Chapter 21

The clinic had grown quiet. The scent of antiseptic was faint beneath the perfume of violets, earth, and warmth, the scent of her.

Asha lay still, her breathing even, chest rising and falling beneath the soft blanket. The violet glow of moonlight filtered through the window, catching the faint shimmer of her skin. Her face was calm, ethereal. As if she were dreaming still.

Ashavar sat beside her, elbows on his knees, fingers laced tightly together. He had not taken his eyes off her since placing her on the bed. The woman of his dreams, literally, for the last 700 years.

And now, she was here. Real. Tangible. Her scent grounding. Her mark…unmistakable.

He reached slowly, reverently, brushing his fingertips just above her collarbone where the fabric of her starlight dress dipped. And there it was.

The mark of the Lycan Queen.

A full moon in shadow, glowing faintly beneath her skin, mirroring the white one etched into his own chest. Two sides of a whole.

“Light and shadow walk together again,” Skjaria had said.

Was that what she meant? Him and Asha?

The realization hit him with the force of a thousand storms. Not just dreams, not just prophecy, but fate. She wasn’t just his to protect, she was his mate. His counterpart.

The one his soul had waited for through lifetimes of silence, bloodshed, and war.

Kor stirred restlessly within him, claws raking at the surface of his mind.

…Touch her. Hold her. She is ours. Ours to shield, ours to keep. No one takes what belongs to us…

Ashavar closed his eyes, exhaling a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

He wanted to claim her. To mark her skin with his teeth and name her Queen. To pull her into his arms and never let another threat near her again.

But she had only just awakened, only just remembered who she was. He would not cage her freedom in chains of possession, not after she had finally stepped into her power.

Still, the ache in his chest was unbearable. The nearness of her, the weight of her presence, the softness of her breath.

He reached out again, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

“I found you,” he whispered. “After all this time.”

And for now, that would have to be enough because love, real love, waited.

The shadow moon did not rise to burn bright in haste, it was eternal.

The faint touch on her cheek was like a spark through fog.

She was warm, held in starlight, cradled in something soft.

Asha’s breath hitched softly.

Ashavar froze the moment her lips parted with that tiny gasp.

Her eye seeming to swim below her eyelids.

She was waking.

…Eric… His voice rang through the link, calm but urgent. …Bring Alpha George…

Then he stood. He would not pressure her with his presence.

Not yet.

He stepped back, heart pounding against his ribs like war drums, just as the door opened and George stepped in.

The Alphas locked eyes, Ashavar nodding once before slipping out the door and leaving them alone.

George moved slowly, quietly, afraid any sudden movement might break the fragile moment. Asha’s lashes fluttered, and then, finally, her eyes opened. Confused, unfocused, violet and shimmering, like the sky before a storm.

“…George?” Her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

He nearly cried at the sound. “Yeah, it’s me,” he said, forcing a shaky laugh. “Welcome back, Ash.”

She blinked, trying to sit up. “What… what happened? The last thing I remember is… my reflection in the lake. My wolf.” Her hand went to her chest as if still unsure she wasn’t dreaming.

George sat beside her, careful not to crowd her. “A lot’s happened, Ash. A lot.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “You shifted, fully. Your wolf is… something else. Her name is Skjaria, and she, well, she spoke to everyone.”

Asha’s brow furrowed. “She spoke?”

“She’s a Lycan,” George said. “You are a Lycan. It’s real, it’s all real, Ash.”

He paused. “A witch named Hexa attacked, she raised the dead and they were unstoppable, we almost died. You, well, you kind of burned her magic to the ground.”

Asha stared, her lips parting in disbelief. “I… what?”

George nodded. “You glowed. Your eyes turned violet and you wiped the battlefield clean. You passed out after, but no one doubted it, you were the moon goddess’s chosen. The prophecy… it’s you.”

He hesitated, then inhaled.

“And… there’s more.”

“More?”

George bit his lip. “Look, don’t freak out. Or do, I dunno. But… the Lycan King, Ashavar, he was there. He carried you off the battlefield himself.”

He scratched his head nervously. “Turns out you’re his mate.”

Asha froze. “His what?”

“Mate. As in the mate. As in the moon-marked destined kind. And his Lycan… claimed you. Out loud. In front of everyone.”

Asha’s eyes widened.

George cleared his throat. “And then Rowan… he kind of lost it. Because he thought he was your mate. So now we’ve got two emotionally unstable supernatural males pacing outside your door, waiting for you to wake up and choose.”

She stared at him like he had grown two heads.

George gave a weak chuckle. “So, uh… no pressure.”

Asha blinked. Once. Twice.

Then stared at George like he’d just told her the moon had fallen out of the sky.

“…You’re joking.” Her voice was soft but sharp.

George held up both hands. “I wish I was. Gods, do I wish I was. But no, not joking. The King is out there, and Rowan’s practically combusting every five seconds.”

She sat still for a moment, the words spinning around her like a storm. Mate. Lycan. Skjaria. Prophecy.

It was too much. Too fast.

“I don’t remember any of that,” she whispered, placing a hand over her chest. She could feel a warmth there… pulsing. A soft thrum beneath the skin. The mark.

The shadow moon.

Her breathing quickened. “Why don’t I remember? I should remember something, anything! If I fought, if I shifted, shouldn’t I know?”

George’s expression softened. “You were… gone, Ash. Not like dead-gone. But Skjaria, she took over. She spoke to everyone, explained things. Told us she was always meant to be with you. Even said your wolf died when you did, and she is who came back to you after you came back to life. The moon goddess brought you back…both of you.”

Asha turned her face slightly, tears catching in her lashes. “And now… now I’m supposed to choose between two people who think I belong to them?”

George winced. “Well, when you put it like that…”

She gave a half-laugh, half-sob. “I never really felt anything for Rowan though. And I never even met the king before. After everything that has happened to me, is the mate bond something I can feel?”

