The journey back to Silver Moon territory took three days, and those days changed everything.
Wolves who'd spent years hiding their gifts now walked openly. The storm-shifter called rain when we needed water, lightning when we needed warmth. Echo's twelve bodies scouted in all directions, making ambush impossible. Traditional wolves watched in awe as the "defective" became essential.
But it was the small moments that marked real change.
I watched Marcus help a young shadow-merged wolf through her first transformation panic. His own shadows gave him insight into her fear, and his patience was infinite. The Alpha who'd once rejected difference now shepherded it.
"You're staring," Luna noted from her perch on my shoulders.
"Just thinking."
"About Daddy?" She played with my hair, braiding shadows into the silver strands—a new trick she'd discovered. "He stares at you too when you're not looking."
"Luna—"
"His shadow-parts love you. They never stopped. It was just the wolf-parts that got confused." She said it like discussing weather. "Maybe now that he's whole, the love can be whole too?"
"It's not that simple, baby."
"Why not?"
Because broken trust couldn't be merged like shadows and wolves. Because some wounds scarred too deep for simple reunion. Because—
"Mama, you're doing the thing where you think so loud I can taste it."
Before I could respond, commotion erupted ahead. We'd reached Silver Moon borders, and the remaining pack members who'd stayed behind were... celebrating?
Banners hung between trees. Tables groaned with food. And at the center stood Morgana, tears streaming down her ancient face.
"Welcome home," she called. "All of you. Welcome home."
The celebration lasted through the night, but I noticed the careful divisions. Shadow-merged wolves still clustered together. Traditional wolves kept polite distance. And everyone watched Luna like she might explode into divine revelation at any moment.
"Give them time," the Winter Alpha advised. She'd decided to stay, fascinated by our "experiment in controlled chaos," as she called it. "Change this profound doesn't settle overnight."
She was proven right the next morning when the first dispute erupted.
"The shadow-touched can't hold traditional pack positions!" Raymond argued in the council meeting. "How can an Alpha command when he's busy managing internal conversations with his own darkness?"
"The same way he always did," Marcus replied calmly. "By choosing wisdom over fear."
"Easy words from someone whose merger succeeded! What about those still struggling? What about—"
"What about me?" A new voice interrupted. Jennifer, a wolf who'd tried merger and failed, stepped forward. Half her face bore shadow-marks where the attempt had scarred her. "Am I less worthy because my shadow and I haven't found balance yet?"
The question hung heavy. Because if we said yes, we were no better than before. But if we said no, how did we handle the very real challenges of partially merged wolves?
"We adapt," I said finally. "Create new positions. Shadow-walkers to help with mergers. Emotion-guides for those struggling with expanded feelings. We build the pack around our people, not force our people into old structures."
"Revolutionary talk," someone muttered.
"Yes," I agreed. "It is."
The meeting devolved into heated debate, but I noticed something crucial—we were arguing about how to include everyone, not whether to include them. Progress, messy and slow.
That night, Marcus found me by the lake where we'd once been mated. Luna was asleep, finally exhausted after mediating between arguing wolves all day.
"She shouldn't have to do that," he said quietly. "Three years old and already carrying our burdens."
"She's stronger than both of us."
"Because she had to be." Pain flickered across his features. "Because I failed you both so completely that strength was her only option."
We stood in silence, watching moonlight dance on water. Through my gift, I felt his emotional storm—love, regret, hope, despair, all amplified by his shadow-merger.
"I know we can't go back," he said finally. "The bond is severed. The trust is broken. But..." He turned to me, vulnerability naked in his eyes. "But I need you to know that every shadow I reclaimed screams your name. Every part of me I'd suppressed loved you. Loves you. Will always—"
"Stop." The word came out harsher than intended. "You can't shadow-merge your way out of what happened. You rejected me. Our daughter. That's not something your darkness did—that was all you."
"I know." He didn't defend, didn't excuse. "I'm not asking for forgiveness. I'm just... confessing. To the only person who deserves to hear it."
"And then what? We pretend to be mates again? Give Luna the illusion of a unified family?"
"No." He stepped closer, and I fought the urge to retreat. "We build something new. Not mates—that bridge is ash. But partners. Co-parents. Maybe..." He struggled for words. "Maybe friends who share the deepest wound and greatest gift imaginable."
I looked at him—really looked. The shadows had changed him, made him more of who he'd always been underneath the Alpha facade. But they'd also shown him the full weight of his choices.
"I'll think about it," I said finally. "For Luna."
"For Luna," he agreed.
As I walked away, I heard him whisper to the night: "And for the Luna who felt too much, who loved too deeply, who deserved so much more than a coward's rejection."
The words followed me home, settling into spaces I'd thought permanently frozen.
Change, it seemed, came for everyone—whether we were ready or not.