No one could hear her, some chose to ignore her. Others mocked her. Most simply pretended she
didn't exist.
Aria had been born into a world where wolves were measured by their voices, by their power,their roar, their command. She had none. And so, to them, she was nothing.
Her name is Aria, and she had never spoken a single word. Not because she didn't want to.
Because she couldn't.
Now, she sat beneath the old pine tree that marked the farthest edge of her father's territory. The night air carried the sharp tang of sap and damp earth, the kind of scent that clung to her skin and reminded her of childhood games she had long since abandoned. The ground is cool and uneven beneath her, a bed of roots pressing against her legs, but she doesn't shift or move. She stayed
still, as if her silence could make her invisible.
The breeze tugged at her silver-white hair, lifting strands and letting them fall across her face,teasing her like an old friend who never grew tired of the game. It slipped through the needles above her, making the branches sigh, carrying with it the distant sounds of the pack. Laughter,howls, voices rising in celebration around the fire pits at the heart of the territory. Every note carried strength and belonging. Each one cut her deeper.
She pulled her knees tighter to her chest, arms locking around them as if she could hold herself together. The thin sliver of moonlight broke through the canopy, sliding across her skin like a quiet spotlight, reminding her she was here, alone, listening to a world that didn't want to listento her.
Aria had grown used to the weight of their stares, the way wolves shifted uncomfortably when she entered a room, or worse, the way their lips twisted with pity. No voice meant no authority.
No authority meant no future. She's the alpha's daughter, but in their eyes, she's less than an omega.
She tipped her head back against the rough bark of the tree and closed her eyes. The forest pressed close around her, full of secrets and whispers she couldn't catch. Sometimes, she imagined the trees knew her better than anyone else, that if she leaned in close enough, she'd finally hear the words meant only for her. Words she could never return.
The moon climbed higher, painting the edges of her lashes in silver. Somewhere deep inside the territory, a howl rose above the others, commanding, certain, powerful. A sound that made the ground seem to tremble. Her brother, no doubt, practiced his dominance. The pack answered him with enthusiasm, their voices weaving into one chorus.
Aria just sat in silence like she always did.
Aria drew in long steady breaths, allowing it to burn her lungs before releasing it. She did not howl or try to join the chorus, the song was never for her.
Her father's regions stretched far and wide but even in all parts, her silence was like a flaw, a disease to them all. Alpha Rowan never said a word to her but his disappointment was always said through his actions and the way he always behaved with her.
His daughter, voiceless, wolfless, useless.
Soon, she would leave this place.
The thought carved its way through her chest, sharp and aching. Tomorrow, at dawn, a carriage from Mooncrest Academy will arrive. Her father hadn't asked if she wanted to go; he had only informed her. "They'll take you," he'd said flatly, as if casting her off was as easy as giving away a broken blade.
She hadn't argued. She couldn't.
A snap of a twig drew her attention. Aria lifted her head, silver hair spilling across her cheek, and found a pair of amber eyes staring at her from the shadows. Her younger brother, Kael.
"Still hiding out here?" His voice was sharp, his smirk cruel. He stepped forward, tall and broad for his age, already carrying himself like the heir he believed himself to be. "The pack's celebrating, but of course, you wouldn't know how to join in, would you?"
Aria's fingers curled against her knees. She didn't move, didn't answer, only watched him.
Kael tilted his head, mocking. "Do you ever get tired of being nothing? No voice. No wolf. No place. They call me the future Alpha. Do you know what they call you?" He leaned closer, lips twisting. "A mistake."
The words struck, though they were not new. Kael had always known where to cut deepest
Aria did not react to what he said.
Kael waited for a reaction. When none came, he clicked his tongue, frustration flashing in his gaze.
"You'll see tomorrow. Mooncrest will swallow you whole. Maybe you'll finally vanish like you should have years ago."
Alone again, Aria pressed her forehead against her knees. The ache in her chest spread outward, hot and heavy, but she didn't cry. She had long since run out of tears for Kael, for her father, for the pack that would never see her as anything more than broken.
Instead, she let her gaze lift to the moon. The pale sliver of light seemed fragile against the darkness, and yet it hung there, steady, unyielding. It reminded her of the journal she kept hidden under her mattress—pages filled not with words but sketches, fragments of dreams, bits of herself she could never say aloud.
Tomorrow, she will leave.
Tomorrow, she would step into a place where no one knew her name, her silence, her shame.
The thought sparked something—fear, yes, but also a glimmer of hope.
She pushed herself up from the roots, brushing dirt from her skirt. Her legs trembled from sitting too long, but she straightened her spine, tilting her chin as if daring the shadows themselves to defy her.
For one heartbeat, she imagined she heard something in the trees. Not her brother, not her pack, not even the wind. A whisper, low and strange, threading through the silence like it belonged to her.
Aria…
The sound—or the thought—made her chest tighten. She glanced around, silver hair gleaming in the moonlight, but the forest was still. Only the pines stood tall, their needles shifting in the breeze.
Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was everything.
Either way, she turned her back on the heart of the territory and began the walk toward home. Tomorrow, the world would change, whether she was ready or not.