George hesitated. “I think…you might be. Skjaria’s presence seems to have changed things. The bond, it’s returning for everyone. Not just you. The moment you shifted, others started scenting their mates again. The real bond. Garrett found his mate. And something happened with me and Farah.”

Asha looked up at him quickly. “Farah?”

George gave a sheepish smile. “Yeah, turns out our mating bond was a true mating bond, one the goddess chose.”

Her eyes widened slightly, but she smiled, a real one this time. “You’re her true mate? You guys knew that already, what’s the difference?”

He shrugged, grinning. “Hot cocoa and S’mores. That’s what we scent off each other, it’s kind of perfect. And it seems after the moon goddess dulled the mate bond, wolves tended to have a chosen mate rather than the true mate. Their wolves would create a bond with someone, and that would be as close to a true bond you could get.”

Asha let out a quiet laugh. “Wow, I always said she’d mellow you out. Who was Garrett’s mate?”

“Hey, I’m plenty mellow haha. And he will tell you himself.” George protested, then added more gently, “We can all help you figure this out, Ash. You don’t have to decide anything right now.”

Her fingers curled slightly into the blanket. “No… but I think I need to see them.”

George nodded. “I’ll tell them.” He stood, taking a deep breath. “Brace yourself. It’s about to get weird.”

As he walked to the door, Asha slowly sat up straighter, heart pounding in her chest.

A mate.

That word again.

And behind her ribs… Skjaria stirred.

Chapter 22

George walked to the door and gripped the door handle, turning to glance back at Asha one more time. “I’ll send them in, okay?”

But he didn’t even get the door fully open, just a crack.

Asha’s entire body went still.

Then it hit her.

A scent, fresh, crisp, powerful.

Storm-touched pine and something primal.

A low, guttural rumble echoed from her chest before she could stop it.

George flinched, stepping back. “Uh… Ash?”

She didn’t respond. Her eyes were wide, glowing faintly violet, and her feet were already moving. She pushed the door open without hesitation, stumbling slightly as the lingering exhaustion of her awakening tugged at her balance, but she didn’t care. Not when that scent was pulling her forward like gravity.

The hallway opened before her.

Jason who just arrived moments ago and Farah stood to the right of the door, startled as the door flew open. George moved quickly to the side as Asha stepped out barefoot, her eyes searching, blazing with recognition she couldn’t name but felt in every fiber of her being.

Rowan was closest, hope flashing in his features the moment he saw her.

“Asha,” he breathed, taking a step forward, a smile already blooming on his lips.

But then he stopped, the air was still, silent.

His smile soon faded, he felt…nothing.

No pull. No spark. No bond.

Just a memory of something that had slipped through his fingers.

And behind him, Ashavar stood frozen.

His blood orange eyes lifted slowly, cautiously, until they met hers.

And the world stopped.

The scent that drowned Asha’s senses was now mirrored by the one hitting him like a tidal wave.

Lavender and ocean salt.

His chest burned where his light moon mark glowed fiercely through his shirt.

Her eyes reflected the same awe, the same devastation, the same recognition.

The full shadow moon shimmered over her heart, radiant and undeniable.

Power surged between them, invisible yet overwhelming, everyone around them felt it, like a warm wind pressing against their chests.

Asha took a single step forward.

Then Ashavar did the same.

Again.

And again.

Like magnets, like fate rewinding the world to correct itself until their bodies touched.

And in the silence, as time itself bowed before them, they spoke the word in unison with their Lycans.

“Mate.”

A hum vibrated through the air, deep and resonant.

Jason and Farah gasped, eyes wide as their knees gave way.

George gripped the wall for balance.

Even Rowan stumbled back a step, his wolf howling in denial inside him.

Kaelen, Eric, Garrett, Ned, and Amy who had come around the corner at the sound, fell into stillness, reverent and awestruck.

Amy blinked in disbelief, her hand unconsciously resting over her heart. Jason looked between Asha and the towering man before her, wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

Asha’s body swayed, overwhelmed not just by the bond, but by the rightness of it. Ashavar reached and grabbed for her, almost terrified she might vanish again.

But she was real.

So real.

And this time, she had come to him.

Her heart thundered in her chest as she breathed him in, the scent growing stronger, so strong it made her legs buckle.

Asha wobbled slightly.

But before she could fall, he had her.

Strong arms wrapped around her, firm yet reverent, as though he feared holding her too tightly might shatter them both.

Tingles exploded across her skin like starbursts.

Everywhere his body touched hers, her soul sparked with familiarity, ancient and overwhelming. Her breath caught in her throat.

He was massive.

Not just tall, though she guessed he had to be at least seven feet, but powerful in a way that spoke of more than strength. It was presence. Command. Raw masculinity wrapped in divine fire.

His arms bulged as he held her, his scent cocooning her in salt, warmth, and something that made her want to melt.

Asha tilted her head back and finally took him in, really looked.

He was beautiful in a way she didn’t know how to describe. No, not beautiful. Formidable.

Jet-black curls, wild and long, tied up in an unruly bun now atop his head. A sharp, intimidating jawline left bare by any beard, his skin bronzed and golden from sun and battle. And his eyes now back to his human color, deep grassy green with flecks of gold. They held galaxies of pain and hope, ancient sorrow and something deeper.

Wonder.

Then he spoke.

“You’re real.”

His voice, gods, his voice was deep, velvet thunder that rumbled through her skin and down to her core. She swayed again from the impact of it.

She swallowed, blinking up at him. “I should say the same. I think I’ve dreamt of you…”

She searched his face as memories flooded her, dreams she’d dismissed, or forgotten, or locked away.

“You were standing on the roof of some great palace,” she whispered. “Howling at the moon.”

His breath caught. His arms stiffened slightly, as though every word she spoke reached some sacred part of him.

