when her feet locked in place.

Chapter 16

She barely made it through the crowd before the earth rumbled beneath her feet. The sound reverberated through her bones, stopping her cold. She froze. Everyone did. But it wasn’t the quake that held her still.

It was the pull.

She looked up.

And there it was.

The moon.

Huge. Full. Blazing like a silver sun above her. Clouds had scattered completely. The light touched her skin like a caress, and something ancient stirred in her blood.

She gasped.

The crowd around her faded.

The flame, the pack, the Lycans, gone.

All she could feel was this.

An electric current shot through her chest, down her arms, her legs, all the way to her toes. Her hair lifted as if the wind itself bowed to the moment. Her limbs felt light, her heart thundered. She was….

Weightless.

And then she heard it.

A voice.

Not outside her. Not even beside her.

Within.

A voice old as time, soft as dusk, strong as storm.

…Run…

Her feet moved before her mind caught up.

A blur of light and trees and breath.

She didn’t look back.

She ran.

Branches whipped past her, tearing at her arms and dress, but she didn’t slow down. Her lungs burned, and her legs trembled beneath her, but something pulled her forward, urging her beyond the trees, deeper into the forest.

To the lake.

The moment she broke through the treeline, everything changed.

The forest fell away behind her, and there it was, the lake. Still. Silent. Perfect. A mirror of the moon above, untouched by even the gentlest breeze. Her breath hitched.

She took a shaky step toward the lake, when something changes.

There…a ripple.

Then another, and another.

One. Two. Three.

She stumbled back. The air shifted. Warped.

Then it hit her.

Her shoulder burned, twisting sharply with a pain that brought her to her knees. She gasped, grabbing at it, but the moment her fingers brushed the skin, a second jolt of pain slammed into her right calf. Her leg gave out beneath her. She screamed, silent and choked, as her ribs began to crack inward and reform.

Her hands, no, her claws dug into the earth. Her vision blurred as her jaw ached, canines pushing down like sharpened fire as the sickening sound of the other bones snapping and reforming take place.

Then….silence.

She dropped forward, cheek to the grass, gasping as the last tremor passed through her body like a final breath.

A loud thud echoed through the clearing as something very heavy met the ground….her.

She blinked.

But it wasn’t her fingers in the dirt.

It was a paw.

Asha’s heart stopped.

She pushed herself up, unsteady, and the body that moved… wasn’t the one she knew.

Large. Muscular. Covered in sleek fur so dark it shimmered violet in the moonlight. Each pawstep crackled the grass beneath her. Her breath fogged in the air, deeper, louder than any she’d ever known.

She turned slowly to the lake.

The moonlight danced across the surface, reflecting her.

She whimpered.

No…. No, this couldn’t be right. She…this wasn’t…

She stumbled back, her ears flattening as panic gripped her chest.

What had she become?

Then she heard it…heard her…

…Asha….

A voice like wind through the trees, like moonlight itself settling in her bones.

…I am here…

Asha’s ears perked, tail low but stilling.

…You are not lost. You are not broken. You are not alone…

She stilled completely.

…I am Skjaria. I have been waiting for this day. Bound to you the moment your breath returned, called forth by the light of the moon. You are not only wolf…not only woman. You are more…

Asha stared at her reflection. The fear began to melt.

…You are the bridge between what was…and what must be….

Tears welled in her eyes, impossibly large, shining violet in her lupine form.

…The goddess chose you. And now… we rise together…

Asha lowered her head to the earth.

And for the first time in her life…

She felt whole.

***

The field still buzzed with energy.

Cheers echoed across the grass as George accepted embraces and handshakes, his arm still bound in ceremonial cloth, his face stunned but proud. The moon above shone like a spotlight, unwavering. Blessings from the crowd rang out, joy spilling in every direction.

But Kaelen barely heard any of it.

Something else tugged at him.

He stepped away silently, unnoticed among the tide of celebration. His steps were calm, steady, but his heart beat with a purpose older than any coronation.

A whisper had returned.

Not a voice he could name, not in the human tongue, but a pull from within, old and sacred.

They’re here…

Kaelen paused at the edge of the crowd and turned toward the trees.

The moment Asha’s eyes had flashed violet beneath the moonlight, something deep inside him had awakened. That vision from so long ago had returned with startling clarity. He’d seen it only once, the night he made his pact with the Moon Goddess.

He’d stood on sacred ground beneath the silver light, his hands cut open over ancient stone, swearing his soul to her will.

And in return, she gave him a vision.

A moon cloaked in shadow.

A pair of glowing violet eyes.

“Protect her. The one who dies to live. The shadow born under my light. She will rise when the moon remembers.”

He’d carried that memory like a buried seed, hidden beneath centuries of silence and duty.

Until tonight.

He moved faster now, guided not by logic but by instinct. The air had shifted, and the earth still hummed beneath his feet. Power ancient and sacred still reverberated in the soil like an echo after thunder.

Kaelen crossed into the woods.

Find her. You must see. He must remember.

The Goddess’s whispers had returned to him stronger than they had in years, in turn giving him strength he hadn’t felt in centuries. Her presence was unmistakable.

He’d spent centuries watching, waiting, guarding a truth none remembered. Not even the king. The girl had lived in plain sight, unknowingly carrying the threads of prophecy in her veins.

And now, the threads were unraveling.

Kaelen’s eyes sharpened, glowing faintly as he drew on the pact to heighten his senses.

The scent was faint, but it was hers.

He pressed forward, deeper into the forest, toward the lake.

Whatever happened next… he would bear witness.

As he had sworn.

As was his purpose.

The trees thinned as Kaelen neared the lake’s edge. The moonlight pooled over the surface like liquid silver, unnaturally still. A hush had fallen across the forest, every creature holding its breath.

Then ripples form in the water.

One. Two. Three.

The water stirred, not from wind, but from something deeper. The world around him thrummed again, low and resonant, like the heartbeat of the earth responding to something sacred.

His breath caught.

Just ahead, he saw her.

Asha.

Collapsed on all fours, back arched, fingers clawing at the ground as her body shifted with an agonizing beauty. Her limbs elongated, bones snapping and realigning. Her cry was silent, her voice caught between human and divine. Amethyst fur burst along her spine, her ribs cracked outward, and her breath came in gasps.

She fell forward, and the forest shook with the sound of her landing.

Then… fur sprouted all over her.

