Selene
The storm battered us as we stumbled through the jagged hills toward Shadowfang, a relentless downpour soaking us to the bone. Torren carried Elara's body, wrapped tightly in blood-stained cloaks. He hadn't spoken since we fled the collapsing fortress, his eyes fixed ahead like he could outrun the pain. I gripped Draven's arm, steadying him as he limped, but he'd barely looked at me since, his focus locked on guiding the group home.
"Keep moving," Draven rasped, voice hoarse as he waved Veyra and Thorne ahead.
Veyra glanced back, her braid plastered to her neck, eyes sharp with worry. "Draven, you're bleeding again. Let me–"
"I said move," he snapped, wincing as he stepped over a rock. His tone softened. "We're almost there. Save it for the healers."
I tightened my grip on his arm, feeling the tremor in his muscles. "You're not invincible, Nightbane. Let me take some weight."
He pulled away. "I've got it, Selene."
His words stung, but I swallowed the hurt. We trudged on, the storm's roar drowning out everything but the thud of my heart. Dorian was still out there in Kaelen's grasp, and I'd failed him again. Elara's sacrifice just twisted the guilt even deeper. I'd led us into that trap thinking I could outsmart Kaelen. Now one of us was dead, and the rest of us could barely stand.
Shadowfang's gates loomed through the rain, iron spikes glinting under lightning. The sentries atop the walls shouted, their voices lost in the gale, but the gates creaked open. Pack members poured out, faces pale as they saw Elara's body. A woman, who I assumed was her mother, screamed, collapsing to her knees in the mud. Torren didn't stop, he just carried Elara toward the central courtyard, his steps mechanical.
"Get the healers!" Thorne bellowed, shoving through the crowd. "And someone fetch the elders!"
Draven staggered, and I caught him before he fell, my hands slick with rain and his blood. "You need to sit," I said, guiding him to a stone bench under an overhang.
He shook his head, eyes scanning the pack. "They need to see me standing. Not weak."
"You're not weak," I said, voice low. "You're hurt. There's a difference."
He met my gaze for the first time. "You don't get to decide what I am, Selene."
Before I could answer, a horn sounded, deep and mournful. The pack gathered in the courtyard, rain streaming down their faces as they formed a circle around Elara's body, now laid on a stone slab. Torren stood apart, fists clenched, staring at the ground. The moon vigil was beginning.
An elder stepped forward, raising his hands. "We gather under the storm to honor Elara, daughter of Leasan of the Shadowfang, who gave her life for her pack. Each of us will share a memory, guiding her soul to the Moon Goddess."
The pack murmured, heads bowed. A young warrior spoke first, voice shaking. "Elara taught me to track in the snow. Said I'd never catch a deer if I stomped like a bear."
Soft laughter rippled, then faded. Another spoke, an older woman. "She braided my daughter's hair for her first hunt. Told her she'd be the future alpha."
One by one, they shared small moments of Elara's kindness, her fire. My throat tightened. I had no memory to offer, only the image of her blood pooling on the fortress floor, her final words urging us to run. Torren stayed silent, his back to the circle, shoulders rigid. I wanted to go to him, to say something, but what could I say?
Hey, sorry I'd led us into the trap that killed your girl?
Draven stood, swaying slightly, and the pack stilled. "Elara fought beside me when we were kids," he said, voice steady despite his pain. "She'd sneak into my training sessions and throw dirt in my face to 'toughen me up.' Said an alpha needed to see through the mess." He paused, jaw working. "She saw through everything. And she saved us all. I owe her my life."
The pack howled, a raw, keening sound that echoed through the storm. I joined in, my voice cracking, the sound tearing something loose inside me. Elara was gone, and Dorian was still lost. The howl faded, and the crowd began to disperse, some casting sidelong glances my way. Whispers followed, too low to catch but heavy with doubt.
"Selene," Veyra said, appearing at my side. "You should rest. You look like you're about to collapse."
"I'm fine," I lied, wiping rain from my face. "What about Torren?"