His eyes went wide. “That is my dream,” he said, voice shaking now, not with fear, but with awe. “I live in a palace by the ocean. I howl to the moon and beg her to return… to bring my family, my kind back. But there’s always a woman, a woman in a midnight blue dress and hair black as night, with violet eyes I was only blessed to see once.”

Her heart skipped. “The same dress… I wore at the ceremony,” she murmured.

Silence.

A breathless, sacred stillness.

Everything aligned.

Time. Memory. Fate.

Her wolf stirred inside her, Skjaria pulsing with familiarity, certainty, and the echo of something long foretold.

They had always known each other. Through lifetimes, through dreams, through the quiet ache of absence. And now, they were here.

Mate.

It hadn’t come from one voice, but two woven together like strands of fate that had waited lifetimes to meet.

Elder Kaelen’s legs nearly gave out beneath him.

His heart slammed against his chest as a thought thundered to the front of his mind, uninvited but undeniable.

“Kor.”

The name echoed like a bell inside his skull.

He stared at the Lycan King, not just a king, no…

Ashavar closed his eyes and shook his head, somewhat dazed by something happening to him. His eyes now open, were suddenly returning to his blood-orange Lycans color, and now deepening, glowing with golden embers now ringed in pure light. The mark on his chest flared in response to the glowing one on Asha’s, and then….He grew.

It was subtle, then not. Taller, broader. The energy rippling off of him cracked faintly in the air, like the snap of divine fire.

“It can’t be…” Kaelen whispered.

But even as he denied it, the truth rooted itself deeper. There had only ever been one with such presence. One whose soul was forged in both the celestial flames and the moon’s light.

Vaelkor.

The ancient one. The first child of the moon, the first Lycan King. Lost to time. Thought to have perished in the final war against the darkbloods. A name carried in myth, in prayer, and in the deepest dreams of the elders who studied the stories of the old realm.

And now, he stood before them.

The true Lycan King, fully awakened.

Ashavar, no, Vaelkor, shifted his gaze to Kaelen, and for the briefest moment, Kaelen felt it. A memory not his own. A battlefield of stars. Two large Lycans, one black, and one violet. A kingdom made of stone and wind and oath.

Power like nothing this realm had known surged around the two, grounded by the girl beside him.

Not just his mate.

His lost Queen.

And then, time slowed.

Inside the bond, somewhere deeper than thought or body, two ancient forces stirred.

…Vaelkor…

The voice was unmistakable, feminine, fierce, and etched in starlight. It rang within him like the chime of fate through the heavens.

…Skjaria… he responded, voice like thunder wrapped in reverence. …It’s truly you…

…I have waited so long to return… she whispered, her presence flickering through Asha like silver wind. …The girl… she is stronger than she knows…

Vaelkor smiles brightly. …As are you. You brought her back…

…We brought each other back…

A pause, the weight of millennia settling in mutual knowing.

…It’s time, isn’t it?… he asked.

…It is… Skjaria’s voice burned with a quiet resolve. …Light and shadow walk together again…

And with that, the echo faded, leaving only the bond between them, burning brighter than ever.

Asha swayed slightly again, and Ashavar steadied her effortlessly. His other hand came to rest just above her mark, glowing in tandem with his own. Not even touching, and yet a line of heat sparked between them like a vow.

Her eyes now violet with gold flecks seeping into the color.

Behind them, people began to kneel.

One by one, George, Amy, Jason, even Ned, lips pressed into a tight line, head bowing low.

Farah gripped her neck as her own mark pulsed, and looked to George with awe.

Kaelen’s voice cracked through the silence, reverent and low.

“The moon remembers her chosen. Light and shadow walk together again… And with them, the realm shall rise.”

Chapter 23

There was a tremor inside her chest, something ancient cracking open after lifetimes of silence.

Asha could still feel the warmth of his hand on her waist, grounding her. But what burned brighter than that was the raw pulse of something vast and holy surging through her veins.

Skjaria.

She hadn’t just heard her wolf’s voice.

She had felt her speak to him, Vaelkor. The name sounded like thunder laced in stardust, like a memory that wasn’t hers but had always lived inside her. Light and shadow, she remembered. Together again.

The mark on her chest hummed like a living flame.

She could feel the bond tethered between them, not as a rope or thread, but as a promise. One forged in war, broken in death, and reforged in her rebirth.

He had called to her through dreams she never understood.

She had run from reflections that were never just hers.

And now, they stood in the same breath, in the same time.

She turned her face slightly toward him.

He was no longer just Ashavar.

He was Vaelkor.

And yet, when she looked at him, when their eyes met again, he was also the same soul who had cried out to the moon in her dreams.

Mine.

The word wasn’t spoken. It thrummed through her, raw and tender.

Gasps sounded first, scattered among the crowd. Then whispers rippled like waves crashing against the shore.

“Did you feel that?”

“Her mark, it glowed.”

“That was the Lycan King… wasn’t it?”

“Not just a king,” Kaelen murmured aloud, eyes still locked on the man before them. “That was Vaelkor.”

Silence.

Then an audible gasp tore from someone’s throat.

“You mean, the first Lycan?”

Ashavar, Vaelkor, stood taller than ever before, his eyes no longer just blood-orange, but touched with molten gold around the irises. His aura was heavier, deeper, as if the very realm recognized him. And in contrast, the energy radiating from Asha was equal in weight, divine, not just powerful, also now slightly taller and muscular. Skjaria’s legacy made flesh.

Someone else dropped to their knees.

Then another.

And then, a powerful wave.

As though instinct commanded them, wolves across the hall bent their heads or sank to their knees in silent reverence.

Not to a tyrant.

But to something they had long forgotten they needed.

The true king and queen.

The royal bond restored.

Gasps still echoed. The kneeling wolves trembled, not in fear, but in awe.

And behind them all, frozen mid-step just beyond the crowd, stood Eric, Ashavar’s Beta. His sword, his brother in every way but blood.

