Killian's POV I stormed out of the ballroom with my hands clenched and my chest heaving what annoyance. Everything had turned so fast I could hardly understand it. I had claimed Zylia in front of everyone, I had felt the bond settle between us, and then the priestess had spoken, and I had torn it all apart with my own words. The music and voices faded behind me as I walked down the corridor and I didn't care that people moved out of my way; I just needed to be alone. My heart hurt, and my anger burned painfully as I pushed open the door to my chambers and stepped inside with Lilith right behind me. "Killian, wait," she said softly, but I slammed the door before she could step in, with the wood shook under the force. "I don't want company," I said through the closed door. For a moment, I stood there, staring at the door as if it could stop all the noise in my head, and then I went to the window and threw it open, letting Moonlight pour over the room. I leaned on the frame and tried to breathe. The priestess's words still rang in my ears. Was she really going to betray me? I can't be sure but she didn't look like someone who would. I thought of the dreams that had woken me for weeks now, with smoke over the valley and wolves fighting and falling with blood on the stones of the courtyard. I had tried to push them away, but they kept coming, and tonight the priestess had spoken of the same doom. I pressed my hands to my face. "Moon goddess, why?" I whispered. "Why give her to me and then rip her away?" Time passed silently and I didn't know how long I stood there until a knock sounded. "My Alpha," Lucien's voice came through the door. "It's me." I opened the door and let him in. Beta Lucien stepped inside and closed it quietly behind him. "She's gone," he said. "I made sure she was escorted out of the territory. Just as the priestess ordered." I sat down on the edge of the bed and shook my head. "It's not right, Lucien. None of this is right." He stayed silent, waiting. "Why would the moon goddess show me she's my mate and then take her away?" I asked. "Why put her in front of me only to say she's a curse and a betrayal?" Lucien crossed the room and stood near the fireplace. "The ways of the goddess are not for us to understand," he said gently. "She sees more than we can." "That doesn't help," I muttered. "I sent her out there like she was nothing. I look like a monster. It's like I lured her here only to hurt her." I felt tears sting my eyes, and I tried to swallow them back, but they came anyway, so I bowed my head. "I knew I'd love her," I said quietly. "I didn't want to admit it, but I do. Since the time I saw at the dinner hall, dirty and trying to hide from everyone, I knew she was the one for me." Lucien's eyes softened. "I don't feel anything for the other girls," I went on. "I've tried. I've looked at every girl the council brought to me, but Nothing, only her." Beta Lucien laid a hand on my shoulder. "I know, Alpha Killian. I saw the way you looked at her. But you did what you thought would save the pack." I nodded, though my heart didn't agree. "Rest a little," Beta Lucien said after a pause. "I'll keep the guards on alert tonight." "Thank you," I said. He left quietly, and I sat there in the silence, staring at the floor in mystery. Another knock came later, and I thought Lucien had returned, but when I opened the door, Lilith stood there. She wore a thin silk robe that clung tightly to her body, and her hair fell over her shoulders, and her lips curved in a small smile. "Killian," she said softly. "You shouldn't be alone tonight." I stepped back. "Luna Lilith, you need to go back to your room." I growled. She slid inside before I could stop her, and the robe shifted, showing too much skin as she came closer. "You're hurting," she whispered. "You don't need to think about that omega wench anymore. She was trouble from the start." "Don't call her that," I snapped. Lilith placed a hand on my chest. "You need comfort," she said. "I can give you that." She leaned closer with her fingers drawing a faint line on my chest. "Stop," I said, stepping back. "Killian," she said softly, "you're an Alpha. You deserve someone strong beside you, not a betrayal that will ruin your pack." Her words made anger rise in me. "Get out," I said. She blinked, still smiling faintly. "You don't mean that." "I do," I said firmly. "Leave my room, Lilith. At this instant." Her smile faded, and she tossed her hair and turned for the door. "Fine," she said. "But sooner or later you'll see I'm the right choice." I didn't sleep much that night, and every time I closed my eyes, I saw Zylia's face as the guards led her away. Morning finally came, and I changed into running clothes and left the pack house alone. I needed to clear my head. I ran until my breath came fast and the ache in my muscles drowned out the ache in my heart, and when I returned to the pack house, the sun was already up and Beta Lucien waited by the front steps gravely. "What now?" I asked, wiping sweat from my brow. "There's unrest on the council," he said. "They met this morning, and apparently, they're worried about last night. They say an Alpha who claims an omega and then rejects her in front of everyone is a risk." I frowned. "A risk?" "They want you to choose a proper mate soon," Mason said. "If you don't, they might try to impeach you." My hands curled at my sides. "A proper mate," I repeated. "What does that even mean to them?" "They think the best choice is Lilith. She should've been your Luna," Lucien said slowly. "She has status. She's from the Crestwood Pack. A union would calm them." I let out a scoff. "Lilith," I said. "Of course it has to be her..!"

