The cold wind blew through the cracked window of the servants' quarters, making Ariana shiver under the thin blanket. The floor beneath her was hard and the straw mattress scratched her skin, but she was used to it. This was her home. If you could even call it that.
Blackthorn Pack had many members, but none were treated worse than Ariana. People whispered about her behind her back. They called her names like "the cursed girl" or "the death child." No one wanted to sit near her or even look her in the eyes for too long. Even the pups, who didn't understand much about the world, were told by their parents to stay away from her.
She had no family. No friends. Just a tiny space in the servants' quarters and a long list of chores that never ended.
Ariana wiped her hands on her apron after scrubbing the kitchen floor for the third time that day. Her knees were sore and red, her fingers raw from cleaning without gloves. She had worked since dawn and the sky was already turning orange. But she wasn't allowed to rest yet.
"Faster, girl," snarled Beta Ingrid, the woman who managed the pack house. "You're slower than a sick goat. Do I have to come down there and do it myself?"
Ariana bit her tongue and nodded. "No ma'am. I'll finish soon."
"You better. The elders are meeting tonight. You'll be serving tea. And if I hear one cup so much as rattle wrong, I'll make you clean the latrines with your bare hands."
Ariana nodded again and lowered her head. She knew better than to argue. Her heart pounded in her chest as she picked up her scrub brush and continued. Her back ached, but she didn't stop.
People said Ariana was cursed because her mother had died giving birth to her. And not just died. They said it was painful and strange. Her mother had screamed so loudly that her voice echoed through the whole forest. Some claimed they saw shadows dancing over the trees that night. Some said they smelled burning even though there was no fire. Her father had died on patrol just weeks before she was born, ripped apart by rogues. So Ariana entered the world alone. A baby with no one to love her.
The pack took her in, but they never accepted her.
"You bring bad luck," they would say.
"Stay away from my pup."
"She should have died instead of her mother."
Even the elders, the ones who were supposed to be wise and kind, looked at her with tight faces and cold eyes. The only person who had ever been kind to Ariana was the old healer, Luna Maerra, but she had passed away two winters ago. Since then, Ariana was on her own.
After scrubbing the kitchen, Ariana rushed to the elders' hall to set up the tea. Her hands shook as she carried the silver tray. The teacups rattled slightly, and she winced, praying no one would notice.
The elders were already seated when she entered. They wore long dark robes and had serious expressions. Their eyes followed her like hawks as she set the tray on the table and poured the tea.
One of them, Elder Bran, cleared his throat. "It's almost time."
"Yes," Elder Nalia said with a smile. "The Claiming Ceremony must be announced. Every unmated she-wolf of age must attend. Including the cursed one."
Ariana froze. Her heart dropped to her stomach. She had turned eighteen last full moon, but no one had mentioned the ceremony to her. She thought they would forget. Or maybe let her skip it. She was cursed after all. No one would want her.
"You will announce it tonight?" Bran asked.
Nalia nodded. "Yes. The ceremony will be held tomorrow night. Every she-wolf will present herself. They will be judged and, if lucky, chosen."
Ariana's throat felt tight. She backed away from the table quietly, hoping to leave before they remembered she was still in the room. But Elder Nalia's eyes locked on her.
"You will come too, Ariana."
She wanted to protest. To scream. To say it was pointless. But all she managed was a tiny, "Yes ma'am."
Later that night, after finishing her chores, Ariana climbed into her small bed and stared at the ceiling. Her heart still pounded. Her fingers trembled as she tried to brush her tangled brown hair. The brush caught in a knot and made her wince.
She had no dress. No shoes. Nothing special to wear. The other girls would come in silk and velvet. She would look like a beggar standing beside them dressed in rags.
"I'll be laughed at," she whispered into the darkness.
Her voice sounded so small. So weak.
She curled into a ball, hugging herself tightly. A tear slipped down her cheek, but she didn't bother wiping it away. She was used to crying alone.
That night, her sleep was restless.
She dreamed of a dark forest. The trees were taller than mountains, their leaves glowing faintly with silver light. Fog swirled around her bare feet as she stepped forward, unsure of where she was or how she got there.
Suddenly, a wolf appeared.
It stood in the shadows, huge and powerful, with fur like snow and eyes like liquid silver. It looked straight at her, and somehow, she didn't feel afraid.
The wolf stepped closer, and in a voice that echoed through her soul, it spoke.
"Moonfire," it said.
She blinked. "What?"
"Moonfire," the wolf repeated. "It is your true name. Do not forget."
"I don't understand," Ariana whispered.
The wolf tilted its head. "You will."
Then everything went white.
Ariana shot up in bed, gasping for air. Her heart was racing, her skin covered in cold sweat. The dream had felt so real. The forest. The fog. The voice.
And that name.
Moonfire.
She whispered it to herself, testing how it sounded in her mouth.
"Moonfire."
The word stirred something deep inside her. A warmth in her chest. A flicker of something strong and ancient. Something that didn't belong to the weak cursed girl everyone believed she was.
But the moment passed, and the cold returned.
The morning sun peeked through the window. Ariana stood slowly and stretched her sore limbs. Her stomach growled, but she knew better than to ask for food before her chores.
Ingrid stormed in minutes later with a bundle of cloth in her hands.
"Here," she said, throwing the bundle on the floor. "Your outfit for the ceremony."
Ariana picked it up and stared at it. The cloth was thin, gray, and full of holes. It was barely better than rags. It would expose her legs and arms and make her look like a pauper in front of the entire pack.
Tears welled in her eyes again, but she said nothing. She just nodded and held the rags to her chest.
Ingrid snorted. "Don't embarrass us more than you already have."
Then she turned and left.
Ariana sat on the edge of her bed and hugged the clothes tightly. Her heart ached with shame and fear. Tomorrow she would stand in front of everyone. The whole pack. Every ranked male. Every she-wolf. All of them watching.
Waiting to laugh.
Waiting to reject her.
And yet a small voice in her mind whispered something different.
Moonfire.
She didn't know what it meant. But it was the only thing that gave her hope.