The Moon Ceremony came but once a year, and on that night even the most jaded wolf in Moonshadow walked a little softer.
By dusk, the entire compound seemed to hold its breath.
Tasks that could be finished early were hurried through. Training wrapped before the sun had fully dipped. Weapons were cleaned and stowed; armor was set aside in favor of simpler clothes that bared throats and arms to the night air.
Luna scrubbed the last of the cauldrons with fingers already rubbed sore, the harsh soap stinging her cracked skin. Behind her, Cook Elia barked orders at a pair of wide-eyed young omegas, shoving trays of bread into their arms.
"Hall first," Elia growled. "Then back here for the stew. And don't you dare pick at it on the way, or I'll—"
Her threat trailed off as she caught Luna's eye.
"Well?" she snapped. "What are you lingering for? Go. You're expected at the clearing same as the rest of us."
Luna blinked.
"Expected?" she echoed. The Moon Ceremonies were for the pack, yes—but usually she attended only as an extra set of hands, hanging back at the treeline.
Elia huffed.
"Every wolf with breath in their chest is expected," she said gruffly. "Even runts. Even strays. Go wash your face, at least. You look like you wrestled a chimney."
Luna swiped a soapy wrist across her cheek, only managing to smear the grime.
Elia rolled her eyes and grabbed a clean cloth, tugging Luna closer with surprising gentleness for someone whose hands could lift cauldrons like toys. She spat on the cloth and scrubbed at Luna's face in quick, efficient strokes.
"There," she said, stepping back. "Still scrawny, but at least you're not *filthy.*"
"Thank you," Luna murmured.
Elia grunted something that might have been "don't mention it" and turned back to her pots.
Outside, the sky was an indigo bowl deepening by the moment, the first stars pricking through the fading light. The moon hung just above the treetops in the east—nearly full, round and luminous, its silver washing the world in a soft, eerie glow.
The sight of it tugged at something inside Luna, that now-familiar ember in her chest warming in quiet response.
She slipped through the courtyard with the others, drawn toward the forest like an incoming tide.
The wolves of Moonshadow moved in loose, murmuring groups—warriors side by side with their mates, pups chattering until a snapped "hush" reminded them of the sacredness of the night. Elders shuffled along with careful steps, wrapped in thick cloaks despite the relative mildness of the summer air.
At the head of the loose procession, a small group walked with more measured, deliberate strides.
Orion. Selene. Beta Kael. Gamma Rowan. The seer, her silver hair catching the moonlight in wisps.
Luna kept to the rear, as she always did, slipping between taller bodies until she found herself near the very edge of the pack. If anyone noticed her, they didn't show it.
The forest swallowed them quickly.
Tonight, the trees felt... different.
Luna had walked this path a hundred times, both with the pack and alone. She knew every dip of the earth, every root that liked to snag toes, every hollow where shadows pooled thicker. Yet now, under the rising moon, the trunks seemed taller, their branches stretching higher into the dark. The air was cool and damp, carrying the scent of moss and distant water.
Little glass lanterns hung from low branches along the path, lit hours ago by omegas under Mara's sharp eye. Their small flames flickered as the procession passed, sending soft, dancing light across bark and faces.
The clearing they entered was not *her* clearing—the small, secret place with the flat rock where she'd cried to the Goddess. This was the Moonshadow Circle, used only for rituals and oaths.
It was larger, for one. The trees formed near-perfect circumference, their trunks spaced almost evenly, as if planted by deliberate hands. In the center, the ground was bare earth, packed smooth by years of paws and feet. At one end of the circle, a low stone altar rose, its surface engraved with the crescent-and-forest crest of Moonshadow.
Above, the canopy opened fully, revealing a clean slice of sky. The moon hovered directly above the center of the clearing now, luminous and watchful.
Torches had been planted at intervals around the circle's edge, their flames low and steady. The combined light of fire and moon bathed the wolves in a strange, two-toned glow—warm gold from below, cold silver from above.
Luna's breath caught.
No matter how many times she came here, the sight of the circle always did that to her—the sense of stepping into a space that sat slightly sideways from the rest of the world. A place where the veil between flesh and spirit thinned, where the Moon Goddess's attention felt not just hoped for, but *near.*
The pack began to fan out, forming a wide ring around the central space. Higher-ranked wolves edged closer to the front; omegas and lesser-ranked families took their places nearer the back.
Luna stopped where she always did: two rows from the trees, near a gap between a pair of warriors who wouldn't notice or care that she was there, as long as she didn't brush against them.
The seer moved to the altar with slow, deliberate steps. Up close, her age showed in the tremble of her hands, the deep lines etched into her face. But when she lifted her head to look at the moon, her clouded eyes were clear in their own way, reflecting silver.