Zylia's POV

The forest seemed endless.

We had been walking miles and miles and it didn't look like the other was going to end soon.

Branches clawed at my hair as I followed Mason deeper into the dark. His steps were silent, confident, like the night knew him. Mine weren't. Every twig I broke sounded like an apology.

The packlands were long behind me now. Each breath I took out here tasted like betrayal, sharp and cold.

"Keep up," Mason muttered without looking back.

"I'm trying," I said, clutching the strap of my bag tighter.

"Then try harder."

I bit my tongue. He wasn't cruel, just blunt, a man made of rough edges and solitude.

"Can you slow down a bit," my feet dragged as I tried to catch my breath.

Mason turned slowly, his chest heaving out of frustration.

"This is the slowest I can walk Zylia. You chose to follow me."

"Just...please," I bent slightly, my palms resting on my knees.

"Five minutes, Zylia. Five minutes." He said.

"Thank you," I said, resting my back on a tree.

He didn't budge. He stood alert like he was ready to go to war.

"Rest a little." I said, tapping a spot beside me.

"Your time's up." He growled.

I could've sworn I didn't use a second out of the time he gave me.

We climbed over a fallen tree, and I stumbled when my boot caught on a root. Mason reached out instinctively, steadying me by the arm. His grip was firm, warm, grounding. Then, almost too quickly, he let go.

"Watch where you're going," he said, voice softer than before.

"I said I'm trying," I mumbled.

A ghost of a smirk crossed his lips. "You talk too much for someone who's scared."

"I'm not scared."

He raised a brow. "Sure."

We walked until the trees thinned into a clearing lit by pale moonlight. Shapes moved in the shadows, men and women with hard eyes and torn clothes. Rogues.

The air changed, heavy with smoke, blood, and something feral. My wolf shrank inside me.

Mason stopped at the edge of the clearing. "Welcome to nowhere," he said.

Dozens of gazes turned our way. Conversations fell silent. The camp smelled of wet fur, cheap whiskey, and desperation.

"Who's the stray?" a voice called from near the fire.

Mason didn't answer.

"She's pack," another sneered. "You bringin' us Silverclaw's trash now, Mason?"

My throat went dry.

"She's with me," Mason said simply. His tone was enough to make most of them look away.

"Didn't know you were babysitting now," someone muttered.

Mason shot him a glare sharp enough to silence him. "Didn't ask what you knew."

He turned back to me. "You can rest there." He pointed to a half-collapsed tent near the dying fire.

I hesitated. "And you?"

"I've got my own corner of hell." He walked off before I could say thank you.

The tent smelled of smoke and rain-soaked fabric. I dropped my bag inside and sat on the cold ground, hugging my knees. The fabric was torn enough to let in threads of moonlight.

Outside, laughter broke the night, rough, dangerous. Someone shouted, then a thud, a snarl.

This was nothing like the packlands. There were no rules here, no Luna to keep order. Just survival.

I pressed my forehead against my arms and tried not to cry.

You wanted to belong.

I reminded myself. And now, no one wants you.

***

I don't know when sleep took me.

But when I opened my eyes, I wasn't in the tent anymore.

Silver light surrounded me, liquid and endless. The air shimmered like water, and somewhere in the distance, a low hum rose,  a melody that felt older than time.

I turned, heart pounding. The forest was gone. So was the pain.

A woman stood before me, her hair flowing like moonlight, her eyes deep and endless.

The Moon Goddess.

Her voice was soft, layered, like many voices speaking through one. "Child of flame," she whispered. "Not all prophecies speak truth. Some speak choice."

My mouth parted. "I don't... I don't understand, Moon Goddess."

"You will." She reached out, her touch brushing my cheek. Warm. Real. "You were born to balance light and dark. To choose what others fear to face."

Then the world erupted.

Silver fire burst around me, alive, whispering, dancing at the rhythm of my breath. I raised my hands and the flames followed like they knew my soul.

"Why me?" I asked, voice breaking.

Her eyes glowed brighter. "Because you were never meant to be weak."

And then she vanished.

I woke with a gasp.

The tent was cold again, the night pressing in. My palms glowed faintly, silver threads flickering across my skin before fading. I stared, shaking.

It had to be a dream. It had to be.

Outside, voices rose, tense, hushed.

"Mason, you'd better come see this!" someone shouted.

