Owen Greystone's POV

I went toward the cliff, staring into the depths below. The fall was startling, a steep drop that made my stomach twist. The river's roar was loud, like blood pumping through veins. A strip of mint green sash caught my attention, hung torn on a jagged branch, flapping against the wind. 

Klaus's mother came over, her gaze locking on the fabric. Her lips trembled. "Oh, that's Ember's dress!" she gasped, voice breaking. "My baby... I can't sense her anymore."  

She swayed, clutching her head. Klaus's father caught her, his arms strong but his face pale with dread. She leaned into him, sobbing softly, her strength crumbling.

She was right. Ember's faint lavender scent on the cliff edge had faded completely. Could she have truly done that? What a foolish human, she couldn't bear to handle one rejection. I'd never met anyone so fragile, yet her choice gnawed at me, stirring something I couldn't name.

Klaus, usually so strong, looked lost, his eyes darting to the cliff's edge. He didn't try to comfort his mother; she was beyond soothing. Instead, he made his way down the cliff.

Nevertheless, I followed, not with hope for Ember, but out of fear. What if she had left something behind—a message, a clue—pointing to me? In a few days, I would become Alpha. A leader who pushed a pack member to her… No. I couldn't even let myself imagine it. My father would have my hide and possibly strip me of the title. I would be humiliated before the pack and forced to apologize. The thought choked me.

We climbed down the cliff, rocks skittering underfoot. At the bottom, the ground was empty, no body or trace, just the river's never-ending torrent. I heaved a sigh of relief. The mint green sash was the only sign she had been here. Without it, we would have doubted she ever was. It was as if the earth had swallowed her, like some scary stories from my childhood. Did she end up here? Could she be permanently linked to this place?

Klaus's strength failed. Tears ran silently down his face. He didn't sob, just stood there, shoulders shaking, staring at the water. I felt a pang in my stomach. I had done this. If I hadn't rejected her… maybe none of this would have happened. Klaus wouldn't be falling apart, his parents wouldn't be shattered.

"Hey, brother," I whispered. "Maybe... maybe she survived. "The water could have-" I paused. We both knew better. That height? That current? Even the strongest wolf would not be able to survive. Let alone someone like Ember. She didn't stand a chance. I shivered at the thought. Her scent had faded; she might probably have been washed away or consumed by creatures downstream. Hours ago, she stood before me... now, there was nothing left of her trace.

Klaus didn't answer; he just stared at the water. I stroked his shoulder, awkwardly, hating how heavy it felt. "We'll keep looking," I said, though the words tasted hollow.

We climbed back up, the silence between us heavy. Klaus's parents waited, their faces hopeful for a heartbeat before they saw us. His mother's eyes searched mine, then Klaus's, and her hope was crushed. She buried her face in her hands, a howl tearing from her throat. Her body shook, and even her husband's grip couldn't calm her. 

I slipped away, guilt burning my throat. I couldn't face her tears, her pain. If they knew I had pushed Ember to this, called her worthless, spat on her, they would hate me. Klaus, my best friend, would never forgive me. The pack would turn against me; my future as Alpha would be ruined. I had to bury this and erase any trace of my involvement in it.

We walked back to the pack house, heads down. My father met us, concern etched on his face.

"Any news, Klaus?" he asked, voice heavy. As Alpha, he carried the pack's safety on his shoulders, a burden I would soon inherit. I prayed he would never learn my little secret.

Klaus shook his head, unable to speak. His father had rallied the pack to search, every member scouring the woods for Ember. The full moon, meant for celebration, was cloaked in grief, all because of her. Part of me still thought she'd been right to leave; she had spared the pack future trouble. But the thought felt wrong now, bitter in my mouth.

"Father," I whispered, leaning close, "let me check Ember's room. There might be a clue." I kept my voice calm, but my pulse raced. If my father, as wise as ever, sensed my guilt, I was done for.

"Go, you have my permission," he said, eyes narrowing slightly. "Show me you're ready to lead."

With ease, I entered Ember's room, heart racing. It was empty, clothes folded neatly, no diary, no notes, nothing to implicate me. She had left no trace, as if she had planned to go all along. Relief hit me, sharp and fleeting. She had been careful, at least in this.

