My pup, Elian, died because my Alpha mate, Malven Wolfsbane, cut off my moon-accounts. Not because our pack was poor—but because his favored she-wolf whispered poison into his ear. He was busy soothing her pup’s fabricated belly pain beneath the healer’s lamps.

I called from the Moonfang Infirmary, blood-moon light flickering over white stone.

“Malven… please,” I begged through the crystal link. “He’s dying.”

“Viora, stop this nonsense,” he snapped. “Ryke is crying in pain. If you summon me again, I’ll invoke the severance rite. Deal with it yourself.”

The link shattered.

Two hours later, my pup died in my arms, his small body shaking as moonfire faded from his veins.

“Mom… it hurts…” he whispered.

I held him long after his heart went still, until the healers pried him from me beneath the silent Moon Mother’s gaze.

That night, I bowed before my father—the Alpha Sovereign I had once defied.

“I will accept Raizen’s bond,” I said.

The rival Alpha King I had rejected because I believed Malven loved me.

Before the bond was announced, I returned to the manor for one last thing: Malven’s bloodmark on the severance decree.

He was laughing with his favored she-wolf when I entered. Her pup lunged for my satchel, tore it open—and the urn etched with lunar runes shattered.

Elian’s ashes spilled across the sacred marble.

I screamed and fell to my knees, scooping what I could—until the pup giggled and ground his heel into my pup’s remains.

Malven didn’t stop him.

He snarled at me instead. “Viora, stop behaving like a mad wolf!”

By dawn, the bond was severed. Then I disappeared.

Weeks later, whispers spread across the Wolfsbane Pack.

When Malven finally saw us standing together beneath the coronation moon, his blood ran cold.

He stepped forward, desperate.

“Viora… come back to the pack. Please. I was wrong. I’ll make it right. Just return to me.”

——

My mate, Malven Wolfsbane, was an Alpha Lord—ruler of the Wolfsbane Pack.

Cold. Unapproachable. Revered by wolves who would spill blood at a single command.

And yet, on the night our pup was dying, he was in another moon-healer’s hall, soothing his favored she-wolf because her pup suffered nothing more than a minor stomach pang.

I called him from the Moonveil Infirmary. I begged him to release my sealed lunar accounts. I needed silver marks for the high healer. I needed the transfer now—or my pup would not survive.

He exhaled sharply, irritated. “Viora, stop acting. Ryke is truly unwell. I won’t indulge your jealousy.”

“Malven, please,” I cried. “Elian can’t breathe. Just let me pay the healer—”

“If you summon me again, I’ll invoke the severance rite,” he cut in. “Deal with it yourself.”

The bond-link went dead.

Just like that. As if our pup meant nothing.

So I stayed alone beside a pup who trusted me with his entire world.

I held Elian’s hand as moonlight drained from his skin. I whispered to him while the crystal runes dimmed to silence. I kissed his brow and watched his chest still forever. My arms locked around him until the healers gently forced me to let go.

***

The Moonfire Chamber smelled of scorched stone and cold iron. Ash motes drifted through pale light filtering from the high windows. Perhaps some of them already belonged to another grieving mother.

Soon, my pup would join them.

I stood in a black mourning robe hanging loose on my hollow body. My eyes were swollen, but no tears came anymore.

I slipped my hand beneath the white shroud and touched Elian’s fingers—cold, unmoving. I placed two small blue paper stars into his palm. I had folded them the night before with trembling hands, unsure what a mother was meant to give her pup for his final crossing.

“Elian…”

The attendants exchanged looks and drew back the cloth.

There he was. My Elian.

Seven winters old, yet far too small, as though life had been starving him long before death arrived.

Cracked lips. A fragile chest. Bruises from healing needles marked his arms.

There was no peace in him—only fear. Only pain. All because his Alpha father chose another wolf’s pup over his own.

I stood frozen. Too tired to scream. Too empty to cry. I had sworn to protect him.

And I failed.

A healer murmured, “I’m sorry. The sickness spread too quickly. Without the Moon Sage, there was no chance.”

I said nothing.

I brushed his hair from his eyes. He always hated when it fell there.

Then I whispered, “You may release him. Let him go where pain cannot follow.”

