For twenty-five years, I devoted myself to my mate and my son. I buried my own wants so deeply that, somewhere along the way, I forgot I ever had them.

But on the night of our twenty-fifth mating anniversary, I allowed myself one small hope.

The packhouse was warm from the firewood burning in the stone hearth. Outside, the wind carried the distant howls of patrol wolves returning from the borders. Inside, I stood quietly beside the long oak table, my fingers twisting together as I watched my husband.

Alpha Theron Darkmoor sat at the head of the table, scanning reports brought by one of his warriors earlier that evening. His brow was tense, his dark hair streaked with silver now, though age had done little to soften the sharpness in his features.

I swallowed hard.

“Theron,” I said softly. “Do you remember what you promised me when we completed the mating bond?”

He barely looked up. “What now, Elyria?”

My chest tightened at the irritation in his tone, but I forced a smile anyway.

“We never truly celebrated our union,” I murmured. “There was no ceremony beneath the Moon Goddess, no feast, no journey together afterward. The rogues were attacking the borders back then, and afterward… life simply continued.”

He said nothing.

“So I thought maybe…” My voice trembled slightly. “For our twenty-fifth anniversary, perhaps we could travel to the southern territories for a few days. Just the two of us. I heard the Moonfall Cliffs are beautiful during the winter moons.”

Finally, he looked at me.

And the expression on his face made my stomach drop.

“Travel?” he repeated sharply. “Have you lost your senses?”

I blinked.

Then he laughed—a cold, humorless sound.

“You’re far too old to be entertaining foolish fantasies like that.” His amber eyes narrowed. “Do you know what state this pack is in? Half the allied packs are withdrawing trade agreements because of the drought in the eastern hunting lands, and you’re thinking about strolling through Moonfall Cliffs like some pampered Luna?”

His words struck harder than claws.

“I wasn’t asking for much,” I whispered. “I only thought… maybe this once…”

“This once?” he snapped, rising from his chair. “You speak as if I’ve deprived you of something. Everything you have came from me—from this pack. While I carried the burden of keeping our people alive, what exactly did you do besides stay in this packhouse?”

My throat burned.

“I raised our son,” I said weakly.

“And countless servants helped you do even that.” He scoffed. “You’ve lived comfortably for twenty-five years while I bled for this pack.”

Every word peeled something raw inside me.

“I only wanted to experience something for myself,” I said quietly. “You once promised me that when things became peaceful, you would take me to see the western sea.”

Theron’s expression darkened further.

“You sound ungrateful, Elyria.” His voice turned icy. “Maybe you should learn from your cousin, Marisella. Now there is a woman worthy of admiration. Strong. Intelligent. A true Luna in every sense. She stands beside her Alpha as an equal instead of clinging to childish dreams.”

My hands shook violently.

The ceramic cup I’d been holding slipped from my fingers and shattered across the stone floor.

The sharp crack echoed through the hall.

A growl immediately sounded from the adjoining room.

“What is this noise?” my father barked as he entered.

Orion Darkveil still carried the intimidating presence of a former Beta despite his age. His gray eyes swept across the broken pieces at my feet with disgust.

“Unbelievable,” he snarled. “You cannot even hold a cup properly anymore?”

I lowered my head instantly.

“I’m sorry, Father.”

“Sorry?” He scoffed. “Do apologies replace what was broken? Do you know how difficult it is for this pack to maintain supplies through winter?”

His gaze raked over me with open disappointment.

“You are the same age as Marisella, yet she carries herself with dignity and strength. Look at you.” His lip curled. “You shuffle around this packhouse like a lifeless ghost. Sometimes I truly wonder how different things would’ve been if Marisella had been born my daughter instead.”

The bond in my chest ached.

Theron chuckled awkwardly, though amusement still lingered in his eyes.

“Don’t be too harsh on her, Father,” he said lightly. “Elyria tries in her own way.”

Then he looked at me.

“You should not take criticism so personally,” he added. “We only want you to improve yourself. Marisella has qualities worth learning from.”

But my father only snorted.

“Improve?” he repeated bitterly. “Even Theron once admitted he regretted mating so young. Everyone knew Marisella would have made the stronger Luna.”