Orion joined her, standing slightly to her right. Selene took her place just behind him and to the side, close enough that her presence was unmistakable, far enough that tradition was not offended. Kael and Rowan flanked them, solid and still as carved pillars.
The murmur of voices died as the seer raised one hand.
"Wolves of Moonshadow," she intoned, her voice surprisingly strong. "The moon is full. The Goddess watches. The Circle calls."
The pack answered as one.
"We answer."
The sound rolled through the trees, a low, resonant echo that made the fine hairs on Luna's arms stand on end.
"Tonight," the seer continued, "we give thanks. For the prey that has fed us, for the waters that have slaked our thirst, for the borders that have held, for the blood that has not yet been spilled."
A low, murmured rumble of assent moved through the crowd.
"Tonight," she went on, "we ask for guidance. For the Alpha who leads us. For the Luna who will stand beside him. For the warriors who guard our sleep. For the children who will carry our name when we join the ancestors."
Her cloudy gaze swept the circle, catching faces, shapes, hearts.
Luna felt, or imagined she felt, those ancient eyes pass over her. When they did, the warmth in her chest flared, then settled.
The seer reached down and picked up a small wooden bowl from the altar. In it, a dark liquid gleamed—wine from the stores, mixed with crushed moonflower petals.
She turned to Orion.
"Alpha of Moonshadow," she said. "Step forward."
He did, crossing the last small distance to stand directly under the full gaze of the moon. Silver light caught the planes of his face, highlighting the scar on his cheek, the determination in his jaw.
"Your blood carries the line of Rian, son of Calder, son of Jarek," the seer said. "Your shoulders carry the weight of this pack. Do you stand before the Moon Goddess with a heart unburdened by lies?"
Orion's voice, when he spoke, was steady and low.
"I do."
"Do you carry in your chest the will to protect, to provide, to lead—even when the path is dark and the cost is high?"
"I do."
The seer nodded once.
"Then take, and remember."
She dipped one gnarled finger into the bowl and drew a crescent over his brow with the dark liquid. The wine glistened wetly, then soaked into his skin like a second, subtler mark beneath the old scar.
The pack murmured again, breath rustling like wind through grass.
"Selene," the seer said, turning. "Daughter of Aric of Duskvale. Chosen of the Alpha. Step forward."
Selene did, gliding into the moon's direct light with the smooth assurance of someone who knew she belonged there.
For a moment, as the silver washed over her, she was almost otherworldly—hair gleaming like spun starlight, eyes bright and luminous. Luna's own heart stuttered, unwelcome admiration warring with everything she knew of the woman's teeth.
"Do you stand before the Moon Goddess with a heart unburdened by lies?" the seer asked.
Selene's lashes lowered in a brief, serene blink.
"I do," she said, voice smooth as cream.
"Do you carry in your chest the will to nurture, to steady, to temper the Alpha's fire when it burns too hot, to stoke it when it wanes?"
"I do," Selene repeated, the words ringing clear.
The seer dipped her finger again and drew a matching crescent over Selene's brow.
The air felt charged now, heavy with tradition and expectation. The pack leaned forward collectively, as if anticipating the next moment.
For tonight was no ordinary ceremony.
Tonight, in addition to thanksgiving and petitions, the Moon Goddess would be asked to bless the union of Alpha and future Luna. To seal, under her light, the bond that so many already assumed was destined.
The seer set the bowl back on the altar and lifted both hands to the sky.
"Moon Goddess," she called, her voice rising, threading between trunks, reaching for silver. "Lady of Night. Watcher of Wolves. We stand in your Circle. Your children, fangs bared against your enemies, throats bare before your judgment."
The pack echoed the last word softly.
"Judgment."
"Before you," the seer continued, "stands Orion, Alpha of Moonshadow. Before you stands Selene, the Luna he has chosen. If it pleases you, bless their union. Bind their souls. Strengthen our line through their bond."
All around the circle, wolves bowed their heads. Some dropped to one knee. Others tilted their faces up, eyes closed, letting the moon bathe their features.
Luna remained standing, though her head lowered. Her heart hammered.
She had known this was coming, of course. The entire pack had whispered of little else for weeks. Selene's fittings. The elders' speculations about the blessing. The pups' excited talk of "when we have a Luna."
Luna had folded linens for the occasion. Polished platters. Scrubbed the mud off boots that would tread the sacred earth.
She had not let herself think too closely about what the ceremony *meant.*
About what it might reveal.
The seer's voice dropped, becoming almost a chant.
"Goddess, see his heart. Goddess, see hers. If they are as we believe—if they are aligned with your will—let your light seal their paths as one."
A wind stirred, sudden and cool, sweeping through the clearing. Torches flickered, their flames bending as if in supplication. The leaves overhead rustled in a low, shivering harmony.
The moon seemed to brighten.
Luna's breath shallowly quickened as the world narrowed to that silver disc in the sky and the two figures standing in its direct gaze.
