Emery yawned, as she woke up to warmth.
A woman with long silver hair and moon-kissed eyes looked down at her. She looked gentle and ancient. She was wrapped in furs, a fire crackled nearby, and the air smelled of herbs and pine.
"I am Elara Moonveil," the woman introduced herself. "And the goddess led me to you." Elara spoke as she stood over a boiling pot, her back turned.
"Where am I?" Emery whispered.
"Far from where your heart was broken," the healer replied, turning slowly." Elara replied.
Emery winced as she sat up. "Why did you help me?"
Elara placed a hand on her chest, right where her mark had started to fade.
"Because the moon doesn't abandon its chosen. Even when alphas do." Elara responded, her words filled with wisdom.
Emery's throat tightened.
Elara looked her in the eye. "You were born for more than rejection, child. You were born with a purpose." She spoke gently as she held Emery's hands.
Emery shook her head. "He said I wasn't strong enough."
Elara's expression hardened. "You don't let a person remark define you."
Elara stepped aside, revealing ancient symbols etched on the walls—wolf sigils, moons, blood markings.
"You carry something powerful," Elara said. "Something the prophecy warned about. A storm is coming to the Crestone lands. And only the Anchor can stop it."
Emery's brows drew together. "Anchor?"
Elara nodded solemnly. "You need to eat for now and recover properly."
---
The candlelight burned low, throwing soft golden light on the dark velvet curtains. The room smelled faintly of sandalwood, mixed with secrets not meant to be told.
Sasha stood in front of the mirror, brushing her honey-blonde curls with more force than needed. Each stroke pulled harder, her frustration showing with every movement. Her reflection looked calm, but her eyes gave her away. She was looking angry and restless.
Behind her, Liora sat on a velvet chair, sipping tea calmly.
"He barely looks at me," Sasha hissed, watching her own reflection with narrowed eyes. "I've done everything. Everything mum. And still, Jaxon treats me like I'm just another pack member." She screamed in frustration
Liora, relaxing on the velvet couch with a goblet of red wine, didn't lift her gaze. "Men like Jaxon don't respond to affection, dear. They respond to strategy." She retorted.
Sasha turned sharply. "I've worn the dresses, smiled when I wanted to scream. Brought him soup when he was injured. And all for nothing."
"Because you're trying too hard," Liora said coolly, swirling her wine. "You're giving without leverage."
"Then what do you suggest?" Sasha snapped. "Wait around like some pathetic pup until he pities me?" she sighed angrily.
Liora finally looked up, her eyes sharp as flint. "No. You make yourself... necessary." she responded furiously
Sasha frowned. "How?"
Liora stood and walked slowly toward her daughter, heels clicking softly against the marble floor.
"You plant doubt in the minds of the pack. You whisper that he's lost, that his loneliness is breaking him slowly and how it's affecting the pack. You appear at his side like a shadow, quiet and loyal." Liora explained with a sly smile planted on her lips.
"And then?" Sasha scoffed
"Then," Liora said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes, "you offer comfort. You listen to his troubles. And when he starts to lean... you lean closer."
Sasha's chest heaved slightly, the thrill of plotting replacing helplessness.
"But what if he still doesn't choose me?" Sasha voiced out her thoughts.
Liora's expression turned cold. "Then we ensure there's no one left to choose but you."
Sasha blinked, throat tightening. "Mother…"
Liora reached forward and tucked a loose curl behind her daughter's ear. "You were born to be Luna. But even a crown needs blood to shine."
The silence that followed was thick.
Sasha looked back at her reflection, not as a second choice but as a future Luna.
"Then tell me what to do," Sasha whispered.
Liora's lips curled.
"We start with the council." Liora responded.
---
The training grounds were nearly empty, except for a few sparring warriors. Daren Quinn stood at the edge, arms crossed, his gaze lost in the distant trees.
Behind him, the thud of boots echoed.
"You stand there like a ghost, Daren," came a gravely voice. It was Elder Bran, one of the oldest wolves in the pack, he was known for being gruff, battle-worn, and was never known for kindness. "But ghosts don't have living daughters."
Daren didn't turn. "What do you want, Bran?"
"To ask what the rest of us are wondering." Bran stepped forward, his eyes sharp. "Where were you the day your daughter was humiliated in front of us all?"
Daren flinched, "I did what I could," Daren muttered.
"You did nothing!" Bran snapped. "You stood there and let your own blood be cast out like she was dirt beneath the Alpha's boots."
Daren turned sharply, anger flashing in his eyes. "You think I didn't want to stop it? That I didn't want to rip Jaxon apart when he spoke those words?"
"Then why didn't you?" Bran growled. "Because you're Beta-born? Because the council whispered in your ear? Or because your new wife and her precious daughter had you leashed?"
Daren's face darkened, "Watch your tongue, old man."
"Then watch your spine, boy," Bran retorted back. "Because if that girl returns, she's going to look at you and all she'll see is the man who didn't fight for her."
Daren's fists clenched. "I made mistakes."
"You made silence," Bran said coldly. "And silence is what wolves hear when they're alone, bleeding in the woods."
The words struck deeper than any blow.
Bran stepped back and spoke in a calm tone. "You may still have time to make it right but don't you dare pretend you protected her, you didn't, not from the Alpha. Not from Sasha. Not from any of us."
Daren looked away again, shame hanging off his shoulders.
"She was my daughter," he whispered in a low tone but loud enough for Bran to hear.
Bran turned to leave. "Then act like it before she becomes someone else's weapon." he said briefly while he left.
---
The woods were unnaturally quiet, no wind, no birds.
Gamma Ronan Vale moved like a shadow, his senses sharp. He'd tracked the faint scent for hours, a feminine, unfamiliar scent, laced with crushed herbs and… something colder.
He gripped the hilt of his blade tighter as the trail ended in a clearing.
A figure stood at the edge, cloaked in dark green, long raven-black hair tumbling down her back, face tilted up as if listening to something the wind couldn't hear.
She didn't turn when he stepped into view.
"You've crossed into Crestone territory," Ronan said, voice steady, though every instinct in him was on edge. "State your name." he voiced out boldly
The woman slowly turned.
For a moment, Ronan forgot to breathe. Her eyes weren't like a wolf. They were layered. Human… but gleaming with silver flickers like moonlight on water. Familiar and foreign all at once.
She let out a small smile.
"I didn't realize curiosity was a crime," she said softly.
Ronan's brow drew together " What are you?"
Howls erupted in the far distance, Ronan's head turning instinctively to the sound.
When he turned back, she was gone.