The morning light filtered through the heavy drapes, spilling golden streaks across the plush velvet of Nyma's chambers—the same chambers that had once felt like a sanctuary, now hollow as a tomb. Dust motes swirled in the air, dancing in the soft glow, each one a reminder of time passing, of moments lost that could never be reclaimed.
A faint rustling broke the silence. A familiar voice, gentle yet insistent, called her back from the restless void of sleep.
"Luna, it's time to rise."
Nyma inhaled deeply, tasting lavender and the ghost of embers from a fire that had died hours ago. She blinked away the remnants of broken dreams—dreams where strong arms held her close, where whispered promises meant something more than empty words. Her hand moved instinctively to the curve of her unborn child, a tether to the present, to what mattered most.
But beside her, the sheets remained undisturbed. Cold. Perfectly smooth, as if mocking the hope that had kept her eyes open well past midnight.
The warmth from last evening's reconciliation had been nothing but a cruel mirage.
She said nothing as her omega moved efficiently through the room, drawing out layers of gossamer fabric, silks soft as moonlight. Zara had served her family for years, reading her moods better than most could read books. The quiet routine should have been comforting. Instead, it made the silence between her ribs ache all the more.
"Luna," Zara's voice was carefully neutral, but Nyma caught the slight tremor of concern. "Your brother mentioned the journey would be long. Perhaps the blue silk would travel better?"
Travel. The word hit her like a physical blow. In a few hours, she would leave this place—perhaps forever. And Adrain couldn't even be bothered to spend her last night by her side.
Then, as if suddenly remembering something precious, Zara turned, cradling a small, unmarked box as if it were made of spun glass. The girl hesitated, her usual confidence faltering. "Luna... I found this outside your door this morning. I think—I think it was left for you."
Nyma's pulse quickened. The box was elegant in its simplicity, wrapped in midnight-blue paper with silver ribbon. Her name was written across it in flowing golden script that seemed to catch the morning light. A strange flutter curled in her chest—part intrigue, part desperate hope.
Her fingers brushed the wrapping, hesitant, then determined. She peeled it back with delicate precision, as if the very act might shatter whatever fragile peace remained.
When she opened it, the moment she saw what lay within, her breath caught.
A locket rested against dark velvet—not just any locket, but one of such exquisite craftsmanship it could only have been made by master artisans. Silver so pure it seemed to glow with inner light, set with diamonds that captured and fractured the morning sun into rainbow fragments. At its center, carved with impossible delicacy, was the phases of the moon—from new to full and back again, eternal and perfect.
"Oh," Zara breathed, her composure finally cracking. "Luna, it's beautiful."
Nyma lifted it with trembling fingers, and as she did, she saw the engraving on the back. Words that made her heart stutter:
"For Luna and Little Star—woven in fate, guarded in love."
Each letter seemed to glow with its own light, as if his very devotion had been etched into the silver itself—a vow that neither time nor distance could break.
Her first thought was of Adrain. Who else would call their child "Little Star"? Who else knew that pet name whispered in quiet moments when his hand rested on her belly?
So this was his gift. Not just for the baby shower, but something deeper. A guardian's token, handcrafted not merely with love—but with intention to protect what mattered most.
As she lifted the locket to clasp it around her neck, a faint hum of energy thrummed against her fingertips. The moment the clasp closed—not with a simple click, but with a resonance that seemed to echo through her very bones—power cascaded over her skin like warm honey.
Nyma gasped.
A shiver ran through her, not from cold but from something ancient and protective. Like invisible arms encircling both her and the child she carried, weaving a shield of magic and moonlight that no ordinary force could penetrate. She could feel it—a guardian's embrace, warm and unbreakable.
Adrain had done this? Did he wield such power, or had he commissioned someone with the skill to weave protection into precious metal? The thought sent her heart racing with possibilities she had never considered.
This was more than jewelry. This was a promise made tangible. A silent vow that even when he couldn't be there, his protection would remain.
The doubts that had gnawed at her through the sleepless night melted like frost before dawn. A slow, genuine smile curved her lips—the first in what felt like an eternity. Her fingers curled around the locket, pressing it to her heart where it pulsed in rhythm with her own heartbeat.
She had been too harsh. Too quick to assume the worst. Perhaps despite everything—despite his absences, his divided attention, his maddening silences—he had been thinking of her all along. Planning this. Creating something that would keep them safe even when duty called him elsewhere.
That ember of renewed hope fueled her as Nyma allowed Zara to prepare her for the journey. Soft layers of fabric draped over her frame, a cascade of gossamer folds that moved with every breath like captured starlight. Her hair, a river of midnight silk, was carefully brushed and woven with silver ribbons that matched the locket.
Outside, she could hear Kael and Raina murmuring to one another, their voices carrying the patient but unmistakable edge of urgency. The weight of luggage being loaded onto vehicles created a rhythm of departure that she could no longer ignore.
It was time to leave. But Adrain wasn't here to see her off. The absence cut sharper than she had expected, even with the locket's warmth against her throat.
Steadying herself against the windowsill, she reached through their bond—that invisible thread that connected alpha to luna, husband to wife. Her mental voice carried quiet determination edged with something that might have been longing.
Alpha. Where are you?
Silence stretched, thick and unyielding as winter fog. Each second felt like an hour, and with each passing moment, familiar doubt began to creep back in.
Then, finally, Adrain's reply came through their connection. His mental voice carried that easy confidence that had once made her heart race: Good morning, love! At the grounds, training.
Nyma stilled. Training. Of course. Even on the morning of her departure, pack duties took precedence. Her fingers tightened around the fabric of her dress, smoothing it absently over the curve of her belly as she fought down a familiar surge of disappointment.