Eric’s breathing was shallow, eyes locked on the man he’d followed into countless battles, the same man who wept silently by the sea after a dream he could never explain.

He’d seen Ashavar laugh, bleed, break, rebuild.

But he had never seen him like this.

Not this… ascended.

“Vaelkor…” Eric whispered.

A name, a myth, a piece of lycan history long buried by blood and time.

He’d heard the name growing up, same as any wolfchild. Vaelkor, the first Lycan King, chosen by the moon herself, but that was a story. A legend told around dying fires to give dying warriors something to believe in.

And now… he was real. And Eric had called him brother.

“No way,” he breathed, shaking his head slowly. “No. You would have told me.”

But deep down, he knew.

He didn’t know either. The thought struck like lightning.

Ashavar hadn’t known.

Eric staggered slightly as it hit him. Vaelkor, the true lycan spirit, had hidden himself, even from Ashavar, until the moment was right. Until she was here.

Until the prophecy began.

Until the world was ready to remember.

Eric’s eyes burned as he looked at him again. Like the very bones of the earth had realigned to welcome him. And at his side, Asha, Skjaria, divine and terrifying in her own right.

His king.

His queen.

He stepped forward, shoulders tense, voice thick.

“…You could’ve told me,” Eric said softly, a wry chuckle breaking the tension in his throat. “Then again, maybe you didn’t know either.”

Ashavar, Vaelkor, turned toward him slowly. There was something deeply human in his face still. An apology, an unspoken bond between friends untouched by power or prophecy.

“I didn’t,” he answered. His voice was still deep, still vast. But quieter now. “He kept it from me. Said when the moon returned, so would I. Until then… I was just a piece of him.”

Eric exhaled slowly.

Then he grinned, bittersweet and proud.

“Guess I’ve been guarding a god this whole time.”

They clasped forearms, the old way. No crowns. No hierarchy. Just two souls who’d bled together.

And now… the world would bleed or heal for them both.

As Eric and Ashavar clasped arms, a heavy silence lingered in the hall, thick with awe, disbelief, and rising energy that pulsed like a second heartbeat in every chest.

Elder Kaelen had not moved. His ancient eyes were locked on the glowing sigils, the full moons mirrored on their chests. Light and shadow, bound.

His lips moved, barely a whisper.

“…Vaelkor.”

The name fell from his mouth like an ancient invocation, breaking past centuries of disbelief and forgotten scripture.

It was him. Not a descendant, not a vessel, the Vaelkor, reborn in this age through Ashavar.

And the girl…

Kaelen’s gaze shifted to Asha.

No longer just a girl.

Her skin shimmered faintly, touched by divine presence. The shadow moon pulsed with every breath she took. She stood tall, shoulders squared in a way that hadn’t been there moments ago. Her eyes, glowing faintly violet, held not just fire, but knowing.

“By the goddess,” Kaelen muttered, a trembling hand rising to his chest. “She isn’t simply chosen. She is anointed.”

George stood still, his back pressed gently to the far wall where he’d drifted without realizing.

That was his little cousin.

He’d held her hand through nightmares. Taught her how to shift her weight when throwing punches. Watched her cry when she heard how her father broke her mother’s heart.

And now…

Now her presence made his wolf drop to its knees. Her scent had changed, still her, still familiar, but infused with something more. Her aura pressed down like heat before a thunderstorm, yet comforted like a warm blanket in winter.

“She’s not just Asha anymore…” he said aloud, voice unsteady. “But she’s still my family.”

Amy felt the tears before they formed, burning behind her eyes.

She hadn’t seen this coming, not this.

She had known Asha was different. Had known her child carried more than most.

But seeing Asha standing there now, beside the man who had led their race for centuries, a king of all, Amy saw the woman her daughter had become. And she felt it deep in her bones.

Not just her child anymore.

The Queen of their people.

“…My sweet girl,” she whispered, a hand rising to her lips. “You were never mine to keep.”

Jason couldn’t speak.

He just stared, eyes wide with disbelief and quiet reverence.

This was his best friend. The one who climbed trees with him. The one who patched his bruises and told off bullies twice her size.

Now… she stood with literal moonlight in her hair and power radiating from her body like a second sun.

And still, despite it all, when she looked his way, she smiled. Just a flicker. Just enough.

Jason smiled back through the lump in his throat, eyes glassy.

“Still Asha,” he whispered. “Just… taller.”

The clinic stood suspended, no one daring to speak the next word.

The prophecy stirred, the mate bond had awakened, and the first Lycan King and his Queen now stood united once more.

Down the hall, a new yet familiar voice rings out.

From her spot near the rear of the hall, Donna, the pack doctor, falls to one knee, not from weakness but instinct. Her body hums with recognition. Magic surges through her veins.

Her voice is steady, though her eyes stay on the ground.

“The King and Queen have returned… the realm can now breathe.”

She looks up, then she stirs, stiffens. Gasps echo. Her left eye glows blue, the calm of her wolf, a pack doctor’s loyalty and discipline. Her right eye flares bright green, wild and magical, the bloodline of witches.

She shifts her gaze to where Jason stands across the hall staring at her with eyes gone bright yellow.

Together their voices spill the word, “Mate”.

Ashavar, instincts honed over millennia, steps forward, voice a growl.

“She’s a witch.”

Guards move immediately, two tall men reach for Donna’s arms.

But before they make contact, Jason’s roar shakes the walls.

“DON’T. Touch her.”

The guards freeze. Everyone does. Even Ashavar pauses, sharp eyes flicking from Jason to Donna, assessing, calculating.

This snaps Asha out of the daze of the mate bond, the almost hypnotic feel of the bond fogging her mind, making her give into it already.

Asha stiffens and takes a singular step back.

Then Asha blinks.

Once. Twice.

The world rushed back in all at once, the kneeling people all around her, the bowed heads, the reverent silence that pressed against her chest until she couldn’t breathe.

King and Queen.

