The room was quiet again, though the scent of cake and spice still lingered faintly in the air.
Andrea stood in front of a tall mirror, wrapped in nothing but a soft robe, her skin still damp from the bath Amalia had drawn for her. The warm water, the scented oils—it had all been... too much. Luxurious. Surreal.
She kept expecting someone to knock on the door and drag her back to the orphanage. To Mother Theresa. To cold floors and whispered lies.
But instead, Amalia returned with a dress, she didn't like any of the dresses her brothers had prepared.
"Alright," Amalia said, pushing into the room like she owned it, arms full of fabric. "You don't have to wear it, but I saw this and... I just knew."
Andrea's eyes widened. The dress was a deep midnight blue, almost black, with silver threads woven through the fabric like falling stars. The skirt flowed like water when Amalia let it hang from her arms. Delicate. Beautiful. A dream.
"I can't wear that," Andrea said, stepping back. "I'll ruin it."
"No," Amalia said with a firm shake of her head. "You'll make it better."
Andrea opened her mouth to argue, but stopped when she saw Amalia's expression—soft, but unmovable.
So she let her help.
The dress slid over her like it belonged there. The fabric hugged her gently at the waist before flowing free at the hips. It wasn't tight. It wasn't revealing. But it made her feel... seen.
Amalia pulled her damp hair back into a half-twist, letting soft strands fall around her face. No makeup. No gloss. Just Andrea—as she was.
"You look..." Amalia started, then shook her head. "Honestly? You look like something out of a prophecy."
Andrea stared at her reflection.
She didn't recognize herself. Not the girl in the mirror. Not the one with the wild blue eyes, soft lips, and a star-drenched gown.
"I don't understand what's happening," she whispered. Amalia's voice was gentle. "You don't have to. Not yet. Just... be in it. For tonight."
A knock came at the door—low and unmistakably hesitant. Joseph's voice followed, muffled. "Ready?"
Andrea looked at Amalia, panic flickering in her chest again."What if I mess everything up?"
"You can't," Amalia said with a wink. "They're already lost."
Andrea took one breath. Then another.
And she opened the door.
All three brothers stood waiting—Lionel in crisp black, Matthew in gray, Joseph in deep navy—all tall, all quiet.
And then they saw her.
Not just looked. Saw.
The silence was weighty, like the moment just before thunder breaks.
Lionel's throat worked once, but no words came. Joseph stepped forward, half-smiling. "Remind me to thank the Moon Goddess."
Matthew gave a low, appreciative whistle. "You're not just going to turn heads. You might start a war."
Andrea blushed so hard it hurt. "Stop making fun of me." But for the first time—maybe in her life—she didn't mean it.
They escorted her through the long hallway of the palace, her fingers brushing the cool stone as they walked. The torches flickered low, casting golden light along the floor.
At the end of the corridor, two wide doors waited.
Whatever was on the other side, Andrea didn't know.
But tonight… For the first time… She wanted to find out.
The grand hall was glowing when Andrea stepped inside.
Cascading white drapes floated from the ceiling like clouds suspended in air. Candles lit every corner, casting a golden hue over silver chandeliers and stone-carved pillars. Long tables had been set with crystal glasses and food she couldn't name—elegant, extravagant, too much.
Too much for a girl who'd never had a birthday before.
But this wasn't just a party.
It was a ceremony.
The room quieted as she entered, flanked by the three Alphas who walked just a step behind her, not leading her, not pushing her forward.
Supporting her.
At the far end of the room, the Queen Mother stood like a statue of cold marble. Ashley stood just beside her, arms crossed, jaw tight, pretending not to look. The whispers had already started among the guests.
Is that her?
The human girl?
That's who they chose?
But the moment Andrea reached the center of the marble floor, everything fell still.
A soft chime rang out. Amalia stepped forward, dressed in priestess silver, holding a small, glowing bowl in her hands.
"The Moon sees all," she said clearly. "And tonight, she shines on what was once hidden."
Andrea's heart pounded. She hadn't agreed to this. She didn't even know what this was.
But Joseph stepped forward and gently took her hand. "Just follow our lead."
Matthew and Lionel joined on either side of her, each laying a hand lightly over her shoulders. Not claiming her—anchoring her.
Then Amalia's voice lifted again.
"As the Moon watches, and the stars bear witness… we honor the soul bond that exists beyond blood, beyond time."
The room began to hum.
Not audibly—but in Andrea's chest. A vibration. A pressure. A pull.
Suddenly, the light dimmed.
And the Moon rose full through the stained-glass dome above, spilling silver light down on Andrea's skin.
The moment it touched her—
Something broke free.
The wind whipped through the hall. Candles flared, flickered, and then steadied—brighter than before.
Gasps echoed around the room.
Because Andrea was glowing.
Her skin shimmered like moonstone. Her eyes lit up with a pale fire, brighter than any human's. Her hair floated slightly, caught in a breeze no one else could feel.
For a breathless moment, the hall fell to stunned silence.
Ashley took a step back.
The Queen Mother's lips parted—just slightly.
And the gathered pack, once whispering about a weak human girl... stared in open awe.
Andrea blinked, trying to understand what she was feeling. It wasn't pain. It wasn't fear. It was like... something inside her was finally breathing. Finally seen.
Lionial's voice was low and reverent beside her. "You're not human."
Joseph grinned. "Told you she'd shut them up."
Matthew touched her back lightly. "You're something more. And you always have been."
The light slowly faded, and Andrea stood, breathless and confused.