Kaelen stepped closer, reverent, eyes wide.

Asha stood in full Lycan form, massive, elegant, ethereal. Her coat shimmered amethyst in the moon-kissed night sky. She stepped to the lake, gaze locked on her reflection. Fear flickered in her body language, her muscles coiled.

Do not fear, child.

Kaelen wants to soothe her, but could feel it even without hearing it, Skjaria was speaking to her. The ancient Lycan soul bound to the prophecy was awake.

Looking at the full moon shining bright, so was she, the moon goddess.

For centuries, Kaelen had waited for this.

He’d grown old with the knowledge that he might never see the prophecy fulfilled. That his oath to the Goddess would remain unfinished. That the bloodline she bade him protect might never awaken.

But here she stood. Flesh and spirit. Born once in death, reborn by moonlight.

The moon remembers… and the Lycans shall rise again.

Tears pricked his eyes.

It begins.

Kaelen closed his eyes and opened his mind.

…Ashavar…

He reached out across the bond to the King granted only to those chosen by the Goddess.

…I will meet you at the guesthouse. Bring your Beta. There is much to discuss…

***

The night air was crisp as Ashavar and Eric walked side by side along the path leading back to their guesthouse. The forest around them rustled gently, but the king’s mind was elsewhere.

Eric was still talking.

“…And really, how hard is it to stay focused for one ceremony without thinking of your next meal brute? Or was it a certain she-wolf?”

Ashavar gave him a sideways glare, but the smile tugged at his lips regardless.

“She looked like someone I’ve seen before,” he said softly. “The woman from my dreams, the cliff. Wind tearing through her hair like threads of night. Her dress was blue, like the sea before a storm.”

Eric raised an eyebrow. “You mean to tell me the woman you have seen and was obsessed with for centuries is real? Oh, that’s not dramatic at all.”

Ashavar chuckled, but then stopped.

So did Eric.

They froze mid-step.

A wave hit them. Not physically, but energetically. A surge of power so immense it nearly forced Ashavar to his knees. The air thickened, charged with something raw and ancient.

The King’s smile vanished.

His Lycan stirred violently beneath his skin.

Eric’s hand went to the blade at his side. “Did you feel that?”

“I did,” Ashavar murmured, scanning the horizon. “I have never felt a pulse like that before. That power, something is here.”

His pulse thundered. For the first time in centuries, he felt an immense power that made him shiver. This power he felt didn’t come from a wolf, it came from something older. Much older.

His wolf snarled, not in rage, but in…recognition?

Before either could move…

…Ashavar…

The voice touched his mind like a warm breeze, but Elder Kaelen’s voice was serious and weighted.

…I will meet you at the guesthouse. Bring your Beta. There is much to discuss…

Ashavar met Eric’s eyes. “We move. Now.”

Whatever was coming… it had already begun.

Chapter 17

The guesthouse was quiet. Tucked against the edge of the woods and lit only by the soft flicker of candlelight, it felt more like a temple than temporary lodging. Ashavar pushed the door open without knocking, Kaelen had been waiting for him.

The Elder stood near the hearth, one hand resting on the mantle, the other clutching the moonstone pendant around his neck. His eyes were distant, the weight of ages pressing into the lines of his face.

Eric stepped in behind Ashavar, and the door shut with a soft click.

Kaelen turned slowly. “You felt it.”

Ashavar nodded once. “Like a wave across the soul.”

Eric crossed his arms. “What was it? The witches? Another creature? I’ve never felt such a powerful surge like that, not even like when Nina and Clara were awakened.”

Kaelen studied them both for a long moment, then walked to a small carved chest against the far wall, one Kaelen travels with often. He opened it carefully and removed a worn, leather-wrapped bundle. Unrolling it on the low table between them, he revealed ancient parchment marked in ink faded by centuries and symbols that glowed faintly under the moonlight filtering through the window.

He pointed to a single line, circled in silver:“When the moon heeds the cries of her children, her shadow shall rise and lead them back to the light.”

Ashavar felt the words in his chest.

“The lost prophecy,” he murmured.

Kaelen nodded. “The one known only to the Goddess’s chosen. I received it in a vision, many lifetimes ago. I took an oath to protect her bloodline, to protect her. Tonight, that oath came full circle.”

He lifted his gaze, sharp and glowing faintly.

“Her name is Asha.”

Silence fell like a blade.

Ashavar didn’t move. Didn’t blink.Something shifted, not just in the room, but in him.Deep. Primal. Eternal.

His breath caught in his throat.

“Asha,” he repeated, barely audible.

The syllables were ancient in his mouth. Like dust shaken from the bones of memory. His Lycan stirred beneath his skin, not with anger or hunger, but reverence. A low growl curled in his chest, not from threat… but recognition.

Asha.

The name echoed through the bond he didn’t yet fully understand, humming against the very marrow of his being. As if the moon herself had whispered it to him in a forgotten dream.

His knees nearly buckled, and his mark glows faintly for the first time in centuries.

His eyes flash blood orange, Kor is trying to take over for the first time since that night, the only time throughout the centuries.

Eric stepped forward. “Ash, you good?”

Ashavar’s hands clenched at his sides and jaw locked tight holding back his Lycan.

“Yes… So she is the shadow,” he said, voice hoarse with awe. “The one the moon hid. And now… she’s awake.”

Kaelen nodded solemnly. “Your Lycan has begun to stir. You felt her shift, I’m sure so did every living being across the packlands.”

Ashavar closed his eyes, the weight of fate pressing down on him with crushing intensity. But beneath it, something rose, steady, quiet, sure.

Hope.

The prophecy wasn’t myth. It was alive, and she bore its name.

“She is the one the Goddess revived, born still, but pulled back from death just after midnight and she was granted breath again. Her wolf did not surface with her but later on. Then, it was waiting, guarded, hidden. Until the moon called. The coven must be alive, with followers scattered still. The attack on the pack 19 years ago killing the Luna, was because she was pregnant with a girl. Not knowing another with alpha blood was within the pack, even to her, and she carried the child from the prophecy. They were attempting to stop the only piece of the prophecy they were able to get a hold of all that time ago. They probably attained it because of Elena when she was in the palace.”

Ashavar lays a hand on Kaelen’s shoulder for a moment, letting him know again it wasn’t his fault she betrayed the kingdom.

Eric’s brow furrowed. “You’re saying she’s?”