The words echoed, wrong and heavy.

Her gaze snapped from Donna to Jason to Kaelen, to the guards, to the wolves staring at her like she was already something other than human.

Her heart began to pound.

“No,” she whispered, barely audible. “No, wait.”

Ashavar’s presence was still there, overwhelming, grounding, magnetic. His hand hovered near her, his eyes locked on hers like the rest of the world had fallen away.

And for a moment, she almost stayed.

Almost let the bond pull her back into that hypnotic calm.

Then Donna words echoed in her mind again, voice full of awe, full of certainty.

The King and Queen have returned.

Something inside Asha cracked.

She took a step back.

Ashavar frowned. “Asha?”

Another step.

Her breath came sharp, shallow. The walls felt closer. The air too thick.

“You” Her voice shook. “You’re all… looking at me like I agreed to this.”

No one spoke.

They didn’t deny it.

That hurt more than if they had.

Chapter 24

“I didn’t ask for a crown,” she said, louder now, backing away. “I didn’t ask to fix your broken realm.”

Her eyes burned as memories slammed into her without mercy.

“My mother struggled every day because I didn’t have a wolf,” she snapped, voice cracking. “Do you know what it’s like to grow up knowing you’re the problem? That everyone’s careful around you like you’re some fragile defective glass?”

Amy took a step forward. “Sweetheart…”

“No.” Asha shook her head violently. “You don’t get to soften this now.”

Her gaze darted to George. To Ned. To Rowan.

“My father betrayed the mate bond,” she said bitterly. “And I spent years wondering if it was because I wasn’t enough to keep him there.”

Her chest hurt. It felt like it was collapsing inward.

“And now I find out that rogues keep finding us. That attacks follow me. That people I love die.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

“Aunt Lily.” Tears start falling freely from her eyes at the thought of her Aunt she never got to meet.

Silence fell like a blade.

“You don’t get to tell me that’s coincidence,” she said, tears finally spilling. “You don’t get to tell me I’m not the reason.”

Her breathing turned ragged.

“And now….now suddenly I’m not defective at all, am I?” she laughed, broken and sharp. “Now I’m valuable. Now you want me.”

She gestured wildly to her chest.

“Not me. This. The power inside me.”

Her eyes flicked to Ashavar, pain flickering there too.

“Does what I want mean anything?”

Ashavar moved toward her slightly.

She felt it, felt him start toward her. The instinct, their bond giving him that need to protect.

Kaelen’s voice cut through the room, sharp and ancient.

“Stop.”

Ashavar froze, torn.

“If you cage her now,” Kaelen said quietly, “you will lose her.”

Asha didn’t wait to hear more.

She turned and ran.

Too fast for hands to catch her. Too fast for voices to follow.

Bare feet slapped against stone, then dirt, then grass as she burst into the night.

The moon loomed overhead, too bright. Too knowing.

She didn’t stop until the lake swallowed the sound of the world.

She dropped to her knees at the water’s edge, hands clawing into the damp earth.

“I didn’t ask for this,” she sobbed. “I didn’t ask for any of it.”

Her reflection wavered, violet eyes, a glowing mark, power she never wanted.

“I just wanted to belong somewhere,” she whispered. “I just wanted to stop breaking everything.”

The world tilted. The lake went still.

And then…silence.

Not empty.

Waiting.

***

…Enough…

The voice wasn’t just loud.

It was almost primordial.

The air around her shimmered, silver light threading through shadow as the world folded inward.

One moment Asha is stumbling through trees, lungs burning, feet barely touching the ground, the word Queen echoing in her skull like a curse.

The next, she is standing ankle-deep in silver water.

The lake stretches endlessly in every direction, smooth as glass, reflecting a sky split between midnight and moonlight. No stars. Just the moon. Whole. Watching.

“I didn’t agree to this,” Asha says immediately, her voice shaking as she spins in a slow, frantic circle. “I didn’t, no one asked me. They just decided.”

The water ripples.

“You,” she said hoarsely as violet light took shape.

Skjaria stood before her at last across the lake. Massive, radiant, terrifying and beautiful.

“You let me think I was broken,” Asha screamed. “You let me think I didn’t belong!”

The wolf lowered her great head, eyes glowing with sorrow older than time.

…I let you live…

She steps onto the water as if it were solid ground, towering but not threatening, her presence pressing against Asha’s chest like gravity.

…You ran…

“I panicked,” Asha snaps back, tears already burning, already falling. “There’s a difference.”

Another presence stirs.

The air warms. Softens.

Moonlight pours down like silk, and a woman forms within it,

neither young nor old, her features constantly shifting, beautiful in a way that aches to look at. Her eyes hold lifetimes.

The Moon Goddess.

“You were overwhelmed,” the goddess says gently. “That is not weakness.”

Asha lets out a broken laugh. “Funny. Everyone else seems to think I’m some kind of miracle.”

Her hands curl into fists at her sides.

“They called me Queen,” she whispers. “Just like that. Like it’s a title you can slap onto someone and expect them to carry it.”

Her voice rises, cracking.

“I thought I was broken. I thought I was defective. A wolfless girl everyone tiptoed around like cracked glass because they were scared I’d shatter.” She presses a hand to her chest. “I spent my whole life thinking I was the problem.”

Skjaria’s ears flick back.

“And now?” the goddess asks softly.

“Now suddenly I’m the solution?” Asha snaps. “Now you all want this” she gestures wildly between herself, the water, the moon “this power, this destiny, this thing inside me, but does anyone care what I want?”

Silence answers her.

Asha’s breath stutters. Her shoulders shake.

“My mom struggled because of me,” she says, quieter now. “Was it her fate to have a wolfless child? For my father…” her jaw tightens “to betray the mate bond. And here I grew up thinking maybe if I’d been normal, if I’d been enough, none of that would’ve happened.”

The water darkens beneath her feet.

