The night air was sharp and cold as iron when they dragged Selene from the hall. Chains rattled at her wrists and ankles, the wolfsbane biting into her skin and leeching her strength. Her wolf snarled within her, restless and wounded, but there was nothing she could do—nothing except walk.
Every step echoed through the pack grounds, and every wolf seemed to be watching. Warriors stood at the edges of the courtyard, their eyes burning with contempt. Pack members lined the paths like vultures, their whispers hissing in her ears.
"Traitor."
"Outcast."
"She deserved it."
Selene kept her head high, though her chest felt hollow. She would not give them the satisfaction of seeing her broken. If they wanted shame, she would deny it to them. If they wanted her to crumble, she would show them steel.
At the center of the courtyard, a great pyre burned. Its flames licked the night sky, casting long shadows across the gathered wolves. Above it all, the moon glowed full and bright, silver light spilling over the scene like the gaze of a silent witness.
Magnus Blackthorn stood at the pyre's edge, his expression grim, impassive. Lucian was at his side, his face carved from stone, refusing to meet Selene's eyes. Seraphina stood slightly behind them, her crimson gown glowing in the firelight, her lips curved in a cruel smile.
Selene was shoved forward, forced to her knees before the Alpha.
Magnus's voice rang out, deep and commanding. "Selene Blackthorn, by your actions and by your betrayal, you are stripped of your place in this pack. From this night onward, you are no daughter of mine, no wolf of Blackthorn, no kin to those you once called family."
The words pierced deeper than claws. No daughter of mine.
Selene's chest ached, but she swallowed her pain. She would not beg.
Magnus continued, "You are branded outcast. Should you return, the penalty will be death. May the Moon witness this judgment."
Two warriors stepped forward. One held a brand—the Blackthorn crest, glowing red-hot in the fire. Selene's wolf howled in fury, but her body trembled. She knew what was coming.
The warrior pressed the brand to the skin of her collarbone.
Agony exploded through her. The scent of burning flesh filled the air, her scream tearing from her throat before she could choke it back. The crowd erupted in satisfaction, their jeers and cheers echoing as though her pain were sport.
When it was done, Selene collapsed, gasping, sweat dripping from her brow. The mark seared into her skin would never fade. A permanent reminder that she was cast out.
Seraphina's voice rang sweet and mocking. "The traitor bears her shame for all to see."
The crowd laughed, but Selene lifted her head. Her eyes glowed faintly silver, defiance burning through the pain. "This mark is not my shame," she said, her voice raw but steady. "It is yours. For branding your own blood with lies."
The crowd stilled. A ripple of unease passed through them, but Seraphina only laughed harder.
Magnus gave a curt nod. "Take her to the borders. Cast her out. Let the wilds decide her fate."
The guards yanked Selene to her feet, dragging her through the pack lands one final time. She saw faces she had known since childhood—wolves she had played with, trained with, broken bread with. None looked at her with pity. Only scorn.
Lucian walked behind them, his silence louder than any jeer. Selene turned once, her eyes locking on him. She searched his face for even a flicker of regret, of mercy. But his gaze was fixed on the ground, his jaw tight.
Coward.
They reached the border at midnight. The trees loomed tall and dark, the forest beyond alive with the howls of rogues and beasts. The guards shoved her forward, unfastening the chains with disgust as though touching her might taint them.
"You step past this line," one growled, "you are no wolf of Blackthorn. You return, you die."
Selene stumbled but caught herself. Her wrists throbbed, raw and bloodied from the shackles. She stood at the invisible line, the pack lands behind her, the wilderness before her.
For a heartbeat, she wavered. This had been her home. The land of her childhood, her memories, her blood. To cross that line meant losing it forever.
But then she heard Seraphina's laughter echoing faintly in the distance. She remembered Magnus's cold eyes, Lucian's betrayal.
And she stepped forward.
The guards did not follow. They turned back, their duty done, leaving her alone in the shadows of the forest.
Selene looked up at the moon, glowing bright above the trees. Her body ached, her heart shattered, but her wolf stirred inside her, restless and fierce.
"This is not the end," she whispered to the night. Her voice trembled, but her words were strong. "You can cast me out. You can mark me. You can strip me of everything. But I will rise. And when I do, I will take back everything you stole."
The wind rustled through the trees as though the Goddess herself answered.
Selene wrapped her arms around herself and took her first step deeper into exile.
The night swallowed her whole.
But though she walked alone, the fire inside her burned brighter than ever.