“She’s not just a wolf, I don’t think she ever was meant to be one, or even a simple Lycan.” Kaelen said. “She’s the Lycan, I don’t believe its a simple rebirth, but a reincarnation. The first since the fall of the old realm. She didn’t just shift tonight, she awakened a celestial bond, a moon blessed rebirth.”

Eric says in awe, “The power we felt… it was hers.”

“Yes,” Kaelen whispered. “And it is only the beginning.”

Silence fell.

The fire crackled, small and ancient-feeling in the hush.

Eric ran a hand through his hair. “Does she know?”

Kaelen shook his head. “Not yet, but she will. Her Lycan is awake now. The soul the Goddess merged with her at her rebirth. I could swear though, that I have heard of that power before….”

Ashavar leaned back, exhaling deeply. The image of her hair like the void and eyes like starlight rose again in his mind, distracting him from Kaelen’s last statement.

“Then we don’t have time,” he said shaking away the image. “If the prophecy is waking, others will sense it too. The coven.”

Kaelen nodded solemnly. “Agreed. The moment she stepped into that form, the balance began to shift. We must guide her, protect her. The witches will know they failed to stop the prophecy and reign down on this pack, we must call for back up if it isn’t already too late. The Goddess chose her to lead the rise of the Lycans and the restoration of the bond to the moon. But she cannot do it alone.”

Ashavar stood. “Then we begin preparations immediately. She will need training, protection, guidance…”

He paused, a strange emotion settling over him like gravity.

Kaelen’s eyes sparkled faintly. “That may be why the Goddess gave her your face in dreams.”

Ashavar’s breath caught, she saw, me?

Kaelen explains how she would have received visions same as he, bringing each other together for this day.

“You don’t think, she is my mate, do you?”

Eric just groaned softly. “Oh great. You are the dramatic fated-mate type.”

Ashavar smirked faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His gaze was already turning to the night beyond the window.

To the girl in the trees.

To the future she had just awakened.

***

The last of the honored guests have begun their departure, lanterns flickering through the trees as pack members bid farewells and laughed in the wake of the powerful ceremony. The moon, still full and proud, hung like an ever watchful sentinel over the clearing.

Then without warning, the wind changed, not a simple breeze or shift in temperature.

It was a pull, a howl in the air itself. Branches snapped, flames of the torches guttered and died. An eerie silence sweeping over the land.

And then, snarls, screams, and smell of, blood.

Rogues flooding in from every direction.

The King hears the sounds and growls, “No…”

He shoots up and rushes over to the window and gasp, from the window he helplessly watches as the rogues pour in and start attacking everyone and anything in sight. Wild-eyed and frenzied, moving in unnatural synchronicity. They didn’t act like typical rogues, these wolves moved as if being controlled.

Ned was the first to shift, his roar rising above the chaos as he charged through the crowd of rogues. George, not too far behind joins his battle cry as he runs into chaos of his first battle as Alpha. Farah joining in next to him, shifting for the first time since the night they marked each other. Jason on George’s right tears into a rogue that tried to reach for his throat. Amy, the previous Gamma, is still full of her need to protect her pack. Garrett at Amy’s flank keeps her safe in her blindspots from any who gets too close.

Surprisingly, Rowan, who watched the ceremony from afar, hesitant to join after what he’d done and still with no real title, tackled a rogue that had slipped through George’s defense and almost had Farah, killing it instantly. George thanks him in the mindlink as they all tear through rogues one by one, but more stampede through the forest.

…There’s too many!!… Amy screams to Ned in a mindlink.

…Where’s Asha?? And where is the king?!…

Overhead, the clouds thickened, not with storm, but with shadow. A dull, red gleam flickered through the sky.

***

Asha stood at the lake, amethyst paws trembling with awe. Her breath came in soft bursts, each one still foreign to this new form. Her reflection rippled as the moon’s glow danced across the water’s surface.

Then her body stiffened. Her ears twitched.

A scream echoed from the direction of the packhouse.

She turned and ran. The wind pushed past her fur, carrying the scent of blood, fire, and something else, something rotten.

Skjaria’s voice surged within her.

…They come for us. For the power that awakened tonight. They felt our rise. And they mean to silence it….

Asha’s pulse quickened. Her claws flexed into the earth. Her instinct screamed to run, but not away.

…Your destiny begins now…

…You are not prey. You are the storm they feared would rise….

She turned back once to the lake, to the girl she had been, and then bolted toward the packhouse, her limbs stretching like lightning over the forest floor.

***

Kaelen, Ashavar, and Eric burst from the guesthouse just as another explosion of dark mist engulfed the northern edge of the territory. A figure cloaked in black, with green eyes like putrid acid, stood at its center.

Ashavar’s voice was low. “This is no rogue raid.”

Kaelen narrowed his eyes. “No. They’re here.”

Chapter 18

Ashavar, now fully alert, stood on the steps of the guesthouse with Eric and Elder Kaelen beside him. The unnatural wind had stilled, just long enough for the world to notice the silence.

Then a snap echoed across the clearing.

A single figure emerged from the shadowed veil of mist, her steps deliberate, heels clicking against stone as if mocking the gravity of the night. She moved with regal grace, clad in dark, shimmering robes that pulsed with faint red sigils. Her hair was blood-red, cascading over one shoulder, and her skin pale as bone, but her lips, stained black, curved in a cruel smirk.

Her eyes glowed a sickening green, but it was the power that bled off her that made Eric flinch. Magic, potent and vile, coiled around her like a living thing.

“So this is the grand welcome?” she purred, voice sweet and poisonous. “A prince, a ghost of an elder, and a forgotten king?”

Kaelen’s lips thinned. “Hexa.”

Ashavar stepped forward slowly. “High Priestess of the Bloodshade Coven. I should have known you were still alive.”

She smiled wider at the sound of her title.

“You flatter me, King of Dust. But I’ve not come to trade pleasantries. I’ve come to collect what should never have risen.”

Ashavar’s body tensed. “You felt her.”

“Of course I did. The moment her power awakened, it echoed through every leyline, every whisper of magic across this rotting realm. You and your goddess have made a grave mistake, letting that girl breathe.”

“But don’t worry,” Hexa continued, cocking her head. “We’ll snuff her out. Her, and the rest of you stragglers holding onto a forgotten era. Then the moon will fall into shadow, and we” she spread her arms, and the shadows behind her quivered like a breathing beast. “We will rise in her place.”