“And the attacks,” she continues, voice trembling. “The rogues when I was five. George. Rowan. My aunt, Ned’s mate, our Luna.” She looks up, eyes wild with fear. “What if they came because of me? What if I’ve been painting targets on everyone I love since the day I was born?”

Skjaria moves, then lowering herself until she is eye-level with Asha.

…You were never the cause… Skjaria says, voice firm, unyielding. …You were the reason they survived…

Asha shakes her head violently. “You don’t know that.”

…I do… Skjaria growls.

…Because I was there. Trapped. Watching. Unable to reach you…

Her massive head dips, just slightly.

…I gave you nightmares, yes, but it was only because it was the only way with how weak our bond still was that I could remind you that you were not alone…

Asha’s breath catches.

…If I had surfaced sooner, they would have taken you. Used you. Killed you. Or crowned you before you knew how to stand. You were safer here, protected by all in your pack from any harm…

Asha’s knees buckled.

“I didn’t belong anywhere,” she whispers.

…You belonged to me. And I to you. Even when the realm was not ready…

The Moon Goddess steps closer, moonlight pooling around Asha’s bare feet.

“You are afraid because you believe destiny removes choice,” she says gently. “It does not.”

“Then why does it feel like it’s swallowing me whole?” Asha asks.

“Because you have not yet claimed it,” the goddess replies. “You are standing at the threshold, not the throne.”

Asha looks between them. “And the king?”

Skjaria’s gaze sharpens, not possessive, but protective.

…Ashavar is bound to you, but not as your cage…

The goddess nods. “He does not make you Queen. You choose to become her.”

The words sink deep.

Asha exhales shakily.

“I don’t know how to fix a realm,” she admits.

“You do not have to,” the goddess says. “You only have to stop believing you were born to break it.”

The lake begins to fade, silver light dissolving into warmth.

“But they’re waiting,” Asha murmurs.

…Yes. And this time, you will return steady on your feet, head up high because you know you were always meant for more than guard duty…

Asha smiles and straightens.

She wipes her face. Her fear is still there, but it no longer owns her.

“Okay,” she whispers.

The moon smiles.

***

The light faded.

The lake returned.

Asha stood slowly, chest aching, but steadier.

Not resolved.

Not crowned.

But no longer drowning.

And when she turned back toward the cabin, it wasn’t because she was ready to rule.

It was because she was ready to listen to what fate had in store.

Chapter 25

The cabin lights glow softly through the trees.

Asha slows as she approaches, her steps no longer frantic but still hesitant. Her heartbeat is still loud in her ears, though it no longer feels like it’s trying to tear its way out of her chest.

She pauses at the door. Inside, voices murmur low. No shouting. No panic. Just waiting. That mattered more than she expected.

When she opens the door, the room stills. Donna is the first to notice her. Relief flashes across her face so fast it’s almost painful to see before she reins it in.

“You’re back,” Donna says quietly.

Asha nods. “I am.”

Ashavar stands near the hearth.

Not blocking the door. Not reaching for her. Just…there.

His gaze finds hers, steady and searching, but he does not step forward. There’s no command in his posture. No claim. Only concern. For the first time since the bond snapped into place, Asha doesn’t feel like she’s being pulled toward him by something outside herself.

She takes a breath.

“I needed space,” she says, voice even though her hands tremble slightly at her sides. “If I’m going to hear the rest of this, it has to be because I’m choosing to.”

Kaelen inclines his head, deeply respectful. “As it should be.”

Donna gestures to the table, where tea has gone untouched. “We didn’t start without you.”

Asha’s chest tightens.

She moves further into the room, eyes flicking briefly to Jason. He offers her a small nod, her childhood friend ever present.

Asha turns back to Ashavar.

“I’m not ready to be anyone’s Queen,” she says plainly.

The words hang heavy in the air.

Ashavar’s jaw tightens, not in anger, but in restraint. “Then you won’t be.”

Her breath catches.

“I…I need to understand,” she continues. “Not just the prophecy. Not just the bonds. But why me. And what’s been hidden from me my entire life.”

Kaelen steps forward then, his hands tapping softly against the table.

“That,” he says gently, “is why we’re here.”

Donna meets Asha’s gaze, something powerful yet vulnerable flickering beneath her usual warmth.

“Our stories aren’t meant to burden you,” Donna says. “They’re meant to give you truth. So you’re not carrying this blind.”

Asha nods slowly.

She takes the seat at the table, not at the head, not beside Ashavar.

Her own.

“I’ll listen,” she says. “But understand this,”

Her eyes lift, steady now.

“I am not a vessel. I am not a solution. And I am not something to be used because the realm is desperate for their own selfish needs.”

No one interrupts her.

“If I step into this,” Asha finishes, “it will be because I choose to. Not because I was born for it.”

Silence follows. Then Ashavar kneels. Not in ceremony, not in display. Just enough to meet her eyes.

“Then I will wait,” he says simply.

The room exhales. Asha swallows, something loosening inside her chest.

“Okay, tell me everything.”

The room was warm, lamplit with a gentle crackle from the hearth. The shadows danced along the old stone walls, but it was the silence that weighed most.

Asha sat at the long wooden table, hands folded, the weight of everything finally settling into her bones.

The glow of the moon mark on her chest had faded to a soft pulse, but the energy still hummed beneath her skin.

Ashavar then stood beside her, silent, arms folded, the firelight catching the curve of the still-glowing light moon on his chest.

Eric leaned against the far wall, trying to look relaxed, but his eyes kept darting between Asha and Ashavar. His entire world had just shifted, his King was Vaelkor, the first Lycan. And Asha… she was his long lost Queen.

The energy of the realm still hums in the walls.

Donna sits before them, hands bound in glowing Lycan-forged cuffs that flicker against her skin, but she does not resist. Jason hovers nearby, barely holding himself together.

Ashavar speaks first, calm but piercing.

“You are a witch. Explain why we should not execute you where you stand.”