They hesitated, then placed his tiny body into the moonfire. Perhaps they pitied me. Perhaps they felt nothing.

I felt nothing too.

Elian was free now. No more waiting for love that never came. No more questions that cut me open every time.

Mom, why doesn’t Father visit me?

Mom, why does he only care about Ryke?

Mom, did I do something wrong?

I remembered every lie I told to shield him. Every truth I swallowed to keep his heart whole.

But Malven broke him anyway.

My mate sealed my accounts while our pup was dying. He chose his favored she-wolf’s pup over his own blood.

I pressed my cheek to Elian’s forehead and whispered, “Mama’s here. Mama’s here. You have me.”

But I was too late.

He crossed the veil without waiting for his father. Without hearing Malven’s voice one last time. Without the healer who could have saved him—because I could not pay.

Ever since Rivelle returned with her gentle smiles and false tears, Malven treated me as a threat. He confined me within the stronghold. Called me unstable. Told the entire dominion I was jealous, delusional, dangerous.

“You harmed Rivelle and her pup,” he once said coldly. “I’ll make you repay it twice over.”

And he did. He stripped my life down to nothing but loss.

Now I stood outside the Moonfire Hall, clutching the urn they gave me.

Small. Light. Blue.

Elian loved blue. I pressed it to my chest as if it still held warmth.

“We’re going home, my pup,” I whispered.

The sun shone bright. The air was warm. Yet winter crept beneath my skin. I felt empty. I felt alone.

When I returned to the Alpha stronghold with Elian’s ashes, the first thing I saw was Rivelle. Her hand rested on Malven’s arm. She leaned in and kissed his cheek in gratitude.

“Thank you for staying last night,” she said softly. “Ryke feels much better now. But is Elian well? Viora called earlier and sounded so—”

Malven didn’t move away. His hand stayed at her waist. Calm. At ease.

“Viora exaggerates to gain attention,” he said carelessly. “She’s always been dramatic. Unbalanced. A poor mother. I regret coddling Elian—he grew weak.”

I stopped breathing. The urn nearly slipped from my hands. I thought I had no tears left, but they fell anyway—silent and burning.

If he wanted her, he could keep her.

Malven finally noticed me in the corridor. His hand dropped from Rivelle’s waist. His expression flickered—guilt, or perhaps annoyance.

“You should have warned me you were returning,” he muttered. “I would’ve sent someone.”

He didn’t mention the night I begged for help after being stranded near his coastal territory, followed by strangers. He said he was busy.

When I asked for guards, he snapped that his warriors weren’t servants and threatened divorce if I kept acting helpless.

I walked alone that night and nearly vanished into a van. When I called him in terror, he said, You’re foolish for going alone. What did you expect?

But when Rivelle needed transport, he sent escorts. Wolves. Himself.

I tightened my grip on the urn and said quietly, “It’s fine.”

He studied me for a long moment. Something strange crossed his gaze.

“…Did Elian recover?” he finally asked.

I gripped the satchel on my shoulder until my fingers went numb. The weight inside felt heavier than bone—heavier than sin.

“Elian’s—”

The words died in my throat.

A small body crashed into me, sending me sprawling across the moon-polished marble. My wrist burned as it scraped the floor and the urn nearly spilled from the bag. I caught it at the last heartbeat and crushed it to my chest.

“Watch yourself,” I snapped.

It was Ryke, Rivelle’s prized pup, freshly released from the healer’s hall after nothing more than a mild ailment. His young face twisted with the arrogance he learned from the Alpha standing behind him.

“You watch it, fool!” he barked. “Why are you even here?”

Malven’s voice cracked like thunder. “That’s enough, Ryke.”

Then he turned his cold gaze on me. “Viora, he’s a pup. Don’t cause a disturbance.”

Rivelle glided forward, steps soft, intentions softer still. She laid a calming hand on Malven’s chest.

“Please, don’t be angry,” she murmured. “This is my fault again. Ryke and I can leave.”

Malven’s jaw tightened. His finger lifted—pointing at me.

“You did this. Not her.”

Something shattered deeper inside me, in a place I didn’t know could still break. They stood there like a bonded family. I was the outsider who returned carrying ashes.

Ryke lunged for my satchel again, fingers clawing at the clasp.

“I’m hungry. Why are you hugging it? Is there food inside?”