Her fingers traced the enchanted locket at her throat, drawing strength from its warmth as she reached through their bond again. Adrain... thank you. For this. She touched the silver reverently. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
A pause. When his mental voice returned, there was something odd in its tone—confusion, perhaps? What do you mean?
The locket. The one you left for me. She couldn't keep the smile from her thoughts. The protection charm—I can feel it working already. How did you manage such powerful magic?
The silence that followed lasted too long. When Adrain finally responded, his mental voice carried a strange note she couldn't quite identify: Nyma, I... what locket?
The world seemed to tilt. The one outside my door this morning. Silver, with diamonds. With our names engraved—'Luna and Little Star.' You called the baby Little Star.
Another pause, longer this time. Love, I didn't leave you a locket. I've been at the grounds since before dawn.
The warmth of the protective charm suddenly felt cold against her skin. If Adrain hadn't left it, then who? And why did it carry such powerful magic? Why did every instinct tell her it was meant to protect her?
About last night, she continued, needing to understand something—anything—about the growing confusion in her chest. Where were you? You never came to bed.
His response carried a weight that made her stomach clench: I know I should have returned.
She waited, pulse throbbing in her temples, the locket seeming to grow heavier with each heartbeat.
Lira had too much to drink, he admitted, his mental voice careful, measured. She was in bad shape.
Nyma stilled mid-step. And?
She almost shifted in the middle of the packhouse. I had to calm her down before things got worse.
Of course. Lira again. Always Lira, needing rescue, demanding attention, pulling Adrain away from everything else that mattered. Nyma's free hand moved protectively to her belly as cold unease seeped through her veins.
You stayed with her?
Another pause that spoke volumes.
She was admitted to the pack infirmary, his voice was unreadable now, distant. I had to make sure she was stable before I left.
Her heart clenched. All night?
By the time things settled, it was nearly dawn. I figured there was no point in waking you.
No point in waking her. No point in letting her know where he was, who he was with, why her mate had chosen another woman's crisis over his pregnant wife's last night in their home.
But at least he could have told her this morning. A bitter taste coated Nyma's tongue as the locket's protection seemed to pulse stronger, as if sensing her distress.
I see, she managed, her mental voice steady despite the cracking in her chest.
But she needed to see him before she left. Needed to understand who had given her this powerful talisman if not her own husband. Can you come? I'll be leaving soon.
His response was immediate, urgent: Wait for me. I'll be there once I shower.
Something in his tone made her pause—a note of almost desperate need, as if her leaving suddenly mattered more than anything else. As if he had just realized what he was about to lose.
I'll wait by the cars, she agreed, though part of her wondered why she was still making concessions for a man who couldn't spare her a single night.
With quiet grace, she smoothed the silk over her stomach and moved toward the waiting vehicles, the locket's warmth a constant reminder that someone—even if not her husband—wanted her protected.
Nyma waited.
Minutes bled into one another, the morning stretching long and silent. The crisp air carried the distant hum of voices, the shuffle of feet, the rhythmic clang of metal as warriors honed their skills beyond the estate. But none of those sounds belonged to him.
Adrain still hadn't come.
The locket seemed to pulse against her throat, its magic responding to her rising emotional temperature. Whoever had crafted this protection charm had known she would need it—but from what? And why wouldn't they identify themselves?
Behind her, Kael shifted with barely contained impatience. Her brother had never been one for delays, and she could feel his growing frustration like a storm front moving in.
"Nyma," his tone carried the authority of an alpha, firm but not unkind. "We need to leave now if we want to reach home before sundown. The roads between territories aren't safe after dark."
Raina stepped closer, her presence a gentle counterpoint to Kael's urgency. She rested a soft hand on Nyma's arm. "The weather's supposed to turn this afternoon. We really can't delay much longer."
She knew they were right. The journey back to Crescent Moon territory was treacherous enough in daylight—with her pregnancy making long travel uncomfortable and potentially dangerous. But something inside her rebelled against the idea of leaving without seeing him one last time.
Adrain, she reached through their bond again, desperation creeping into her mental voice. Everyone's waiting. Are you coming?
Almost there, came his reply, but it felt distant, distracted. Just... wait a little longer.
She took a slow breath, swallowing the familiar lump of disappointment as she looked up at her brother. "Five more minutes. Please."
Kael's expression hardened, but he nodded curtly. Raina simply sighed, her grip tightening in quiet understanding. They both knew what Adrain's absences did to her, how they chipped away at her confidence piece by piece.
Without waiting for further argument, Nyma turned and strode toward the training grounds. The locket's magic seemed to strengthen with each step, as if approving of her decision.
If Adrain wouldn't come to her—then she would go to him. One last time.
The path to the training grounds was lined with frost-kissed grass, the early morning air sharp against her skin. Nyma moved with purpose, one hand unconsciously cradling her belly while the other touched the mysterious locket that hummed with protective power.
Someone had wanted her to have this magic. Someone who knew she would need protection. The thought should have been comforting, but instead it filled her with growing unease. Protected from what? From whom?
Then—just as she neared the clearing where the pack trained—she heard something that made her stop in her tracks.
A hushed, breathy whisper. A teasing laugh that she recognized all too well.
Lira.
The sound of her husband's voice followed—low, firm, but carrying an undertone she had never heard before. Not quite warning. Not quite... invitation.
"Lira, enough."
But there was no real rebuke in his tone. No alpha command to back down. Just the patient indulgence of a man who enjoyed the attention even as he pretended to discourage it.
The locket flared with warmth against her throat, its protective magic responding to the surge of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. Whoever had given her this gift had known. Had known she would need strength for what she was about to discover.
With hands that trembled only slightly, Nyma pushed aside the last screen of winter-bare branches and looked into the clearing where her world was about to change forever.