Outside, voices rose, shouting her name. My fists clenched, anger rising. Even now, she was stealing the pack's peace, turning a night of joy into chaos. Why couldn't she have chosen a quieter way to go?

The pack split into groups, fanning out through the woods. We searched every path, every clearing, but found nothing, no tracks, no scent, no sign. Hours passed, the moon climbed higher, and exhaustion settled over us like a fog.

The pack gathered in a circle, Klaus and his parents at the center. Their faces were ashen, eyes hollow. Klaus's mother's tears fell freely now, her husband's arm around her, his own face tight with pain. They had loved Ember like their own, raising her with care despite her lack of a wolf. And I'd taken her from them.

Regret clawed at me again, more piercing now. I shook my head, trying to push away her face, those wide, hurt eyes as I'd rejected her. She had chosen this, hadn't she? One rejection shouldn't have broken her. But deep down, I knew better. My words, my cruelty, had driven her into this. I glanced at the river's final bend, which disappeared around the corner. That current… if she had fallen in, she wouldn't have made it far.

I followed my father as he approached Klaus's parents; they were grieving someone they cherished deeply. "We'll keep searching," he said, "She was one of us." Klaus's father nodded, his mother choked on a sob, clinging to him.

We stood there comforting the family. Ember was gone, and I didn't know how to undo what had happened. I know I wanted her gone, but not this way. Not with Klaus's tears, his mother's cries, the pack's sorrow. I had wanted to be Alpha, strong and respected, but now I felt small, a coward hiding behind lies.

Lycan King's POV 

I jolted upright in bed, chest heaving, sweat beading on my brow. The same dream had haunted me for eighteen years: my daughter's face, her tiny hand slipping from mine. The accident that stole her left me powerless, a king reduced to tears, unable to do anything but grieve day after day.

Perhaps I had been under more strain lately, because the dreams had intensified, dragging up memories I'd buried: the river's rush, the whisper of the forest, a distant wail of grief. I couldn't shake them. I climbed out of bed, steeling myself. I needed a walk to the forest, the place where my daughter went missing, where her absence still felt raw. For years, I'd visited that cursed spot, chasing her warmth, clinging to a hope long faded. It was my ritual, my way of feeling my baby's warmth, as though she were still there with me.

Today felt different. My heart raced, a restless throb pulsing through me. Unease gripped me, unusual for a Lycan King. As I strode through the forest, the air felt wrong, charged with something I couldn't name. Small animals darted past, colliding with my legs, foolish creatures that should've fled at the sight of me. Instead, they scurried in a frenzy, circling back toward the river. This wasn't normal. I followed. This was my territory. Nothing moved here without my say.

Pushing through dense bushes, a sharp lavender scent hit me. My blood froze. Only Lycans carried that scent, a gift from the Moon Goddess, marking my bloodline. No wolf, no matter how strong, could mimic it. Eighteen years ago, my daughter, our only child, disappeared, leaving my wife and me broken. We had searched endlessly, each day met with despair. Could this be her?

My head spun, thoughts racing wildly. The lavender trail pulled me to the riverbank. A beast loomed there, fangs bared, ready to lunge at a figure in the water. I didn't think, just acted, kicking the creature aside. It yelped, tail tucked, and fled into the forest.

I dropped to my knees beside the girl in the water. Her face was pale, almost translucent, her breathing so faint it barely stirred the air. Her lips were pressed tight, eyes closed, yet something about her felt achingly familiar. My heart slammed against my ribs, breath catching. If my daughter were alive, she would be eighteen. The lavender scent, weak but undeniable, clung to her.

"Please, Moon Goddess," I whispered, scooping her into my arms. "Don't let me find her just to lose her again." Her body was cold, limp, but I ran, legs burning, toward the pack's stronghold. I hadn't felt this drained since the war that nearly broke us, but I pushed harder, her weight a fragile hope in my arms.

The royal doctor met me at the gates, eyes wide as I thrust the girl toward her. "Save her," I rasped, hands shaking. Servants stared, shock etched on their faces, as if their king had lost his mind. Maybe I had.