Eric growled. “The Lycans will never fall to you.”

“Lycans?” she laughed. “There are six of you left, you are nothing but relics, dust and desperation wrapped in flesh. But go ahead…”

Her voice dropped to a whisper, thick with venom and delight.“Try and stop me.”

With a flick of her wrist, the wind shrieked once more and from every shadow surrounding the packhouse, her forces surged.

***

On the other side of the field, the ground splits beneath Ned’s boots as another pulse of putrid rogue energy tears through the field. He bares his teeth, claws already slick with blood, as he throws a massive dirt-furred rogue off his back and slammed it into a nearby oak.

George fought just behind him, fire in his eyes and the strength of a rising Alpha in every motion. He’d never fought a real battle before, never had to. But tonight, the boy was gone. Every strike of his claws, every growl that tore from his throat, it all sang of instinct, of command, of something ancient beginning to awaken inside him.

Ned caught a glimpse of Amy further down the slope, her gray wolf a blur of fury as she intercepted two rogues gunning for the families trying to flee toward the safehouse. Her strikes were surgical, deadly, protective. She didn’t care about victory. She cared about her own.

Farah fought like a cornered fox, fast and fierce, her wolf in full force after being awakened during their mating ceremony. Jason stayed near her, his strength a wall between her and the enemies who thought her an easy target. Together, they held the left flank just barely.

“GEORGE!” Ned barked, catching the boy mid-strike, “THEY’RE TRYING TO FLANK FROM THE NORTH GO!”

George didn’t hesitate. “On it!” he shouted, bolting into the dark with three warriors on his heels.

Ned turned back toward the heart of the field then froze.

Out of the darkness strode a woman cloaked in swirling shadows. The witch. The one he’d seen only in flashes of prophecy, in the reports from border scouts, in stories so old they felt more like nightmares than truth.

Her voice cut through the clash of battle like a blade.

“So brave. So united. So foolish.”

Ned growled low, muscles rippling as he stepped forward. “Hexa.”

She grinned, wicked and unshaken, as her hands lifted. Magic coiled like snakes from her fingers, pulsing toward the heart of the fight.

“Where is she?” Hexa called to no one in particular. “Where’s your little miracle? She doesn’t even know what she is, does she?”

Jason’s head snapped toward her at the same moment Amy skidded to a stop beside Ned, fur bristling, blood on her muzzle.

“She’s not yours to touch,” Amy snarled, shifting back to human form mid-step, blood-smeared and shaking with fury.

Hexa’s smile widened. “We’ll see about that mutt, you escaped from me once, but I wont let you this time.”

She raised her hands, green smoke falling from her fingertips, they enter the bodies of the fallen rogues, and they rise.

Once red-eyed rogues are now green, snarling and emanating a green smoke off their bodies.

“Their minds and souls are gone but the power of their bodies is mine!” Hexa’s cackling laugh is heard throughout the field.

The risen rogues attack and they are much fiercer and won’t go down! Amy manages to rip off a piece of ones shoulder, the taste in her mouth, rancid, and the wolf didn’t flinch.

“They feel no pain, only follow orders. This was how I destroyed you mutts all that time ago. You, and the Lycans you put on a pedestal as the leaders of the realm. I say I should lead, and you all should follow my bidding.”

Then we hear him, the thundering paws of the largest supernatural being in this realm. The Lycan King.

He stands at the top of the hill, howling to the night sky, a warning that the battle has just begun.

“IT IS TOO LATE ASHAVAR! IT IS TIME FOR THE WITCHES TO RULE THIS REALM!! The Lycans will soon be no more and your precious Goddess can weep in silence for all eternity. The dark has given us our power now.”

Just as he gets ready to pounce, another howl sounds in the distance, and everything goes silent, everyone stops fighting, not a sound is heard, except for her.

Ashavar feels it, a ripple of warmth spread through him as he looks to the treeline.

As the eerie silence falls over the battlefield, the winds whip through the trees, carrying with them an energy so palpable, so strong, it shakes the very ground beneath them. The moon, high above, casts a silvery glow over everything, its light now brighter than ever, as if responding to the sudden surge of power in the air.

And then, from the depths of the forest, another howl rises. It’s sharp, commanding, and unmistakable. The sound reverberates through the hearts of every warrior, every fighter, like a summons from the very soul of the land itself.

Asha steps out from the trees, her form illuminated by the moonlight, her eyes glowing with a fierce violet hue. The air around her crackles with raw power, as though the universe itself had bent to her presence. Her transformation is complete. She stands, no longer the girl who had only dreamed of something greater, now, she is the force that will shape the fate of the realm.

And now, both of them here in full form, Ashavar feels what he has only dreamt of ever knowing for centuries as Kor says the word that would change their lives forever.

…Mate…

Hexa’s laughter falters, the confidence in her voice evaporating. “What is this?” she sneers, her eyes narrowing as she looks toward Asha, who stands before her, every muscle tensed, her claws gleaming in the moonlight.

Asha and Skjaria’s voice rings out in every mind of every being on the field, a calm but resolute command, “The Lycans will never fall. Not while I stand. And the moon’s light will always shine.”

Her words are like a challenge, and as she speaks, the ground beneath her feet trembles, the air thick with magic. Skjaria’s amethyst fur begins to shimmer faintly beneath the moon’s gaze.

Hexa’s face twists into a mask of fury. “You cannot stop what is already in motion. You are just a pawn, a misguided child playing at a destiny you don’t understand.” She raises her hands once more, green smoke swirling around her. “You, and your precious Lycans, will fall just like the rest of them.”

Skjaria steps forward, her eyes locked on Hexa, the air around her crackling with the energy of the moon. “I’m no pawn. And I’ll prove it.”

Asha launches herself toward Hexa, claws flashing in the moonlight. Hexa raises her hands again, sending a wave of green energy to intercept, but it dissipates on impact, unable to hold against the raw force that barrels toward her.

Asha’s paw slams into the ground just feet away from the witch, sending a ripple of light from Skjaria out to the entire field. The shockwave knocks Hexa backward. She tumbles, landing in a crouch, her lips curled into a snarl.

All around the field, one by one, every undead rogue drops. The green smoky halo around them dispersed, eyes burnt away.

Hexa screeches “NO!!”