Silence filled the hall.

I stopped breathing for a moment.

“And yet,” my father continued cruelly, “Theron still accepted you as his mate. You should thank the Moon Goddess every day for that blessing.”

Something inside me cracked.

Not loudly.

Not dramatically.

Just quietly… like old ice finally giving way beneath too much weight.

I crouched to gather the shattered ceramic pieces with trembling fingers. A jagged edge sliced across my palm instantly.

Blood welled up fast, bright crimson against pale skin.

But I barely felt it.

The pain in my chest was far worse.

Neither of them moved toward me.

Neither of them cared.

They continued talking above me as though I were nothing more than another servant cleaning the floor.

Then Theron said casually, almost laughing, “Marisella would have been admirable as a Luna. But Elyria…” He shrugged. “Elyria is simply convenient.”

Convenient.

The word hollowed me out completely.

Like worn furniture kept around because replacing it required effort.

Like an old cloak no one bothered throwing away.

I gathered the remaining shards with both bleeding hands now, ignoring the sting as blood smeared across my skin.

Still, no one offered help.

No one asked if I was hurt.

I rose silently and walked toward the wash basin near the kitchen hearth. The cold water turned pink, then red, before finally running clear again.

For a long moment, I stared at my reflection in the darkened window beside the sink.

A tired woman stared back at me.

Faded eyes.

Bent shoulders.

No spark left.

When had I become this person?

Later that evening, the dining bell rang through the packhouse.

Like always, I prepared the meal myself despite the cooks offering assistance. Theron had requested venison stew earlier that morning, so I spent hours making it exactly the way he preferred.

I carried each bowl carefully to the table while the others spoke amongst themselves.

Our son barely glanced at me.

Theron took a spoonful of stew.

Then immediately spat it back into the bowl.

“The hell is this?” he barked.

The entire table fell silent.

“It tastes awful.” His face twisted with disgust as he shoved the bowl away. “Can’t you do even one thing correctly?”

I blinked slowly, my fingers tightening around the wooden ladle until my knuckles turned pale.

“I-I’ll make another pot,” I whispered, already reaching for his bowl.

Alpha Theron slammed the spoon against the table hard enough to make the dishes rattle.

“Oh, come now, Elyria.” His voice dripped with irritation. “If you’re still sulking over what I said earlier, this is a pathetic way to show it.”

I froze.

He leaned back in his chair with a scoff. “What is this? Punishment? You expect me to eat swamp water because your feelings got hurt?” His sharp amber eyes narrowed at me. “You did not even try. Preparing meals is the only responsibility you have in this packhouse.”

The only responsibility you have.

The words echoed louder than the sound of the spoon striking wood.

To them, that was all my existence amounted to.

Cooking meals.

Washing clothes.

Keeping the hearth warm.

Making sure their beds were prepared before nightfall.

I was the shadow moving silently through the halls of the packhouse while everyone else lived important lives.

It did not matter that I woke before sunrise every morning to prepare food for the warriors returning from patrol.

It did not matter that I stayed awake waiting for Theron whenever he returned late from alliance meetings in neighboring territories.

It did not matter that I raised our son mostly alone while Theron traveled between packs handling trade agreements and disputes.

None of it mattered because I was only a Luna in title.

Not in respect.

Not in value.

A real Luna stood beside her Alpha and advised him before the council fire. A real Luna was admired.

I was simply useful.

Once, long ago, I believed this life meant something.

I thought caring for my mate and tending to our home was honorable. The Moon Goddess herself blessed family bonds, did she not?

But what had all those years truly given me?

A son who rarely visited the packhouse anymore unless duty required it.

A mate who looked at me as though I were another burden strapped to his shoulders.

A father who spent half my life wishing another woman had been born in my place.

And perhaps the cruelest truth of all was this—

I allowed it.

I let myself fade quietly into the background until no one remembered there had once been more to me than this.

Tears blurred my vision as I lowered my head.

“I’ll prepare a fresh stew,” I said weakly.

Before anyone could answer, the heavy packhouse doors opened.

The sharp click of heels echoed across the stone floors.

“Well,” a smooth familiar voice said lightly, “this feels tense.”

My chest tightened instantly.

