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?”

I parted my lips to answer, but Malven’s father cut in smoothly.

“Enough of that,” he said. “How is Ryke? I heard Rivelle may be carrying again. Is it true?”

I stayed silent, fingers clutching my skirt. My chest ached as though it might split.

“You see,” his mother went on coolly, “she brings new life into Malven’s pack without chaos. No outbursts. Calm. Proper. Unlike… some.”

I lowered my eyes.

Then his father’s voice fell like an iron gavel.

“Go assist the kitchen wolves. But first, pour our tea. Inform Malven we expect him at the Moon Hall next week for our mating anniversary. You may bring your ailing pup if you wish.”

I nodded, voice barely sound. “As you command.”

I went to the hearth-kitchen, told the cook they preferred jasmine leaves, arranged the tray myself. Polished porcelain. Balanced. Flawless. Yet inside me, something was screaming itself raw.

As I set the cups down, my hand trembled. One slipped and shattered against the stone with a sharp, final crack.

His mother gasped—then glared.

“You’ve always been careless,” she snapped. “Even pouring tea is beyond you. Bitter, just like the life you lead.”

I stared at the broken shards, then straightened my spine.

“Forgive me,” I whispered. Not for the cup. Not for today. For the girl who once begged them to accept her. That girl had died with Elian.

They didn’t stay for a meal.

Malven’s parents rose, faces carved from quiet contempt. His mother adjusted her gloves slowly, deliberately.

“I’ll tell Malven how feeble you’ve become. Perhaps now he’ll see the truth. You never belonged here. Never worth the inconvenience.”

The doors closed. Hooves rolled down the drive. Silence reclaimed the stronghold—the same silence that had lived here long before Malven ruled it.

I turned to the maid. “You can stand down. Lunch won’t be needed.”

She nodded. I climbed the stairs, one heavy step at a time. My legs felt borrowed, my body distant.

Halfway up, whispers drifted from the kitchen—low, quick.

“She didn’t even cry.”

“Did you see the urn in her chamber? That pup… Elian… gone.”

“Alpha Malven only speaks of Ryke now. Sends Lady Rivelle moon-flowers. Never visits the burial stone.”

“Even if he did, it wouldn’t matter. Elian was too gentle. Always prey.”

“She used to be Luna here. Now? Just surviving.”

I kept walking. Didn’t turn. Didn’t defend myself. Perhaps they weren’t wrong.

I entered my chamber and closed the door.

My communicator chimed. It was from Malven.

Once. Twice. I stared until it went dark. No message. No follow-up.

The silence returned—heavy, settled, permanent.

***

I changed in quiet.

I chose the soft blue dress Elian loved, stitched with small white clouds. He used to press his tiny hands against it and smile. “Mama, you look like the moms in story scrolls,” he’d say. “The safe kind. The happy kind.”

I lifted his urn, holding it as though I were holding him again, heart to heart. Warm sunlight spilled through the curtains.

I left the stronghold without a word and drove to the only place Elian had ever begged to visit on his name-days—Moonveil Park.

“Just once, Mama,” he’d whisper every year. “I want to see the sea-wolves. I’ll behave. I promise.”

Malven always refused. Too dangerous. Too fragile. Too sickly. The world was perilous for Elian—but never for Ryke.

I bought a pass. Paid for two seats—one for me, one for him.

I kept him with me, told him stories, laughed softly as the sea-creatures leapt through the waves.

Those nearby may have thought me unbalanced—sitting on a bench, murmuring to a blue urn as if it might answer.

I didn’t care.

This day wasn’t for them. Not for Malven. Not for his pack. Not for his bloodline. Not for Ryke.

It was for Elian. Only him.

I lit a small candle by the railing, letting the wind toy with the flame.

“Happy name-day, my pup,” I whispered.

When I returned, night had swallowed the stronghold, turning its glass halls into long, dark veins. The air felt thick. Even the lights seemed afraid to burn bright.

I stepped into the foyer.

And Malven emerged from the shadows.

Before I could draw breath, his hand struck my face—fast, savage. The crack echoed through the halls like thunder. My head slammed into the doorframe. White stars burst across my vision. A ringing filled my ears.