She glanced at him, still standing alone by the slab. "He refuses to talk to anyone, or to leave her side. Give him time."
I nodded and turned away, my boots squelching in the mud as I headed toward the Goddess's temple. I needed to be alone, to let the weight of everything spill out where no one could see.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The temple was a low stone building, its roof carved with crescent moons, glowing faintly under the storm's flashes. Inside, it was quiet, the air thick with the scent of cedar and wax. A statue of the Moon Goddess stood at the far end, her marble face serene, arms outstretched. I sank to my knees before her, the cold stone biting through my soaked leathers.
"Hey, you." I whispered. "I'm not even sure what I'm doing here. I just... needed to talk to someone who didn't hate my guts."
I paused, trying to swallow past the lump in my throat, but the guilt was just too heavy so I gave up and let the tears flow.
"I failed," I continued. "Elara's dead because of me. I thought I could outsmart Kaelen and save my son, but I just… I keep losing." Tears burned my eyes, spilling over. "Draven hates me now. He won't even look at me. And the pack... they think I'm a curse, don't they? I've lost everything that's ever meant anything to me. I've lost everyone. I can't lose Dorian too. Please don't let me lose my son."
The words poured out, raw and jagged. I pressed my hands to my face, sobbing, the weight of Elara's sacrifice, Draven's hate, and Dorian's absence crushing me. What if the pack turned on me? What if I never reached him in time?
A soft rustle broke my thoughts and a handkerchief appeared in front of me, plain but clean. I froze, then looked up.
Draven stood there, rain dripping from his dark hair, his face unreadable. His wounds were bandaged now, but he leaned heavily against a pillar.
"Take it," his voice was quiet.
I did, my fingers brushing his as I grabbed the cloth. I blew my nose, the sound embarrassingly loud in the temple's silence. He sat beside me on the stone floor, keeping a careful distance.
We stayed like that in the silence, the storm's muffled roar filling the space between us.
"What are you doing here?" I asked finally, my voice hoarse.
He stared at the Goddess's statue, his hands clasped tightly. "Same as you, I guess. Feeling guilty. Elara was my responsibility. I was the one meant to protect her and not the other way around. I keep asking why the Goddess let her die. Why me, you know? Why do I get to walk away?"
I nodded, the ache in my chest mirroring his. "I ask that too. Every day since Dorian was taken."
He glanced at me, his eyes softer but still guarded. "You don't talk about him much. Your son."
"Because it hurts too much," I admitted, twisting the handkerchief. "Every time I think of him, I see Kaelen's smirk. I feel that damn mate bond twisting, reminding me he's out there, holding my boy."
Draven's jaw tightened, but he didn't speak. The silence stretched, heavy but not cruel, like we were both carrying too much to fight.
Eventually, he stood to leave, but paused at the temple door, his silhouette framed by lightning.
"You don't have to worry about the pack," he said, not turning. "They're angry, but they'll follow me. And despite… everything, I made you a promise, Selene. I said I'd get your son back. I fully intend to keep my word."
With that, he stepped into the storm, the door closing behind him.
I stayed there, staring at the Goddess, her marble face offering no answers. The pack's whispers, Torren's grief, Draven's promise... it all swirled in my head, turning into a storm just as fierce as the one outside.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
By dawn, the rain had slowed, but the courtyard was still a mess of mud and mourners. The vigil had ended, and Elara's body was prepared for the final rites. I stood at the edge, watching Torren place a single white flower on her cloaks, his face unreadable. Veyra caught my eye, nodding slightly, but the air felt charged, like the pack was holding its breath.
Then they appeared – three elders, their robes dragging through the mud, faces carved with disapproval. The lead one, Eldress Mara, stepped forward, her voice cutting through the murmurs.
"Shadowfang has suffered a grave loss," she said, her gaze locking on me. "At dawn, we convene an emergency council to assess the Luna's role in this catastrophe."
The pack stilled, eyes darting between me and the elders. My heart sank, the weight of their accusation pressing down. Draven's promise echoed in my mind, but as I looked at the wave of grieving and angry faces around me, I wondered if even he could keep it.