I froze, crawling toward the tent flap. Through the gap, I saw the rogues gathered near the edge of camp. Mason stood among them, looking down at something on the ground, something that made even him go still.

The moonlight caught the glint of it.

A strange sigil.

My heart stopped....

What was that? 

Zylia's POV

"Found this by the ridge," he said, his voice rough with nerves.

He tossed it into the dirt. The firelight caught on dark metal , blackened, cracked, stamped with a strange sigil. A crescent shape torn through by claws.

The murmurs began instantly.

"What the hell is that?"

"That's not pack work."

"It reeks of magic."

Mason crouched beside the emblem, his brow furrowing. "Where exactly did you find it?"

"Near the stream," the man said. "Half buried. Looked fresh."

I took a step closer, the smell of ash biting at my nose. Something about the symbol made my stomach twist. It felt... wrong. Not dangerous in the way blades were , dangerous like something older.

Like Something was watching.

Mason touched the edge of the emblem with his knife. "This isn't Howlborne's mark."

One of the older rogues spat. "Then whose is it?"

No one answered. The silence that followed was worse than the question.

A man behind me muttered, "It showed up the same week she did."

My heart skipped. "What?"

"She's the only new thing around here," another voice growled. "Maybe she brought it."

Mason straightened slowly. "You think she dropped a curse on her own camp?"

"Wouldn't be the first time a pack rat brought trouble," someone snapped.

Laughter followed, sharp and mean.

"I didn't bring anything!" I said, the words spilling out before I could stop them. "I swear, I've never seen that before."

"Lies." The man who spoke stepped forward , tall, scarred, his yellow eyes glowing faintly in the firelight. "I can smell the pack on you still."

He grabbed my arm before I could move. His grip was firm, tight, like iron, crushing the flesh beneath his fingers. "Maybe we should cut the truth out of you."

"Let her go," Mason said, his voice even.

The rogue didn't move. "You're too soft, Mason. You keep taking in strays, and one day they'll gut you in your sleep."

Mason's knife was at the man's throat before I even saw him move. The blade glinted, reflecting the fire's thin light.

"Say that again," Mason murmured.

The man's jaw clenched. After a tense heartbeat, he released me and stepped back. Mason didn't lower the knife until the other rogues looked away.

I rubbed my arm where bruises were already forming. Mason noticed, his gaze flicking to my skin, then away. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," I lied.

He turned back to the emblem in the dirt. "Whatever this is, it's not pack work. But it means someone's tracking these woods."

A low murmur spread again , quieter this time, edged with fear.

"Tracking us?" a rogue asked.

Mason nodded once. "Maybe. Or testing boundaries. Either way, it's a warning."

The fire crackled, spitting embers into the cold night. I could feel their stares on me , suspicion crawling like insects beneath my skin.

I took a step back. "You think it's me, don't you?"

No one answered.

Mason's voice was steady. "If someone's coming, we'll be ready. Get some rest."

The others hesitated before drifting off into the shadows, muttering under their breath. The only sound left was the wind tugging through the trees and the whisper of the knife sliding back into Mason's belt.

He kicked dirt over the emblem, burying it beneath ash and soil. "Don't leave camp tonight," he said without looking at me.

I nodded, though my throat felt tight. "Mason,"

"Just stay close to the fire."

He walked off into the dark, shoulders tense, leaving me alone with the faint glow of embers and the feeling that something unseen was crawling closer.

I sank down beside the dying fire, hugging my knees to my chest. The woods beyond flickered with shadows, and my thoughts wouldn't stop circling the mark , the torn crescent, the claws, the way the air around it had felt heavy.

Something about it called to me. Whispered.

A faint breeze brushed the hair from my face. For a second, I thought I heard it again , the whisper from my dream.

Not all prophecies speak truth. Some speak choice.

I shivered and pressed my hands to the ground, grounding myself in the dirt.

Then I heard the crunch of a twig behind me.

I froze. "Mason?"

No answer.

The sound came again, slow and deliberate.

I turned, but the dark behind me seemed to breathe.

Another step.  But this time, it was closer.

"Mason?" My voice came out smaller than I wanted.

A shadow moved between the trees , tall, deliberate, watching.

The air grew colder. My pulse pounded in my ears.

Then a voice, deep and calm, spoke from the dark.

"Running won't help you, little stray."

I couldn't breathe.

The wind shifted, carrying the faintest scent of smoke and blood.

"Who...who are you?" My voice shivered.

I didn't turn to look at who it was.

My pulse spiked.

"Touch her or you're wolf steak." A voice growled from behind me.

I turned and it was...