The moment Luna's hand made contact, the world exploded into sensation.
I didn't just feel it—everyone did. Through Luna's gift, amplified beyond comprehension, we experienced what happened when Shadow and Wolf touched through a True Empath.
Memory flooded the clearing. Ancient memory, from before packs, before Alphas, before the split.
We were whole once. Wolves who danced with their shadows, who embraced every emotion—dark and light. Fear gave us wisdom. Rage gave us strength. Sorrow gave us depth. Joy gave us purpose. We felt everything, and in feeling, we were complete.
Then came the First Law: Control.
I watched through ancestral eyes as the first Alphas decided some emotions were too dangerous. Too chaotic. They performed the Severing—a ritual that tore shadow from wolf, emotion from form. The shadows were banished to the spaces between, and wolves were left with only the "acceptable" feelings.
But nature abhors a vacuum. The shadows, starved of form, became hungry. The wolves, denied their depths, became brittle. And rarely—so rarely—children were born who could still feel both sides. Empaths. Bridges to what was lost.
Most went mad from it. But a few...
The vision shattered as Luna pulled her hand back. But she didn't release Shadow-Garrett. Instead, she held something in her small fist—a thread of darkness pulled from his core.
"This isn't you," she told Garrett firmly, like a child explaining something obvious. "This is just borrowed hunger. You're still in there, underneath."
She yanked.
The shadow came free like a parasite extracted, writhing in her grip. But instead of casting it away, Luna did something impossible. She spoke to it.
"You're not evil. You're just lonely. You've been hungry so long you forgot what food tastes like." She opened her other hand, revealing a thread of pure light—emotion given form. "Here. Remember."
The shadow touched the light, and for one heartbeat, they merged. Not consuming each other, but dancing. Complete.
Then Luna released both, and they dissipated like morning mist. Garrett collapsed, fully human, the black veins fading. Around the clearing, other shadow-marked wolves convulsed as their parasites abandoned hosts that no longer served their purpose.
Because Luna had just shown them something better than possession. She'd shown them the possibility of reunion.
"Impossible," Selene breathed. "The Severing can't be undone. The First Alphas made sure—"
"The First Alphas were scared," Luna interrupted, swaying with exhaustion. "They thought cutting away shadows would make wolves stronger. But it just made everyone broken. The shadows hunger because they're incomplete. Wolves fear because they're incomplete. And empaths..." She looked at me with too-wise eyes. "Empaths hurt because we feel both sides trying to reconnect."
The implications crashed over me. Every empath who'd suffered, every wolf who'd suppressed their darker emotions, every shadow that fed on pain—all symptoms of an ancient wound.
"You're saying we've been fighting our own nature for centuries?" Marcus asked, voice hollow.
Luna nodded. "The Order of Shadows aren't invaders. They're the exiled half of what we are. They got twisted by hunger, yes. But underneath..." She yawned, power fading as exhaustion took hold. "Underneath, they just want to come home."
"This changes everything," Elder Thorne murmured. "If the child is right, then the Order isn't our enemy. They're—"
A sound like tearing silk cut him off. The air split open, and through the rift stepped figures that made my blood freeze.
Not shadow wolves. The Order's true form—beings of living darkness wearing shapes like cloaks. Ancient. Powerful. And at their head, something that might once have been wolf but was now pure hunger given form.
"The child understands," it spoke with voices like whispered screams. "But understanding and accepting are different things. You fear us still. You fear what reunion means."
"Because you attack us!" Marcus snarled. "You possess our wolves!"
"We seek form because we have none. You deny emotion because you fear depth." The Ancient Shadow moved closer, and I felt the pack's terror spike. "The child offers pretty dreams of dancing light and dark. But can wolves who've lived centuries in denial truly accept their shadows back?"
It gestured to the pack, and I felt the truth in its words. They were terrified. Even seeing the possibility Luna had shown, they couldn't imagine embracing what they'd been taught to fear.
"Then we'll teach them," I said, stepping forward. "Not through force. Not through possession. But the way Luna showed—one connection at a time."
The Ancient Shadow laughed. "And if they refuse? If they choose the comfort of incompleteness over the pain of becoming whole?"
I looked at my daughter, at Marcus, at the pack I'd been rejected from and returned to save.
"Then we protect them anyway. Because that's what family does—even the broken kind."
The Ancient considered this. Then, impossibly, it smiled. "Perhaps there is hope yet. Very well. We withdraw—for now. But the child has shown what's possible. That knowledge will spread. Wolves will have to choose: remain severed and safe, or risk madness for the chance at wholeness."
The rift began to close, but the Ancient's final words echoed: "And when they choose, we'll be waiting. In shadow or in light. Apart or together. The bridge has been built. Now let's see who's brave enough to cross."
They vanished, leaving us in a clearing full of wolves who'd just had their entire worldview shattered.
Luna tugged my hand. "Mama? Did I do good?"
I scooped her up, feeling her exhaustion like my own. "You did perfect, baby."
But looking at the pack's faces—confused, terrified, some hopeful, others resistant—I knew the real work was just beginning.
We'd survived the night. We'd exposed the truth. We'd even found a possibility of peace.
Now we had to figure out how to live with it.