Green mist rises around her to create a shield, but it’s flickering, unstable. Her eyes widen, not in pain, but in realization.

Skjaria has a symbol on her chest, a shadow moon.

“You…” she spits, breathing heavy, voice low speaking to herself. “You’re not what the other oracles said you’d be, you, you shouldn’t be here….”

Asha stalks forward, each step radiating strength and power. The warriors behind her begin to rally, inspired by her presence. The Lycan King, snarling from the hill, his beast form, a titan of onyx black fur as an all seeing guardian to all below.

Hexa hesitates, then snarls, “This changes nothing! One flicker of power doesn’t make you chosen, just dangerous. And I know how to deal with dangerous things.”

She slams her hands together, green fire spiraling around her legs like smoke. With a cry of frustration and fury, she disappears in a vortex of emerald flame, leaving behind the reanimated rogues, which now fall lifeless to the ground like puppets with cut strings.

The field falls still.

Ashavar shifts back slowly, eyes scanning the place Hexa once stood.

…She’ll be back. Next time, with more…

Asha stands motionless for a moment, her breath heavy, heart pounding. Skjaria’s voice is calm in her mind. …You did well. But this is only the beginning, child. Now, they all know who you truly are…

Behind them, Ned, Amy, George, Farah, and Jason regroup, bloody but alive. They stare at Asha, now in her shifted form, glowing faintly under the moonlight, and for the first time… they see her. All of her.

She was no ordinary girl anymore, but a Lycan.

Chapter 19

The battlefield was still.

Bodies of rogues lay scattered, those who remained fled when the moon itself seemed to cry out in warning, but Asha didn’t notice, her limbs trembled. The last surge of power that had coursed through her had left her hollowed out, breathless.

The moment her paws hit the earth in victory, the adrenaline drained from her. Her body, unaccustomed to the divine force it had just wielded, began to fade. Asha stumbled. Her vision blurred. She felt warmth in her chest and along her spine, and then, nothing.

Her body shimmered under the moonlight, the amethyst fur receding, her bones shifting back to their normal size and place, muscles softened to a young woman’s instead of a mystical beast. As her human form returned, moonlight wrapped around her like silk, and a violet dress bloomed into existence across her skin. Woven of moonlight and magic, the color of dusk before nightfall. Its fabric shimmered like starlight, delicate and eternal, marking her not just as Lycan, but as something more.

She sways, and collapses into the grass.

Ashavar stood frozen, his breath had caught the moment he saw her shift, the moment the power of her being surged through the field and echoed in his soul like an ancient call.

He had dreamed of her for years, shadowed eyes under a silver moon, raven-black hair whipping in the wind, piercing violet eyes, and now she was here. Real. Tangible.

He descended the slope in slow steps, reverent, afraid if he moved too fast she’d vanish again like smoke.

Asha lay unconscious, her starlit dress glowing faintly in the grass. Her hair fanned out around her like a halo of night. Gently, Ashavar knelt and lifted her into his arms.

And the world changed.

A wave of energy surged through him, like fireworks beneath his skin, but softer, deeper. Sparks lit up every point where her skin brushed his. It wasn’t pain, it was peace, recognition. Like the final note of a song finally struck after centuries of silence.

His heart thundered and his eyes glowed blood-orange, his wolf rising with a growl so deep and ancient it echoed through every part of him.

“Mine,” he whispered, but the wolf roared louder.

“MATE.”

The trees stilled. The wind hushed. The moon glowed brighter, as if bearing witness.

He looked down at her again, Asha, the girl who was no longer just a girl. A reborn Lycan.

And for the first time in his long life, Ashavar felt afraid.

Afraid of what this meant.

Afraid of what she would become.

Afraid of how much he already knew he would risk for her.

Ashavar barely took a step before a growl cut through the air, low, sharp, laced with fury and possession.

“Put. Her. Down.”

He turned, eyes narrowing. From the treeline emerged a figure, Rowan. Disheveled, bloodied, but burning with purpose. His wolf simmered just beneath the surface, his breath heavy with rage and disbelief.

Ashavar didn’t move. He simply adjusted his grip on Asha, protective but gentle, cradling her like something irreplaceable.

“She’s mine,” Rowan growled, stepping closer. “You don’t get to touch her. I felt her before any of this. Before she became… this.”

Ashavar’s expression didn’t shift, but his presence intensified. He stood tall, his aura wrapping the clearing in heat and power. “You felt a girl. I felt my mate. The difference is everything.”

Rowan flinched. “I don’t care who you are or what throne you sit on. She’s not property. She’s not a trophy you can lift from the ashes of battle and claim as yours.”

Ashavar’s eyes flicked to the unconscious Asha in his arms. “Do not mistake my reverence for conquest. I knew her soul before you knew her name. The moon herself carved this bond.”

Rowan’s fists trembled. “I chose her when no one else did. When she was alone, broken, and cast aside by everyone who saw her as less than. You didn’t fight beside her. You didn’t love her before she became this symbol of prophecy.”

Ashavar finally looked at Rowan, really looked. Not with the authority of a king, but with the weight of a man torn between fate and empathy.

“I dreamt of her for centuries before she took a breath. I have waited lifetimes to find what now rests in my arms. And still…” he paused, voice softer now, “I do not seek to take her from you. I only seek to stand with her.”

Rowan’s breath caught, rage warred with pain in his eye.

“You say that,” he muttered, “but everything about you feels like a threat.”

Ashavar’s gaze hardened. “Only to those who think love gives them ownership.”

For a moment, only the wind moved, whispering through the trees, curling around their raw emotions like fingers of fate.

Then, Rowan lowered his head, just slightly. Not in surrender, but in temporary silence.

“She’ll wake,” he said finally. “And she’ll choose.”

Ashavar nodded. “Yes. She will.”

And beneath the moon’s gaze, the two stood, warrior and king, fire and stone. Both unwilling to back down, both tethered to the same girl whose future was now a storm only she could command.

The night air shifted once again.

Heavy footsteps approached from the smoke-dusted path leading to the packhouse.

The Elder emerged, he paused, gaze sweeping over the battlefield. The charred earth, the wounded, the stunned silence that followed Asha’s transformation.

Then his eyes found them.

The King. The boy. And the girl, cradled like the sacred flame she now was.

He exhaled, voice deep and resolute.