Donna meets his gaze without fear, then turns her eyes to Asha, who gives a subtle nod, permission.

“Because I’m not their witch. I never was, not really.”

She pauses, then lifts her eyes to Kaelen and Eric.

“My grandmother was part of the Bloodshade Coven. Before the war, before the curse, before Hexa’s madness. When my mother was born, my grandmother gave her away to protect her. Her loyalty to the coven was being tested and she faked her daughters disposal. Handing her to a human woman in the woods, she returned to the coven after she hid what she had done.”

Kaelen stiffens. Eric’s brow furrows as he catches the reaction.

“My mom died when she gave birth to me, so I grew up not knowing what I was…until I turned eighteen. That night, a raven came to me. Black as void, with silver on its wings.”

“It carried a letter, and with it, a key…and a name on the front of it that I’d never heard…Asha.”

“I suppose it was always meant to be your name. The raven disappeared once I took the items, the letter was from my grandmother. She said she cast a spell for the raven to meet only on my birthday. She said that I carried strong, magical blood, both wolf and witch, and one day the realm would feel a shift. That day, I would feel it too. She wrote: ‘When the realm takes its first breath, the King and Queen will return. Only then may you act.’”

She glances at Asha and Ashavar.

“I felt it… when you transformed. That wave wasn’t just power, it was the realm breathing after an eternity of holding its breath. I know where my grandmother hid the old things, books, charms, memories. She couldn’t destroy them, and Hexa never found them because only my grandmothers bloodline can see what she veiled.”

“I can help you find them, before Hexa does. Including… the Book of Obsidian Veil. The one that cursed the moonlight… and sealed away a part of Vaelkor’s soul all that time ago.”

“My grandmother gave her life to guard these secrets from within the coven. I intend to finish what she started.”

Kaelen finally speaks, voice gravelly with old emotion, “The Book of Obsidian Veil… I thought it was lost.”

“My grandmother stole it and hidden it. Hexa wants it back.”

Suddenly, Jason chimes in with a sudden revelation.

“Wait wait wait, hold on. Your grandmother was around when the great war happened? That’s impossible, that’d make you…”

Donna giggles, “That makes me around 400 years old. One day, I felt the forest winds had changed, I felt the lands tremble. So I decided it was time to show myself.”

Amy was next to speak, completely dumbfounded by this new information. “I saw you though, as a child, I watched you grow up. The old pack doctor, she said she found you and took you in so how?”

Donna smiled sadly, remembering her fallen adoptive mother. “Truth is, she was my cousin, a very very distant one. My mother passed during childbirth, birthing a hybrid took a lot more out of her than she thought. My father was a wolf, Richard, a pack doctor to a new pack in the woods named Miravael.”

Ned speaks this time, “That’s the name of the first pack doctor when our pack was created on these lands. I saw his name many times in scrolls as a child.”

Donna’s eyes became glossy as she continues, “Yes, my father loved to take care of others, learning all types of remedies and recipes that would help heal wolves. That’s also how he fell in love with my mother, she is someone else you might have read about in the scrolls. The Silent Healer.”

They all gasped, she continues. “She wandered the forest for centuries when she found him, his pack in trouble. After she helped them, she never left. Dad passed some time later on from sickness, and my uncle Thomas took care of me, keeping me hidden in the forest. In the future he had his pups, and when he passed, they helped me, and so on, until I surfaced.”

Ashavar studies her, then turns to Asha.

“Your call.”

Asha rises slowly, her voice laced with power and compassion.

“You were meant to survive. You were meant to find us. You were meant to help. Welcome home, Donna.”

Jason exhales shakily and he goes to her. The cuffs dissolve in a flicker of light, and he massages her wrists, sparks flying.

Asha to the room,

“Now then, let’s find that book, and make sure Hexa never breathes easy again.”

Elder Kaelen sat slowly at the head of the table, his hand resting on a polished staff carved with celestial glyphs.

“I suppose,” Kaelen began, voice quiet and worn, “it’s time to tell the truth. All of it.”

Asha looked up sharply. “About Hexa?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “And about the curse. And my mate.”

Chapter 26

Ashavar’s brows knit. “You had a mate?”

Kaelen’s eyes grew distant. “A long time ago, I was one of the kings best soldiers. I had a Lycan, Maelor, dark silver colored fur. I miss the feeling of running in the forest, and I have forgotten what his voice sounds like.”

It takes a moment as he remembers the pain of his lost wolf, his distant gaze shaken off to be able to continue speaking.

“I was out on patrol like usual, when I scented something in the distance, nobody is allowed on royal grounds without announcing their arrival.”

He looks down and starts to smile at the memory. “But it smelled sweet, like fresh vanilla, so addicting, so alluring I had to see who it was and where it was coming from.”

He looks up, eyes still glossy. “Through the trees I saw her running. Her name was Elena. She had light silver hair that spilled out the sides of her hood as she ran, almost angelic. I chased after her until she finally stopped running, knowing she won’t outrun a Lycan, and as soon as she turned around it hits us both.

Angry but beautiful crystal blue eyes. She reminded me of moonlight. It took quite a while to convince your grandfather she meant no harm, but she had a good reputation. It was known that there was a travelling witch with silver hair that went pack to pack to help wolves in need, using powerful magic to heal and help recreate villages burned down from rogue battles. Stories thought to be a myth, yet there she was.”

Asha’s breath caught, there was sorrow in his tone that cut straight through her.

Donna spoke out with a gasp “The Silver Witch, my father told me about her stories. How she was an inspiration to mother, a pure witch that all witches could or should want to follow.”

Kaelen continued, “What few know is that Elena had a twin. A sister named Hexa. Where Elena was warm and open, Hexa was… cold. Sharp. There was a darkness to her, even then. She hated the Lycans and wolves. Thought we were chosen unfairly. That the witches were ruled out unjustly, even had rogues believe they were abandoned children of the moon and they worked together. She believed the Moon showed favoritism.”