The urn slipped free.

It struck the floor with a hollow crack that stole the air from my lungs.

“No—don’t touch that!”

Ryke crouched, reaching for it with filthy hands. “What is it? I want it.”

I shoved him away. Hard. I didn’t care anymore. Everything worth protecting was already gone.

Malven roared, “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

His face twisted with rage. “He just left the healer’s hall. He’s still weak—and you dare strike him?”

Ryke screamed and clawed at me, yanking my hair until my eyes burned.

“It’s Elian’s,” I choked. “It’s… my pup.”

Rivelle gently pulled Malven back, her voice coated in false kindness. “Let it go. If it belonged to Elian, Ryke shouldn’t touch it.”

Malven scoffed. “This is my stronghold. I decide what is touched—and by whom.”

I pressed the urn to my chest until my ribs ached and walked away without a word.

To him, I must have looked petulant. A dramatic Luna playing the victim. I heard his derisive breath behind me. His muttered insult.

Then the sound of him escorting Rivelle and Ryke out like an Alpha king sending honored guests to their carriage.

That night, in the chamber he no longer shared with me, I packed my belongings. I completed the severance decree with hands that wouldn’t stop shaking. I placed Elian’s urn beside me on the bed and stared at it until dawn bled through the curtains.

***

That night, Elian came to me again.

In the dream, he wandered a long corridor of crystal moon-glass. No shadows. No reflections. Bare feet padding softly as his shoulders trembled. Tears streamed down his face while he clutched his stomach in pain.

He kept calling for him.

“Father? Where are you?”

Not me. Never me. He wanted Malven. He always did.

My heart broke open inside the dream. I chased him, calling his name, begging him to stop. But the faster I ran, the farther he drifted—small hands dissolving like mist.

I collapsed to my knees, sobbing.

“I’m sorry, my pup. I’m so sorry. I should have protected you. I should never have left you alone.”

I repeated it until my throat burned.

***

When I woke, I was already on the floor beside the bed. My hands were clasped in prayer though I didn’t remember kneeling. I begged the Moon Mother that wherever my pup had gone, he felt no pain. That death gave him the mercy life never did.

The Alpha stronghold remained silent. Malven’s dominion was built on power and fear, yet it was the loneliest place in the realm.

Beautiful stone. Gleaming halls. Endless emptiness.

It had never been a home.

Then the memories returned.

Malven’s change. His slow withdrawal. The way Rivelle’s return sharpened him into something cold enough to cut.

He compared the boys often.

“Ryke is strong,” he once said, pouring firewine. “Good presence. Healthy. Resilient.”

Unlike Elian. The words were never spoken—but they sliced all the same.

Only weeks before Elian fell ill, Malven looked me in the eye and said, “Sometimes I wonder if that pup is even mine. And if he is, he’s unfit to inherit my legacy. Too frail. Always sick. Weak blood weakens a kingdom.”

I couldn’t breathe.

I spent years reshaping myself into what he might accept—quieter, sharper, more obedient. But I never believed he would withdraw his bond from our pup.

Elian adored him. Idolized him. He showed Malven every drawing, every little charm made from foil and hope, but Malven never looked.

My pup died without his father’s scent in the room. Without his voice. Without the Alpha he worshipped lifting a single claw.

Footsteps sounded outside. Unsteady. Drunk. Muffled voices followed.

I cracked the door and saw Malven leaning against Rivelle, his arm wrapped around her waist as she supported him.

“Are you sure you want to check on her?” Rivelle whispered, fingers tracing his jaw. “It’s late. She might still be awake.”

Malven laughed low. “Why would I? She was cruel to Ryke.”

Rivelle guided him into her chamber, leaving the door carelessly ajar. I heard everything—her soft cries, his rough groans, the bed striking the wall.

I didn’t move. I didn’t weep. I folded my hands like a forgotten spirit and stared at the wall until morning came.

***

At dawn, I prepared his hangover broth as I always had. The kitchen smelled warm, though I felt nothing. Malven entered, rubbing his temples.

He sat, avoiding my gaze. “I came back late,” he muttered. “Didn’t want to wake you. Slept in the guest quarters.”

I nodded. “Alright.”