Marisella.

Of course it was her.

Even her presence carried elegance. Her dark silver cloak draped perfectly over her shoulders, embroidered with the crescent emblem gifted to high-ranking pack envoys. Moonstones glittered at her throat and wrists, reflecting the firelight with every graceful movement.

Marisella always looked untouchable.

Confident.

Admired.

The kind of woman people naturally turned toward.

The daughter my father had always wanted.

“I came to deliver the trade ledgers from the Northern Ridge Pack,” she said warmly, lifting a leather satchel. “I thought Theron might want to review them tonight so the council can finalize everything before the next full moon.”

My father immediately straightened in his seat.

“Marisella!” His entire expression brightened. “Come sit with us.”

Her eyes moved toward the table.

“Oh?” she said pleasantly. “You’re all dining already? Then perhaps I can join. I have been traveling since dawn, and the stew smells wonderful.” She smiled toward me. “Elyria always cooks well.”

Theron snorted.

“Not tonight.” He pushed the bowl away with obvious disgust. “It tastes terrible.”

Marisella blinked.

“I think she forgot seasoning exists altogether,” Theron continued dryly. “Honestly, the warriors would reject this.”

Heat flooded my face.

“How about we just head into town instead?” Theron suddenly said, standing from his seat. “The Silver Fang Tavern reopened after renovations. We might as well eat something decent.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely,” Marisella replied with an easy smile.

Father nodded immediately. “I heard they brought chefs from the western territories.”

Then Marisella looked at me.

“Elyria, come with us.”

For one brief, foolish moment, hope flickered inside me.

But Theron answered before I could even open my mouth.

“She can’t,” he said dismissively with a wave of his hand. “There’s still work to do around the packhouse.”

His eyes barely glanced at me.

“She can eat the stew herself so it doesn’t go to waste. Besides, we’ll mostly be discussing pack matters and trade routes. You know Elyria has no interest in those things.”

No interest.

As if anyone had ever allowed me to have one.

As if I did not dream of leaving these walls even for a single evening.

As if I did not want, just once, to sit at a table where someone served me instead.

Marisella hesitated slightly.

Then her smile returned.

“I’ll bring you something back from town then, cousin,” she said kindly. “Maybe honey cakes from the market.”

I forced myself to nod.

“Thank you.”

A few moments later, they were gone.

Their laughter echoed through the packhouse halls as servants opened the doors for them. I heard Theron’s deep voice, my father’s booming laugh, Marisella’s soft amusement blending together before fading into the distance.

No one said goodbye to me.

Silence settled heavily after they left.

I stood alone in the dining hall, surrounded by the smell of burnt herbs and disappointment.

Slowly, I sat down in Theron’s abandoned chair.

Then I lifted the same bowl he had spat into.

I tasted the stew.

Bland.

Too much water.

Too little salt.

He was right.

I had ruined it.

But not because I wanted revenge.

Not because I wished to hurt him.

I simply…

Could not taste anything anymore.

Numbness had settled so deeply inside me that even flavors seemed distant now.

My gaze drifted slowly around the packhouse dining hall.

The walls I had scrubbed myself after winter storms stained them with soot.

The curtains I stitched by hand during the famine years because the pack could not afford luxuries.

The wooden floors I knelt on countless times to polish before gatherings.

The winters I spent decorating the halls beneath moon lanterns so the pack would feel warmth during the cold season.

The birthdays.

The harvest feasts.

The full moon ceremonies.

Twenty-five years of devotion lived inside these walls.

And still…

I was not treated like a mate.

Not treated like a Luna.

I was treated like hired help that had overstayed her usefulness.

And somehow, that realization hurt more than every cruel word spoken tonight.

Quietly, I finished the bowl of stew myself.

Then I cleaned the table.

Washed every dish.

Wiped every counter.

Folded every cloth neatly like I always did.

When everything was finished, I climbed the staircase slowly and entered the bedroom Theron and I once shared as newly bonded mates.

The room felt enormous now.

Cold.

Empty.

The bed that once held whispered promises beneath moonlit nights now felt unfamiliar, like it belonged to strangers.

I sat at the edge of it and pressed a trembling hand against my chest where the mating bond rested faintly beneath my skin.

