The moon hung low and silver above the Duskclaw Pack as drums echoed through the clearing. Tonight was the Moonlight Marking—a sacred ceremony where newly-turned wolves would gather beneath Selene's light and receive her blessing.
Lyra Duskbane stood at the edge of the crowd, her hands clenched behind her long dress. Her chest burned with nervous energy, and not just because she was turning eighteen. Her wolf, Nyra, had been pacing in her mind all day.
> He's close, Nyra whispered. I feel him. Our mate is here tonight.
Lyra's heart skipped. She had dreamed of this moment for years—the fated bond, the pull, the connection that could never be broken. Despite being an omega, the lowest rank in the pack, hope had always flickered in her.
And then she felt it.
Like a wildfire surging through her veins, a magnetic force snapped her head toward the stage. There, standing tall in a tailored black suit, was Alpha Kael Nightmoor—the youngest Alpha in the region. Towering, cold, with midnight-black hair and eyes like storms. Their eyes locked, and her wolf howled.
Mate.
His posture stiffened.
For a second, just one painful, silent second, something flashed in his eyes. Recognition. Shock. Fear.
Then, it was gone.
He turned away.
She blinked, stunned. Her wolf whimpered.
> He felt it too, Nyra insisted. He knows.
The drumming stopped.
The Elder stepped forward. "Tonight, we bless those who come of age beneath Selene's gaze," his voice rang. "Alpha Kael, do you have words?"
Lyra's breath caught. Kael stepped up slowly, gaze sweeping across the crowd. Then, without warning, he turned to her.
His voice rang out, cold and deliberate.
> "I, Alpha Kael Nightmoor of the Duskclaw Pack, reject you, Lyra Duskbane, as my mate."
Silence fell like a guillotine.
Lyra's world tilted.
Rejection.
The word echoed in her skull like a curse. Her wolf screamed—No!—but her body stayed still. The pain hit fast, sharp and deep, like being torn from the inside.
Gasps rippled through the pack. Someone laughed—nervously. A few warriors shifted uneasily.
"I…" Lyra's lips trembled.
Kael's eyes stayed blank. Hard. Distant.
"I accept your rejection," she whispered, voice low but steady.
A ripple of heat surged through her spine. She clenched her teeth as the mate bond snapped, like a whip cracking through her soul.
Then came the cold.
But something else moved beneath it. A second force—older. Deeper. Awakening.
The crescent-shaped birthmark on her shoulder burned. Her vision blurred. The moon pulsed above her, glowing unnaturally bright.
She stumbled, gripping her arm, but no one came forward. No one helped her. She was alone.
"Leave the stage," a Beta barked.
She lifted her head.
"I'm not on your stage," she said softly. "I was never yours to begin with."
She turned and walked away. Each step was heavier than the last—but something had changed. With every footfall, her wolf grew calmer. Stronger.
Behind her, Kael stared, expression unreadable.
He had no idea.
He had just rejected the Moon's heir.