“So it’s true…” he murmured, more to the moon than to any of them. “Light and shadow have become one.”

Ashavar turned to face him fully, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly at the sight of the Elder. Rowan stiffened again, eyes flicking from the king to the robed man who had spoken the words as if from an ancient scroll.

The Elder stepped forward slowly, reverently. “I felt it the moment it happened. The old wards cracked. The wind carried her name. The wolves of the celestial realm stirred.”

He looked at Asha, and his voice softened.

“She is more than prophecy now. She is the turning tide.”

Before either man could speak, another voice rang out, urgent, emotional.

“Rowan!”

Farah, newly appointed Luna, pushed through the scattered survivors, blood streaked on her arms, panic in her eyes. She stepped between him and the King, planting herself firmly in the middle of the rising storm.

“This isn’t the time,” she said, breathless but determined. “Rowan, I know how you feel, but this, this won’t help her. None of this will.”

Rowan clenched his jaw, torn.

Farah turned to the Elder. “She’s barely conscious. We need to get her to the clinic, and the others too, there are people bleeding out while you two stand here like stone statues.”

The Elder gave her a knowing nod. “You speak true Luna Farah. The time for answers will come. But right now, the living need tending.”

He turned to Ashavar. “Royal Gamma Elias is en-route with soldiers that will stay here to protect the pack. The skies are still not safe. We must move her and regroup.”

Ashavar looked down at Asha’s face, peaceful despite the magic still shimmering around her skin. Then he nodded once.

“I’ll take her,” he said quietly, and with care, he began walking down the hillside, carrying Asha toward safety.

Rowan didn’t follow. Not yet. He remained at the ridge, fists still shaking, his heart raging with conflict.

Farah stayed by his side, placing a hand on his arm.

“She’ll wake up,” she said gently, “and she’ll know what’s right.”

The Elder watched them for a moment longer, then turned his gaze to the moon. It was still full. Still watching.

But now, its light seemed warmer. As if hope had finally returned to the realm… in the form of a girl with amethyst fur.

The clinic doors swung open with a burst of unnatural wind, and the scent of smoke and blood still clung to their skin and clothes as Ashavar entered first, cradling Asha in his arms.

The violet glow of her conjured dress shimmered faintly in the sterile lights above, like the last flicker of a dying star. Her body, though unconscious, was still humming with the aftershocks of divine power, each breath slow but strong, steady.

A nurse rushed forward but stopped short, her eyes wide at the sight of the Lycan King, at the girl who looked like something out of myth. Ashavar said nothing, his jaw tight as he gently lowered Asha onto the cushioned medical bed. His hands hovered at her sides, reluctant to let go.

The room filled slowly, one by one to catch a glimpse of what’s happening to the girl. Eric, ever stoic at his king’s side, the Elder, his robes torn and dirt-smeared but his eyes alight with something deeper than concern, conviction. Ned, Amy, and George entered last, bloodied and weary but held together by the thread of disbelief tying them all.

The moment froze in silence.

Then Ned spoke, his voice graveled by smoke and strain. “What the hell just happened out there?”

George stood beside the table, staring at Asha with wide, guilt-shadowed eyes. “Those things… those rogues, she brought them back. The witch, Hexa, she raised the dead.”

Amy clenched her fists at her sides. “They didn’t feel any pain. I tore through one’s shoulder and it barely reacted, it just kept coming. That wasn’t a wolf, that was something else.”

“Necromancy,” the Elder murmured, drawing the attention of the room. “Twisted, ancient magic, one the covens promised never to use again after the Great Fracture. Hexa has broken that oath.”

Eric looked between them all. “So who is she? What does she want? Why now?”

Ashavar remained silent, but the Elder stepped forward, voice low and deliberate.

“Hexa was once a seer, one of the highest among the coven. She sought power not just through magic, but through prophecy. When she discovered the ancient texts about the Shadow Moon, she believed herself to be its vessel. She misread them, on purpose, I think. She thought she was chosen to lead this realm.”

“But she wasn’t,” Amy said quietly.

“No,” the Elder confirmed. “The prophecy didn’t name her. It spoke of the one born of both realms, of divine flame and earthly blood. A child of loss, death, and rebirth. That was Asha.”

George took a step back, shaking his head. “But she was just a kid. Just Asha, until tonight…”

“She died the night she was born,” Amy said, voice soft but steady. “And something brought her back.”

Ashavar turned finally, his voice gravelly with held emotion. “The moon goddess.”

Everyone fell silent again.

Amy’s eyes widened. “You saw her?”

“I saw her,” Ashavar said, looking at Asha. “Every night since I was twelve, the night Kor came to me, I’ve dreamt of Asha. She would stand in the mist on the edge of a cliff, in a midnight blue dress of stars, looking at the water. I thought it was madness… but tonight, it all made sense. There was one night, I dreamt of her as a child and the moon goddess together.”

“She’s the one from the prophecy,” the Elder confirmed. “The light and shadow reunited. The one who will break the curse and bring the Lycans back to the realm.”

“But Hexa knows that now,” Eric said grimly. “She didn’t come to conquer. She came to kill.”

“And failed,” Ned growled, crossing his arms. “But she’ll try again.”

Amy brushed her hand gently over Asha’s hair. “Why now, though? What changed?”

The Elder lowered himself onto a bench, rubbing his hands together. “The goddess has been silent for generations, pulling back from the wolves when we grew corrupt and disloyal. The war centuries ago is when it began. When Ned’s mate was killed, when her father turned away from his bond, when the sacred line was fractured… she severed her connection even more. And yet, tonight, she returned it all. Through Asha.”

George looked down, swallowing hard. “So everything we thought we knew… was wrong?”

“No,” the Elder said, looking up at him. “Everything we feared was right.”

Ashavar’s voice broke the quiet again, low and edged with a dangerous calm. “Hexa said the darkness gave them their power. That the moon will weep in silence when we fall. She’s not just trying to win. She’s trying to unmake the balance. Destroy the light so there’s no hope of its return.”

Eric’s eyes narrowed. “She wants to rule a world without order. One ruled by fear.”

“And she’ll do it,” Amy said, “if Asha doesn’t survive this.”

Ashavar turned to face them, the room catching the faint shimmer of his blood-orange eyes in the low light. “She will survive. I’ll protect her. We all will.”

The Elder nodded slowly. “Then we prepare, because this was only the beginning.”