"Your Highness, you need rest," a servant urged, guiding me to change out of my soaked clothes. I barely heard them, my gaze locked on the girl as the doctor carried her away.

"Go inform the queen now... No! Don't tell her yet," let's keep this quiet until I know who she is. I won't break her heart again." My wife had never recovered from our daughter's loss, her tears staining her pillow every night. I couldn't raise her hopes only to crush them again.

The doctor hesitated, glancing at the girl. "Your Highness, I mean no disrespect, but she appeared out of nowhere. Could she be-"

I cut her off. "Look at her. The scent, the face... even if appearances could be mimicked, the scent couldn't. The Moon Goddess marked our bloodline with lavender. No one else carries it." Her features mirrored my wife's delicate, strong, unmistakable features. I knew it in my bones: this was our daughter.

Eighteen years ago, an accident took her from us. My wife wept over her portrait day in, day out, and I carried the guilt of failing to protect her. I'd been a king, a warrior, but not a father who could save his only child. Now, here she was, a miracle delivered by the Moon Goddess herself. A second chance.

"Your Highness," the doctor called, "you may need to be intellectually prepared. She's not out of danger. She fell from a great height, which has caused-" The royal doctor's words abruptly ended the pleasant illusion. 

My heart lurched, the joy snuffed out. I'd been so caught up in hope that I'd ignored her condition that she was still caught in the claws of death. "Do whatever it takes," I begged, my voice cracking. "Name your price, but save her."

In that moment, I wasn't the Lycan King, ruler of a mighty pack. I was just a broken-hearted father, pleading for his child. The doctor nodded and ushered me out. "She needs rest, and so do you. We'll do everything we can to save her."

I lingered, reluctant to leave. My hands still trembled, the memory of her faint pulse haunting me. I'd carried her once as a baby, her tiny fingers curled around mine. Now, she was a stranger, yet every bit my daughter. I couldn't lose her again. Each hour was testing my patience. I paced the halls, avoiding my wife's questioning gaze. I hadn't told her, couldn't bear to until I knew the girl would live. Her heart couldn't take another loss. Neither could mine.

Finally, the doctor appeared, her face weary but lit with a small smile. "She's stable, Your Highness. Out of danger, for now. But her recovery will take time; she fell from a very high place, and her body's weak."

Relief flooded me, my knees nearly buckling. "She's alive," I whispered, more to myself than her. "Thank you." I turned to leave, then paused. "Keep her safe, please. I'll tell the queen when she's stronger."

For the first time in years, I felt hopeful. My daughter, our daughter, was back. I'd failed her once, but never again. The Moon Goddess had given me a second chance to make it right, to be the father she deserved. I wouldn't waste it.

Ember Frost's POV

Pain slammed through my skull. I tried to open my eyes, but they wouldn't budge; they remained sealed shut like they'd been glued. Darkness pressed in, heavy and absolute. Had I hit my head on the cliff's edge? Or a rock in the river? Owen's sneering face flashed in my mind, his voice mocking: Useless human. I'd always been weak, hadn't I?

A rustle broke the silence, followed by voices, urgent, and overlapping. "Did she move?" "She's waking up! Fetch His Majesty!" The words swirled, unfamiliar and chaotic, spiking my headache. Confusion churned in my gut. Where was I? Who were they?

"Silence, please!" I croaked, my voice barely a rasp. The noise stopped instantly, a hush falling over the room. Exhausted, I sank back, the pain dragging me under. Sleep took me fast.

When I stirred again, voices hummed in my head, soft, almost musical, not a dream but real. They weren't grating, not like the pack's jeers back home. These were warm, alluring, like a lullaby I couldn't place. I wanted to see their faces, to match the voices to people, but my body screamed in protest. Every muscle ached, as if I'd been torn apart and stitched back together. My head throbbed like it'd been crushed under a boulder. If this kept up, I'd lose what little sense I had left.

"Why can't I see?" I mumbled, panic rising. My eyes still wouldn't open.

A gentle voice answered. "It's alright, Princess. You hit your head when you fell. Your vision will return soon."

