Azura's POV
The door slammed behind them, sharp and final. Rhydor was gone, and Silas and Axel followed without a word.
No one moved.
The room still buzzed with everything that had just happened... the shouting, the punch, the blood. I couldn't look at Arthur. I couldn't look at anyone. I just stood there, hands cold, heart racing.
Then Genevieve stepped forward. Her voice was quiet, but it cut through the tension like a breeze after a storm.
"Come, dear. Let's get you settled."
Her eyes were warm. No judgment. Just kindness. And gods, I hadn't realized how much I needed that.
"Come with me," she'd said gently. "I'll escort you to collect your things."
I'd blinked at her, too stunned to speak.
"You'll need to pack whatever you want to bring to the pack house," she continued. "I'll take you there myself."
Surprising. Especially from someone like her.
Now, sitting beside her in the horse-drawn carriage, I still couldn't quite believe it was happening.
The carriage rocked gently as it moved through the forest. The air smelled like pine and earth. Genevieve sat across from me, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her expression calm.
I felt anything but calm.
My stomach twisted with nerves. Embarrassment crept up my neck. She was going to see where I lived. How I'd been living. The tiny, run-down space I called home.
What would she think of me then?
The trees began to thin, and the pack territory shifted. The grand homes and well-kept paths gave way to something darker. Poorer. The outskirts.
Villagers stopped what they were doing to stare as the carriage passed. Some bowed their heads to Genevieve, their faces filled with surprise. Others just watched, whispering to each other.
I sank lower in my seat.
The carriage finally stopped in front of a small structure that barely qualified as a home. It was more of a shed, really. Wooden walls patched with old boards. A sagging roof. A single window with no glass, just a piece of cloth hanging over it.
This was where I lived.
Genevieve stepped out first, and I followed, my legs shaking slightly.
She looked at the structure, then at me. Her expression didn't change, but I saw something flicker in her eyes. Pity? Sadness? I couldn't tell.
I pushed open the door.
The inside was just as humble as the outside. One small room. A thin mattress on the floor with a patched blanket. A broom leaning against the wall. An old wooden chest in the corner. Buckets and cleaning rags were stacked neatly beside it. A few worn-out clothes were folded on top of the chest.
That was it. That was everything.
Genevieve stepped inside, her gaze sweeping over the space. She didn't say anything at first. Just looked. At the broom. The rags. The clothes with patches sewn into them.
Then her eyes met mine.
"You're a cleaner?" she asked gently.
I nodded, my throat tight. "Yes, Luna."
She didn't look disgusted. Didn't look down on me. She just nodded slowly, like she was understanding something she hadn't before.
I moved quickly to the chest, opening it with trembling hands. I started pulling out my clothes, folding them even though they were already folded.
"I'll just pack everything," I said quickly. "It won't take long. I don't have much…"
Genevieve's hand rested gently on my arm, stopping me.
"You won't need to bring those," she said softly.
I looked up at her, confused.
"Just pack what's valuable or personal to you," she continued. "Things that matter. You won't need the rest."
I stared at her. "Really?"
She smiled, warm and genuine. "Really."
For a moment, I didn't know what to say. I just stood there, holding a faded dress in my hands, feeling something crack open inside my chest.
"You're not like your son at all," I said quietly before I could stop myself.
Genevieve chuckled softly. "No, I'm not. And I like your spirit."
She stepped closer, her voice dropping. "Anyone who can stand their ground with Rhydor and still smile deserves more than faded linens."
Tears pricked the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them away quickly.
I turned back to the chest and reached for the only two things that truly mattered.
The first was a small leather-bound journal, its edges worn but still intact. It had been given to me at the orphanage... one of the last belongings of my parents. I'd never read it. Never even opened it.
There was simply never enough time. I was always working, always cleaning, always chasing scraps just to keep the children fed.
The second was a tiny wooden box, smooth and aged. Inside was a pendant... at least, that's what I'd been told. I didn't even know how it looked. I'd never worn it, never even opened the box to see it with my own eyes.
But I kept it, just like the journal. Because they were all I had left of where I came from, and who I might've been.
I held them both carefully, as if they might break.
"That's all?" Genevieve asked gently.
I nodded. "That's all."
She didn't say anything and just placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently.
We stepped outside, and I saw the children.
They'd been playing near the well, but the moment they saw me, they ran over. Amanda was at the front, her blonde hair tangled and her bare feet covered in dirt.
"Azura!" she cried, throwing her arms around my waist. "Where have you been? Where are you going?"
The other children crowded around me, their faces filled with worry.
I crouched down so I was eye level with Amanda. Her blue eyes were wide, already filled with tears.
"I have to go somewhere for a little while," I said softly, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.
"Are you leaving us?" she whispered.
The words hit me harder than I expected. My throat tightened, and I had to force myself to smile.
"No, sweetheart. I'm not leaving forever."
"Promise?" Her voice cracked.
I cupped her face in my hands. "I promise. And when I come back, I'm taking you with me."
Her eyes went wide. "Really?"
"Really."
Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she threw her arms around my neck, holding me so tight I could barely breathe.
I hugged her back, blinking hard against the tears burning in my own eyes.
"Be good, okay?" I whispered into her hair. "Don't get into trouble."
She nodded against my shoulder, sniffling.
I pulled back and kissed her forehead gently. Then I stood, my legs shaky, my chest aching.
Those kids were more like a family to me.
The other children waved, their faces sad but trying to be brave.
Amanda stood there, tears streaming down her face, waving with both hands.
I waved back, forcing myself to smile even though my heart was breaking.
Then I climbed into the carriage beside Genevieve.
The door closed.
The carriage started moving.
I looked back through the small window and saw Amanda still standing there, still waving.
I waved back until I couldn't see her anymore.
Then I turned forward, my hands clutching the journal and the tiny box in my lap.
I was leaving them behind. The only people who had ever needed me. The only place I'd ever belonged.
And I was heading toward a place where I was wanted by no one.
Genevieve didn't say anything. She just sat beside me, her presence warm and steady.
I stared out the window, watching the outskirts fade into the distance, and tried not to cry.