As everyone turned their attention to Asha once more, her breathing calm, her skin glowing faintly with stardust, none of them spoke the fear clawing at the backs of their minds.

That they were too late.

That Hexa had already begun something far worse than war.

That this girl, their light, their hope… would awaken to a world already burning.

Chapter 20

The forest trembled with fury.

A tree groaned and splintered under Rowan’s claws, its trunk cracking violently before toppling with a thunderous crash. Birds scattered from the canopy, and the earth seemed to vibrate beneath his feet. He didn’t care.

Another tree. Another roar. Another branch ripped free and hurled into the shadows.

The scent of moss and blood clung to him, but it was the scent of her…..faint, fading, touched by moonlight and something divine that burned through his mind.

“She’s mine,” he growled to no one, eyes with golden specks now, and glowing with fury. “She’s mine!”

“I don’t think she heard you over the screaming trees,” Farah said calmly, stepping into the clearing with Garrett at her side.

Rowan turned sharply, his chest rising and falling like a caged beast’s. His lips curled back, and for a second, neither was sure if he would speak or shift again.

Farah didn’t flinch. “We get it. You’re pissed. Confused. But this isn’t helping her. Or you.”

“She didn’t choose him,” Rowan snapped. “She didn’t even get the chance. He just, claimed her. Like she was some reward from the gods.”

“She’s not a reward,” Garrett said firmly. “She’s a person. And she just saved all our asses. If you really care about her, maybe don’t ruin the only part of the forest she actually likes.”

Rowan dropped the heavy branch still clutched in his hands. His fingers were shaking. “I felt the bond. I thought…I was so sure.”

“I believe you,” Farah said gently. “But that doesn’t mean the King is lying either. Maybe it’s not just a simple bond anymore. Maybe nothing about Asha ever was.”

Garrett paused, his head suddenly snapping up. His eyes narrowed, glowing faintly silver. “Wait.”

Rowan turned. “What?”

“Amy mind-linked me, nurses said she will be okay, just exhausted from the shift most likely, using powers during her first shift didn’t help either. ”

Farah let out a sigh of relief, a hand pressed to her chest. “Then we don’t have time for you to keep smashing your feelings into trees.”

Rowan exhaled roughly. His anger hadn’t vanished, but the fire of it dulled beneath the rush of worry. He looked toward the distant lights of the clinic.

“She’ll wake up, let’s go.” Garrett said, already shifting into a sleek, pale gray wolf. Farah followed suit, her golden-blonde wolf brushing against Rowan’s leg.

He stood still for a moment longer, fists clenched.

He quickly shifts and he ran.

Not away from his confusion. Not toward vengeance.

But toward the one girl who had turned prophecy, life, and his heart into chaos.

The clinic’s halls were quieter than expected, too quiet, given the night’s chaos.

The white walls bore fresh scuffs, a trace of blood smeared near the emergency doors, but the air felt calm. A tension laced with hope and some old type of magic had stirred to life.

Rowan stepped through the entrance first, then Farah, the echo of their boots trailing behind them. Rowan’s jaw was tight, unreadable, while Farah walked behind him, casting glances at every closed door until they turned a corner, and there they were.

Halfway down the hall Ned stood tall, arms crossed in front of a closed door. Amy leaned silently against the wall beside him. George had taken up a seated position just outside Asha’s door further down the hall, his head in his hands, unaware of the new arrivals.

To the right down another shorter hallway, alone in the shadows of a tall window, stood the Lycan King.

Ashavar paced slowly, phone to his ear, eyes distant but sharp. His voice was low, commanding but lined with concern as he spoke into the receiver. Likely giving quiet orders or receiving updates from the royal guard. The moment he felt them, his head turned. His eyes locked on Rowan first, unreadable, then Farah.

Tension spiked like the crackle before a lightning strike, but it all shattered in an instant the moment Garrett walked in behind them.

He froze mid-step. His hand went to the wall as if something had knocked the air from his lungs. His wolf, Soren, surged to the surface with a soundless growl of recognition, rising within him so fast Garrett nearly stumbled. His mouth parted, shocked, his nose flaring.

Milk and honey.

The scent was everything and more. Sweet warmth, gentle comfort, the calling of home wrapped in divine silk.

And she was right in front of him.

Amy straightened, eyes narrowing at first at the sudden energy. But then she caught it, a scent not hers, but one that wrapped around her like a forgotten dream.

Caramel and cedarwood.

Her breath hitched, and her own wolf surged upward, claws scratching at the surface of her skin, screaming a word she hadn’t allowed herself to even consider for years.

Both of them, Garrett and Amy, spoke in unison.

“Mate.”

The word echoed down the hallway like a crack of thunder.

George looked up at the word echoing in the hall and shot to his feet, stunned. Ned blinked hard, then narrowed his eyes, studying Garrett warily. Farah stared, stunned, while Rowan just stood motionless, tension forgotten in the sheer weight of the moment.

Amy’s lips parted again, but no words came. She looked at Garrett like the world had tilted beneath her, years of grief, betrayal, and loss suddenly colliding into the scent of someone who should not exist, and yet was meant just for her.

The air shimmered faintly around them, like the veil between old magic and new had just thinned to threadbare.

The energy was shifting again as George stepped closer.

Still reeling from Amy and Garrett’s sudden connection, the hallway filled with another wave of warmth, this one softer, sweeter. It curled around George like a blanket pulled fresh from the dryer.

His eyes blinked rapidly. He sniffed the air, heart racing.

Hot cocoa.

Thick and rich, just like his mother used to make it after she and his father’s snowy training sessions George would watch as a child. Comforting, warm, healing. It wrapped around him like a memory, like home.

Farah gasped softly as she got closer to him.

Her hand lifted slightly, hovering in the space between them.

Fresh s’mores.

Not the burnt kind, but perfectly toasted, still warm from the fire. She could taste the hint of melted chocolate and feel the soft crackle of the graham. Her wolf stirred deep within her, claws curling gently, not in aggression, but in awe.

Their eyes met.

And in that instant, they knew.

“Farah…” George whispered, his voice hoarse, thick with emotion.

“I know,” she breathed, stepping just a little closer, eyes glassy with disbelief and wonder. “I feel it, too.”

Neither needed to say the word aloud, but it hung in the air nonetheless.

Mate.

They were already mated, but this solidifies that what they felt was always meant to be, true mates.