Princess? The word jolted me. Was this a prank? A fever dream? Who were they calling Princess? My chest tightened, memories of that night flooding back, Owen's rejection, his cruel words slicing me open, the cold river swallowing me as I fell from the cliff. I'd wanted to die, to escape the shame, the pain of being a burden. Yet here I was, alive, surrounded by strangers. Why hadn't death taken me? Even the God of Death must've found me too pathetic to claim.

I tried my eyes again, willing them to open. A faint blue light seeped through, dim and hazy. I blinked, the effort searing, but the darkness held fast. My heart raced. Had the river blinded me? I'd fallen, the current dragging me, my body slamming against rocks. How was I still breathing? These people, whoever they were, had saved me. Kind, maybe, but they'd be disappointed. A weakling like me couldn't repay them, couldn't go to war with them, couldn't belong. They should've let me drown.

"They shouldn't have saved me," I whispered, tears pricking my sealed eyes. "I'm no use to anyone." Owen's voice echoed: You're pathetic. Stay in your hole. I'd brought humiliation to my family, to Elena, to the pack. I didn't deserve this second chance.

A gentle hand touched my forehead, soothing the ache. "Sleep, little one," a voice said. "Rest, and it will hasten your healing." Her tone was warm and kind, calming my fears. Weak as I was, I clung to it, too exhausted to fight. Sleep pulled me under again.

When I woke, my eyes fluttered open, just a crack. A soft blue glow filled the room. I blinked, wincing at the sting, and shapes began to form. My vision was blurry, like looking through fog. I felt relieved; at least I wasn't blind.

People surrounded me, their faces coming into focus. They wore sleek, yellow robes and moved gracefully. A tall woman stood in the centre, her long black curly hair piled high, her lips full, and her cheeks rosy. Her smile was beautiful, yet tears welled up in her eyes. The others fanned out around her, their eyes soft and welcoming.

"My Princess," she whispered, voice trembling with excitement. "Thank the Moon Goddess you're awake."

I stared, my head spinning. Princess? This had to be a joke. Maybe Elena, my best friend back home, had planned this; her wild pranks always caught me off guard. She would tease me, laugh, then hug me tight. But the room was too grand, its walls carved with intricate patterns, the air heavy with a scent I couldn't place, sweet, like vanilla. No one would waste this effort on a nobody like me.

"I'm sorry," I said, clearing my throat, my voice shaky. "You've got the wrong person." I braced for Elena to burst in, giggling, but the woman's smile didn't falter. 

"No mistake, Your Highness," she said, stepping closer. "You're our royal princess. We nearly lost you, but the Moon Goddess guided us to you in time."

My heart raced, confusion crashing over me. Royal princess? I was Ember, the wolf-less human, rejected and humiliated. "You don't understand," I said, trying to explain. "I'm no one. I fell from a cliff, I-" I stopped, my headache flaring, making me wince.

A brown-haired woman in a simpler robe, maybe a maid, spoke up, her voice soft but tinged with awe. "The Moon Goddess spared you, Princess. You survived that fall by her grace."

My head spun, the room tilting. What was this place? Had I died and woken in some strange afterlife? Or had the river carried me somewhere new? The pain, the voices, the title, they overwhelmed me. I gripped the edge of the bed, nails digging in, trying to anchor myself. "I don't understand," I whispered. "What's happening?"

The tall woman knelt beside me, her hand gentle on mine. "You're safe now," she whispered, her voice soft as a mother's. "You're home. We'll explain everything, but you need to rest first." Her kindness disarmed me, but it only deepened my confusion. Home? I'd left my home, Klaus, my parents, and the pack behind. I'd jumped to free them from my shame.

"I'm not a princess," I said, shaking my head, the motion increasing the pain. "I'm useless to your pack." Owen's words echoed again, cutting deep. Useless. Pathetic. Tears burned my eyes, but I fought them back, refusing to break here.

"No, child, you are everything," the woman said, her voice fierce now, eyes blazing with conviction. "You're our hope, our future. The Moon Goddess brought you back to us." She squeezed my hand, her touch grounding me despite my doubts.

"Rest, Princess," the maid said, her voice soft as a lullaby. "We'll be here when you wake."

I wanted to argue, to tell them they were wrong, but exhaustion hit hard. My vision blurred again, the pain in my head intensified. I sank back, too weak to fight.