“I chose this,” I whispered brokenly.

At every insult…

Every dismissal…

Every lonely night…

I stayed.

I allowed them to shape me into someone small enough to ignore.

Someone silent enough to forget.

Tears finally spilled freely down my cheeks.

But through the ache, another thought slowly surfaced.

Quiet.

Fragile.

Dangerous.

Maybe I did not have to remain this way forever.

Maybe there were still pieces of myself buried beneath all this emptiness.

Pieces waiting to breathe again.

Before I became invisible.

And as distant laughter echoed faintly from outside the packhouse gates, I finally cried without restraint—

For the young woman I used to be.

And for the woman I still might become.

I slipped quietly from the bed before dawn fully settled over the pack grounds, careful not to wake Theron sleeping beside me. Pale moonlight filtered through the tall windows of the Alpha chambers, silver stretching across stone walls and thick furs. For a moment, I stood there remembering when waking beside my mate used to make me feel loved instead of painfully alone.

Then I crossed the room toward the wooden cabinet tucked into the corner.

That cabinet was the only thing in the packhouse that truly felt mine. Not the kitchens I spent decades tending. Not the endless duties expected of a Luna. Not the grand halls everyone praised me for maintaining. Those belonged to the pack, to Theron, to the family I had spent twenty-five years serving without complaint.

But inside that cabinet were the few things I had bought for myself.

The moment I opened it, my breath caught.

The carved wooden box on the second shelf sat empty.

I froze before frantically opening drawers with shaking hands. The moonflower powder I bought from southern traders was gone. The berry lip pigments wrapped carefully in silk cloth had disappeared too, along with the crystal perfume vial I had admired for nearly a year before finally buying it.

Gone.

Panic rose sharply in my chest as I searched the shelves again and again, though deep down I already knew the truth.

Without thinking, I hurried downstairs.

Theron sat near the hearth in the main hall, trade scrolls spread across the low table before him. Cedarwood smoke filled the air, but it did nothing to ease the ache growing inside me.

“Theron,” I asked carefully, “have you seen the cosmetics I kept upstairs?”

He barely looked up.

“Oh, those?” he replied casually. “I gave them to Marisella.”

The words struck so hard I forgot how to breathe.

“You gave them to her?” My voice cracked. “Theron, those were mine. I only bought them last week.”

That finally made him glance at me, amusement flickering across his face.

“Elyria,” he said with a short laugh, “what exactly do you need cosmetics for?”

I stared at him silently.

“It is not like you attend gatherings anymore,” he continued. “And honestly, you are too old to concern yourself with things like that now.”

My chest tightened painfully.

“No, truly.” He leaned back in his chair, almost entertained by my expression. “Have you looked at yourself lately? Those things no longer suit you.” Then he smiled faintly. “Marisella, on the other hand, carries herself beautifully. She works hard for this pack. She deserves nice things.”

Something inside me cracked.

“It was mine,” I said louder, my hands trembling violently. “I bought those with my own money.”

Theron rolled his eyes immediately.

“Your own money?” he repeated flatly. “Elyria, everything you own comes from me.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the truth burned too deeply.

Those things had not come from him.

For five years, I had cared for the moonblossoms and silver roses behind the packhouse myself. I watered them before sunrise and tended them long after everyone slept. During seasonal gatherings, I quietly sold flower bundles to merchants and visiting wolves, saving every moonstone coin little by little until I could finally buy something for myself.

Not once had I asked Theron for money that was not meant for the household.

I already knew how he would react.

Like I was selfish.

Like I was a burden.

So years ago, I stopped asking altogether.

And now the one thing I bought with pride after years of effort had been handed to another woman without hesitation.

Theron sighed heavily, as though I were the difficult one.

“Stop making such a fuss over something trivial,” he muttered. “I will replace them eventually.”

Eventually.

The word felt hollow, dismissive. Like he was calming a servant instead of speaking to his mate.

“You really do not care about me anymore,” I whispered before I could stop myself.

His expression hardened instantly.

“You are being dramatic again,” he snapped. “For once, think beyond your own feelings. Marisella practically saved this pack after securing those trade alliances. She deserves appreciation.” His voice turned colder. “You would not understand matters like this anyway. You know nothing about leadership or negotiations.”

