The pack house stood like a silent castle among the trees—majestic, towering and bathed in golden light as the afternoon sun streamed through its arched windows. Casey had only ever passed by it from a distance, always quick to lower her gaze and walk faster, but today, for the first time, she was walking through its grand entrance.
Her boot clicked softly against the polished marble floors, and the air smelled faintly of sandalwood and pine. The intricate carvings along the wooden beams told stories of old—wolves howling at the moon, warriors kneeling in blood and glory, and celestial patterns that shimmered faintly under the sunbeams. Servants moved quietly through the corridors, each one with a task, a purpose, and a sense of belonging.
She did not belong here. The extravagance only reminded her of the life she had lost—the grace she once held as a proud Luna of her noble lineage. Her hands now rough with work and soil, had once worn silks. Her feet, now sore and calloused, had once danced across ballroom floors.
Casey exhaled softly and kept walking.
She hadn't meant to stumble upon it, but there it was—the Alpha's throne. Grand and imposing, carved from dark wood with silver accents. And beside it, smaller, but no less elegant, was the Luna's. Her breath caught in her throat.
"She's not here any more," a voice said behind her.
Casey turned to find a young maid, adjusting a nearby vase of flowers.
"The Luna," the maid continued gently, "she passed away a long time ago, and since then, the Alpha's ruled alone."
Casey nodded slowly, the information sinking deep into her heart. She didn't ask how the Luna died. It felt too prying. Instead, she offered a smile and whispered, "Thank you."
She then made her way to the garden.
It was in vast and in need of tending—overgrown vines snaked through rose bushes, and weeds sprouted through the once carefully manicured soil. She rolled up her sleeves and got to work. Her fingers drugged into the soil with practiced ease, and she began playing the tiny blue blooms she'd brought with her—forget-me-nots. Her favourite. Soft, delicate things that whispered of memory and longing.
From a tall, arched window above the garden, Alpha Vlad stood with his hands behind his back, watching her. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes did not move. Not even when Leywin stepped into the room.
"The counsel meeting starts in fifteen minutes," Leywin reminded him.
Vlad didn't answer right away.
He continued to watch as Casey wiped away sweat from her face and reached for another flower.
Leywin, used to Alpha's long silence, waited without question.
Finally, Vlad spoke, his voice quiet. "She plants forget-me-nots."
Leywin glanced out the window, but said nothing. It wasn't his place to speak of such things.
That evening. Casey her first herbal medicine class. It was part of her new duties—learning how to assist in the clinic. The smaller classroom in the lower wing of healer's hall smelled of dried herbs, smoke, and parchment.
The Elder who taught them was Ben with age but moved surprisingly with grace. Her hair was pure white, braided down her back like a silver rope, and her eyes were clouded but still sharp.
Casey sat at the back, silent as the others around her eagerly asked questions. She took notes, watched and listened. The information flowed into her like water to a dry soil—names of herbs, their mixtures for pain relief, their uses, salves for wounds.
But one question burned her throat.
She waited until near the end of the session, when the others had quieted. Her voice, barely above a whisper.
"Elder, is it possible to restore a wolf who was lost to a wolf—binding bow?"
The room fell into a heavy silence. The Elder paused mid-sentence, her hand frozen on the diagram she'd drawn on the board. Her gaze turned slowly towards Casey, as if peering through the haze of memory.
"A wolf– binding vow," she repeated.
Casey nodded once.
The Elder set down her chalk, "Such things are not done by hands or herbs, child. A vow like that...it severs the spirit. Only the Moon goddess could restore what was lost in that way."
Casey felt her heart twist.
She whispered. "I see."
The rest of the lesson passed in a blur, her mind a whirlpool of thoughts and pain. When she gathered her things and began to leave, she was called back by one of the guards.
"The Alpha wants to see you."
Her heart jumped.
She followed the guard through the dim hallways until she reached a quiet room at the back of the house.
Vlad stood with his arms folded, watching her with those unreadable eyes.
"You asked your teacher something," he said, voice low.
Casey froze. "I… I didn't mean to offend."
"You didn't," Vlad said. "But I want to know—what happened to your wolf?"
Her throat tightened. The words lodged there refused to rise.
She looked away.
"I can't feel her," she said finally, her voice a whisper. "Not like I used to. She's… quiet. I made a vow. To protect someone. And in doing so, I lost her."
Vlad was silent.
Then, so softly it was almost a thought: "You're still standing."
Casey blinked at him.
"Most who lose their wolf lose themselves. You didn't."
She didn't know what to say to that. No one had ever seen her strength—not really. Not since everything was taken from her.