He relaxed instantly—thinking I was still the quiet Luna. The obedient one. The woman who never questioned.

Then I slid a parchment across the table.

The severance decree.

“Elian isn’t improving. I need to return to the Moonveil Infirmary,” I said quietly. “Sign this travel sigil.”

Malven didn’t even look at the parchment. He scrawled his mark with a careless flick of his claw and shoved it back.

“Go,” he said flatly. “Handle your own pup.”

I left before the sun dared crest the horizon. The Alpha stronghold lay silent behind me, cold as its stone bones—never a home at all.

***

The journey to my father’s territory took five hours. The gate rose taller than memory—black iron gates crowned with spikes, sentinels standing like carved wolves along the walls.

Everything was immaculate. Controlled. Unmoving.

However, I was not. Thinner. Worn down in places no eye could see. Aged in ways no mirror could name.

I stepped from the car alone. No attendants came. No greeting awaited.

The halls stretched empty, watching. Judging.

Then I saw him.

My father—the Alpha Sovereign who raised me in silence, whose gaze cut sharper than steel.

“You,” he said. “After all your defiance. After burying your own life with your choices.”

I didn’t bow. I didn’t weep. Malven’s dominion had drained that from me.

“The alliance you once proposed,” I said evenly, “does it still stand?”

“No. That Alpha is mated now—to someone who doesn’t stain my bloodline.”

He turned to close the door. I held his gaze. He stilled, hand on the handle.

“But,” he added slowly, “his younger brother remains unmated. Your sister was meant for him, but ambition called her elsewhere. You—if you accept—may take her place.”

I didn’t question. I didn’t hesitate. I nodded.

I would survive. I would play their game. I would reclaim whatever remained of myself.

That night, they placed me in a guest chamber smelling of dust and cold polish. Even the servants avoided my eyes. It felt as though I had died long ago and returned as a shadow.

Before midnight, I was summoned.

The younger brother. The overlooked heir.

Raizen Wildbriar.

He waited in the old observatory, dressed in black, moonlight carving sharp lines across his face. I expected frailty. Instead, he moved like a hunting wolf—measured, assessing, dangerous.

“So,” he said softly, “the runaway Luna returns.”

I couldn’t speak.

“Tell me,”his voice lowered, edged with threat, “are you here to seek absolution… or vengeance?”

I bit my lip to stop the tremor.

He gave a low chuckle and turned toward the window. Moonlight spilled across the glass floor like blades.

“Go,” he said. “Return when your bond is fully severed.”

I wanted to protest. To say it wasn’t so simple. The words lodged in my throat.

I left and returned to the empty room—no blankets, no memories, no proof I had ever belonged anywhere. I sat on the bed, breathing, trying to remember who I was before love hollowed me out.

***

I didn’t sleep.

Dawn arrived without warmth, only more silence. My body moved by habit alone—every motion unchanged since Elian fell ill. Rest had long abandoned me.

The keep remained cold, sterile, alive with a quiet that crushed sound. I sat at the long table when the communicator chimed. Malven’s name glowed on the crystal.

I answered.

“We’re heading out,” he said lightly. “Ryke wants to try sky-sailing. Rivelle couldn’t say no—you know how she is.” He laughed. “My parents will stop by later. Make sure everything’s prepared.”

“Alright.”

The link ended. No date mentioned. No word of Elian.

Today was Elian’s birthday.

I returned to the glass-walled stronghold. Each step echoed. My hands shook as I went straight to my chamber—the only place that still held him.

I lit a small candle beside his portrait and the blue urn beneath it. His favorite dinosaur plush rested against the wall, waiting.

Elian once begged me to take him sky-sailing. He’d seen it in a moving picture and promised to wear his “pirate socks” while flying over the sea. I remembered the light in his eyes. Malven had laughed—sharp, dismissive—said it was too dangerous for a fragile pup. Said he’d be blown away.

Now Ryke would fly. And Elian didn’t even have a birthday.

I stood by the door, trembling, until the gates chimed. The front doors opened. Footsteps echoed. Servants ushered them in like royalty.

Malven’s parents.

I sank against the wall, silent. They didn’t smile. His mother’s gaze brushed over me with open contempt.

“Where’s the sickly pup?” she asked coldly. “Dead—or still clinging to breath?”