Rowan exhaled, the tight edge in his shoulders pulling back slightly at the soft glow between them.

Kaelen, who had silently entered from the far end of the corridor, now stepped forward. The royal elder’s expression was unreadable, but his eyes… his eyes were filled with something, divine. Something awakening.

His voice carried like the roll of distant thunder.

“The prophecy is in motion,” he said solemnly.

“When the moon heeds the cries of her children, her shadow shall rise and lead them to the light.”

All eyes turned to him.

“Asha’s full awakening,” he continued, “is not only a sign of the Lycans’ return… it is healing the damage done when the goddess pulled away from us. The true mate bond, what we were meant to have, is returning. Souls will begin to scent, sense, and feel each other across distance, across bloodlines. Just as it once was, when we were whole.”

A reverent silence fell.

Then…a soft hum of energy burst through the air.

The closed door at the end of the hall pulsed faintly with violet light.

And from inside the room… a slow, shaky breath.

Ashavar was already moving, halfway to the door before anyone could stop him.

Amy, Garrett, George, Farah, even Rowan, every heart in the clinic seemed to still.

The prophecy’s shadow had risen.

And now, Asha, their light, was coming back to them.

The door creaked open slowly.

The violet glow that had once pulsed through the wood now softened into a gentle shimmer, casting faint patterns like starlight on the walls.

Amy stepped in first, heart pounding in her chest.

George and Farah followed close behind, hands linked but fingers trembling.

Rowan stood stiffly, jaw clenched.

Garrett and Ned entered last, quiet and alert.

Off to the side, the Lycan King stood tall, unreadable as always, with Eric and Elder Kaelen flanking him like shadow and flame.

And there she was.

Asha sat upright in the center of the small clinic bed, hands folded in her lap. Her breathing was slow and steady, her long dark hair falling over her shoulders in waves of ink and moonlight. Her legs crossed neatly, her posture perfect, too perfect. Her presence wasn’t that of a groggy teen just waking.

No, this was something older.

The room stilled again.

And then her eyes opened.

They were not Asha’s.

Violet, deep, endless violet, with swirling flecks of silver that moved like constellations in a night sky. Calm, calculating, aware.

Rowan took an instinctive step forward. “Asha…?”

She tilted her head. Just slightly. “I am Skjaria.”

A hush fell like a thunderclap.

Amy stepped closer. “Her… wolf?”

Skjaria gave a slow, regal nod. “Her Lycan. I have always been hers. But now you see me whole, because for the first time in generations, a Lycan has returned.”

George furrowed his brows. “Why now? Why her?”

Skjaria’s gaze moved to each of them, resting for a long moment on Farah and George, then on Rowan. “You ask why she was chosen, but it was never I who chose her. She was always destined. When Asha died the day she was born, the goddess did not let her soul pass. One day, she called me forth from the celestial realm, where I had trained in the ways of the Lycan beside the moon and her guard, and merged my soul with Asha, her original wolf staying in the celestial realm.”

“She’s died… before?” Farah’s voice was barely a whisper.

Skjaria nodded. “And the moment of her rebirth sealed her fate.”

Rowan’s voice broke through, sharp. “But why not tell her? Why keep it hidden all these years?”

“We tried,” Skjaria said gently. “Visions. Dreams. Whispers in the wind. The markings. To help her see the true strength of her spirit. But her mind…was wounded by this world. Her heart too full of rejection, pain, and confusion. She blocked out what she couldn’t understand.”

Amy’s hand went to her mouth. “The night she used her powers in the woods when she was five…”

“She almost shifted then.” Skjaria offered a solemn smile.

“That was the first time I surfaced in her. But she was not ready. Not yet. And neither were you.”

Kaelen finally stepped forward, reverent and still. “And now?”

Skjaria stood slowly, every movement laced with elegance and quiet power, and walked toward the open window, gazing at the moon. “Now… she is. The prophecy has begun. Light and shadow walk together again. And though this battle is over, our war is only just beginning.”

The king’s voice, quiet but thunderous in its depth, echoed behind them. “And what of the girl?”

Skjaria looked over her shoulder, eyes shining.

“I am her. She is me. When Asha awakens, she will remember everything. She will be stronger than you think, but she is still your Asha.”

Skjaria turned her gaze back to the group, gentler now.

“She just needs time.”

As the final word left Skjaria’s lips, her body swayed. Her eyes, those infinite violet skies, rolled back into her head. Her knees gave out.

Before she could hit the ground, the king moved, faster than anyone else in the room. One fluid motion, and she was in his arms. He held her close, cradling her with a gentleness that starkly contrasted the sharpness of his gaze.

He looked down at her, something raw flickering in his golden-orange eyes.

That was when Rowan snapped.

“What does she mean by your Asha?” he growled, stepping forward, chest heaving. “She’s supposed to be mine!”

The air grew thick with tension. Farah flinched and moved to grab his arm, but he shrugged her off, his eyes locked on the Lycan King.

Ashavar’s head lifted slowly, his expression unreadable, but it was the quiet, steady presence of Elder Kaelen who stepped between them.

“Rowan,” Kaelen said gently, placing a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I know this is not easy to accept.”

“She was mine,” Rowan spat, voice tight and trembling. “We felt something, years of something. She used to look at me like, like I mattered. How can that mean nothing?”

Kaelen’s eyes were knowing and sad for the young pup. “It wasn’t nothing, child. But the threads of fate shift with time, with power. The bond you shared may have been true in one life… but this?” He nodded toward the girl in the king’s arms, now unconscious, peaceful. “This is something deeper than destiny. This is prophecy. The realm has chosen. The goddess has chosen.”

Rowan’s voice cracked. “Then why let me believe I ever had a chance?”

Kaelen didn’t answer right away. He looked to the others, Amy, who had gone pale, George and Farah, still holding one another tightly. Garrett, silent and stunned trying to soothe his new found mate, while Ned held the wall for support.

Then he met Rowan’s gaze once more.

“Because we don’t walk the path of fate knowing its shape. We live, and love, and hope, until the path reveals itself. And now it has.”

Rowan staggered back a step. Farah touched his arm again, this time more gently, and he didn’t pull away.

Behind them, the king turned away from the scene, carrying Asha toward a bed deeper in the clinic. His every step was deliberate, protective. “She will need rest,” Kaelen said softly. “And when she wakes… she will choose.”