“Jealousy,” Ashavar muttered, his jaw tight.

Kaelen nodded. “Hexa was a powerful witch, even then. And when she discovered that her sister, the one person she truly loved, was mated to a Lycan within the kingdom of Lycans, me, she… snapped. She believed I had corrupted Elena. That I’d stolen her away.”

Asha’s voice came out soft, shaken. “What happened?”

“I failed her,” Kaelen said, voice rough. “Elena and I were meant to help reinforce the shield around the celestial realm, to keep it protected from dark magic. Instead… Elena faltered. Her love for her sister overpowered her oath to the Moon. She fractured the shield from the inside.”

Eric’s face twisted in horror. “That’s how Hexa got in?”

“Yes.” Kaelen looked away.

“Elena gave her access. Hexa used that access to cast a binding curse on the entire royal palace and the royal bloodline. She weakened and severed the wolves connection to the Moon, and tethered the Lycans to the celestial realm. Not allowing them to be born in this realm again…

The royal palace suffered worst, stripped entirely of their Lycans. It was her revenge. The Luna Queens soul was used as the sacrifice for the curse, and the Royal Princess… I am so sorry Ashavar, but at the time, she was pregnant with a little boy. They killed her, and tried to kill the baby inside her to stop the line from continuing.”

Ashavar let out a low growl, his aura flaring. “Why are you apologizing to me Kaelan? I was not there.”

“There’s more,” he said gravely. “After Elena realized what Hexa planned… she tried to stop her. She chose me. Chose the Lycans. Chose the Moon. She turned against her sister. She was able to stop the witch before she killed the boy. That boy, was you.”

Ashavar faltered slightly, this would mean he is closer to a thousand years old, not 700. That was his mother they had killed to rip him from her.

Asha’s voice barely made it past her lips as she tried hard not to soothe her mate. “What happened to her?”

Kaelen closed his eyes. “She died protecting the child from the curse, from losing his Lycan. She placed a spell on him to keep him as a baby, before his wolf rises to hide him better from the coven. Only to begin aging once his right hand, his Beta, was born. Hexa saw it as the ultimate betrayal. I got there too late for her, but was able to grab the baby before Hexa did.”

The silence stretched thick for a moment, until Kaelen lifted his sleeve.

Scarred across his forearm in dark, runic script was a mark unlike any Asha had seen. It pulsed faintly, a sickly red hue.

“She cursed me,” he said. “A blood curse, for letting Elena die for a Lycan. For ‘corrupting’ her. I’ve carried it for centuries, it keeps me alive, but I feel every year. Every death. I’ve watched generations rise and fall… alone.”

Asha reached across the table, laying her hand gently over his.

“You’re not alone anymore.”

Asha’s eyes softened. She reached across the table, slow, careful, and gently laid her hand over his.

Kaelen tensed.

He braced for it, the searing, hot, soul-splitting agony that always followed touch. For a thousand years, not even the brush of wind against his skin brought comfort. When anyone came close, it felt like fire under his flesh, like being branded from the inside out. The curse made sure of it.

But this time…

Nothing.

No pain. No fire. Just the soft warmth of a hand. Human. Real. Alive.

Suddenly, the mark on his arm fades slightly, not completely, but it was no longer as angry looking.

His breath hitched.

The silence of the room cracked as Kaelen choked on a sound, half gasp, half sob. His eyes widened and shimmered with sudden, uncontrolled tears. A thousand years of torment, undone in a heartbeat.

His shoulders shook as his face crumpled, and the mighty Elder, ancient and revered, wept.

Ashavar steadied himself, stepping closer with quiet reverence, while Eric looked away to give him a sliver of privacy, but Asha didn’t move. Her hand stayed over his, grounding him in that moment. Letting him feel safe.

Kaelen lets out a small whimper, holding back his tears to speak.

“Another part of the curse, was that I would never feel the touch of another living being again. Even if someone attempted to, my body would feel as if I were engulfed in flames… Yet here you are, and I feel nothing.”

“You’re not alone anymore,” she whispered.

Kaelen couldn’t speak. He could only nod, tears streaming freely now. His voice, when it came, cracked like dry stone.

“The Moon… she sent you.”

Asha nodded once, her voice stronger than before. “Maybe… I just hope I won’t let her down.”

Ashavar’s voice came next, calm and solid like bedrock as he laid his hand on his dear friends shoulder. “Nor do I.”

Kaelen took a long, shuddering breath, regaining himself piece by piece. “Then it begins,” he murmured. “For the first time since the fall… the curse is breaking. One thread at a time.”

Amy steps in to speak now. “So what do we do now about the witch? We all felt when their bond snapped into place, an immediate rush of power and need to kneel and submit to them, to follow. I’m sure every being in the kingdom felt it.”

Elder Kaelen became tense at this thought, it’s true, their bond would immediately try to bring the realm together even without an official marking. Or in Asha’s case, without even accepting the bond yet.

“Our Gamma should be here any moment with royal guards from the palace. They have sworn their lives to the throne and were blessed as half-shifters.”

George was the first one to say “What’s a half-shifter?”

Kaelen chuckled at the curious new Alpha, “Half-shifters are just that, they can only half-shift. They don’t have a Lycan, but have the claws, canines, and strength of one. Does not happen to everyone, but they are the rare few who were chosen by the moon to help protect the royal kingdom. Mother moon has her ways of showing she still has her faith in us. Some of those soldiers will stay behind here to help keep watch when we all go back to the palace.”

Asha speaks up now eyes narrowed at the elder, but the tremble in her voice unmistakable. “And by we all you mean?…”

Kaelen gives her a solemn look, knowing this might not go as easy as he hopes it will.

“Yes, I mean you too my Queen, you must return with us to The Palace of Vaelmyr, to take your place on the throne beside the king, and help lead us to victory in the oncoming war.”

The End…