Then he waved dismissively toward the kitchens.

“Now stop overreacting and prepare breakfast. I am starving.”

His words hurt more than a slap ever could.

I turned away before he saw the tears gathering in my eyes, but just as I reached the doorway, his lazy voice stopped me again.

“Oh, and I will be leaving tomorrow for a week,” he said casually. “There is a diplomatic journey to the southern territories. At least you will finally get a break from taking care of me.”

I said nothing.

What was left to say?

So I cooked.

Again.

Just as I always did.

Later that afternoon, our son arrived with his mate. The moment they entered the great hall, I smiled automatically, though it felt strange on my face now, like an expression I no longer recognized.

During dinner, they spoke excitedly about the upcoming trip south.

“I heard the Moon Tide Voyage is beautiful this season,” my daughter-in-law said brightly while servants refilled goblets around the table. “The ocean reflects the moonlight so clearly at night that the water looks silver.”

“There are hot springs too,” my son added with a grin. “And feasts every evening.”

I paused while pouring stew into their bowls.

“I thought this was supposed to be a diplomatic journey,” I murmured quietly.

My son laughed awkwardly.

“Well... partly official, partly recreational,” he explained quickly. “The allied Alphas are combining negotiations with festivities this year.”

Then he smiled at me almost guiltily.

“Do not worry, Mother. We will bring you something back from the southern markets.”

“A carved moonstone ornament would look lovely in your room,” his mate added warmly.

I forced a soft laugh.

“A simple keepsake would already be enough.”

Beside me, Father shook his head.

“If only you had taken interest in pack affairs years ago, perhaps you could have attended events like this too.”

I nodded quietly and smiled again because pretending no longer even hurt. Somewhere along the years, pain had settled into something dull and permanent, like an old wound that never healed properly.

That night, after everyone retired, I sat alone packing Theron’s clothes into the traveling trunk prepared for his journey. Thick fur-lined cloaks. Formal tunics embroidered with the Darkmoor crest. Ceremonial garments meant for gatherings beneath the full moon.

As I reached for another folded shirt, a soft glow flickered across the moonstone communication mirror resting on the desk nearby.

I frowned slightly.

Theron rarely allowed anyone near his correspondence mirror.

The enchanted stone pulsed again, lighting the dark room with pale silver. Without thinking, I glanced toward it.

Then froze.

A message shimmered across the mirror’s surface.

Moon Tide Voyage Reservation Confirmed.

My heartbeat stumbled painfully.

Slowly, I stepped closer.

The glowing text shifted, revealing more details.

Private ocean suite.

Sacred hot spring access.

Bonded couples’ retreat package.

Moonlit ceremonial dinners.

My fingers trembled violently.

Then I noticed another document attached beneath the reservation.

An invitation.

I stared blankly as enchanted ink revealed the names written across the page.

Alpha Theron Darkmoor

and

Lady Marisella Darkveil

request the honor of your presence

as we celebrate our sacred union beneath the blessing of the Moon Goddess aboard the Moon Tide Voyage.

The world tilted around me.

My knees gave out so suddenly that I collapsed into the chair behind me, one trembling hand covering my mouth as I stared at the glowing words over and over again.

No.

This was not simply a diplomatic journey.

It was not merely an affair hidden behind excuses and late-night meetings anymore.

It was a celebration.

A sacred union.

A public mating ceremony blessed before the Moon Goddess herself.

And everyone already knew.

My son knew.

My father knew.

The family I had spent twenty-five years loving and serving had known all along that Theron intended to replace me with Marisella.

Yet every day, they still sat at my table and allowed me to cook for them, clean for them, smile for them, while they quietly prepared another woman to stand beside my mate.

A broken sound escaped my throat as tears finally spilled freely down my face.

Not because of the cosmetics.

Not because of the journey.

But because I had given these people everything I was.

My youth.

My loyalty.

My love.

My entire life.

And in the end, it had meant absolutely nothing.

I covered my mouth to silence the sobs threatening to escape while laughter echoed faintly through the packhouse halls outside, the people I loved already planning their future together—

A future that no longer had any place for me.