A strange, prickling sensation began at the base of her skull, crawling slowly down her spine. Her fingers tingled where they hung, loose but not quite relaxed, at her sides.
She told herself it was simply the weight of the moment. The collective focus of so many minds and hearts. The echo of the seer's ancient words.
But as the next breath slid into her lungs, something... shifted.
The silver light pouring down into the clearing seemed to thicken, becoming almost tangible. Luna could *feel* it on her skin, cool and soft as mist. It pooled on the earth, sank into footprints, kissed foreheads.
In her chest, the ember she'd carried since her desperate prayer flared, hot enough to make her press a hand to her sternum.
*You're here,* she thought, not as a plea this time, but as an acknowledgement. *You're listening.*
Above, the moon's light sharpened further, transforming from a general glow to a focused beam.
It struck Orion first.
He stiffened, just barely. The pack gasped softly as the light around him intensified, outlining his form in shimmering, almost translucent white. The crescent of wine on his brow glowed faintly, matching the color of the moon.
For a heartbeat, he seemed more spirit than flesh.
Then the light darted—fast and fluid as a hunting wolf—from him to Selene.
Her eyes widened a fraction as the silver washed over her, making the jewels at her ears flash like captured stars. The crescent on her brow flared brightly.
The seer's hands trembled.
"It is good," she whispered, more to herself than to them. "She sees you. She—"
The words cut off abruptly.
Because the light did not settle. It did not sink into Orion and Selene and fade, as it had in mate-blessing ceremonies before.
It moved.
Like a living thing, the moonlight jumped from Selene's brow and shot upward, as if reconsidering.
A murmur rippled through the pack. Heads lifted. Eyes opened.
The silver glow curved in the air, leaving a faint trail like the afterimage of a comet. It hovered for the barest of moments at the center of the clearing, bright and undecided.
Then, with sudden, terrifying intent, it arrowed outward.
Straight toward the edge of the circle.
Straight toward Luna.
She had just enough time to see it coming—a streak of cold flame—before it hit her.
The world vanished.
Silver swallowed everything: trees, faces, torches, earth. Sound cut out like someone had clapped hands around her ears. The only thing that existed was light and a roaring sensation in her veins.
The ember in her chest exploded into a bonfire.
Luna couldn't breathe. Her knees buckled. Her hand flew out, blindly grasping for balance, and found nothing but air.
Somewhere distant, she thought she heard her own voice cry out.
The light poured into her through every pore, flooding her veins, slamming into her bones. It wasn't hot, exactly. It was... *vast.* Too big for her small, battered body. It pressed against the inside of her skin, searching, testing, as if measuring whether the vessel could hold.
Images flickered through her mind, disjointed and blazing:
A wolf made of starlight, fur streaming like a galaxy.
An ocean, black and endless, with silver waves that rose without wind.
A forest older than any she'd walked, its trees singing in a language of creaks and groans she almost understood.
And through it all, a presence—not speaking, not yet, but watching. Weighing.
*Not a mistake,* something in that presence insisted, though no words formed. *Not an accident. A choice.*
Her heart lurched.
Then, as quickly as it had come, the light pulled back.
Luna fell to her knees, palms hitting the packed earth. Her breath tore into her lungs in ragged gasps. Her vision swam, then slowly cleared.
Sound returned in a rush: shouting, gasping, a low, shocked roar building like distant thunder.
She looked up.
The circle stared back.
Dozens—hundreds—of eyes fixed on her. Some wide with fear. Some narrow with suspicion. Some so full of bewilderment they looked almost empty.
Luna's own gaze snagged on the dais.
The seer stood frozen, arms still half-raised, face ashen beneath the silver.
Selene's hand had flown to her own chest, her eyes huge, mouth parted. For the first time since Luna had known her, she looked truly, utterly stunned.
And Orion—
Orion was staring at Luna as if he'd never seen her before.
His grey eyes were blown wide, pupils dilated, chest heaving. The silver glow around him had not entirely faded. It clung to him, especially around his heart, pulsing in time with his racing pulse.
He took one step forward.
Luna's world tilted.
Because as his gaze locked fully onto hers, something *snapped* between them.
Not like a thread breaking. Like one pulling taut.
A jolt ripped through her body, starting at the center of her chest and radiating outward in a series of shuddering waves. Her breath caught in her throat as an overwhelming rush of sensation flooded her—not her own, but his.
Flashes of exhaustion honed to discipline.
The weight of responsibility—a constant, crushing pressure, like a yoke he'd long since stopped questioning.
A fierce, all-consuming love for the pack ringed around them, for the land beneath their feet, for the crest carved into the altar.
Beneath that, buried so deep he almost didn't let himself see it: a well of loneliness as cold and still as a winter lake.
It hit her like a punch.
Her own feelings surged up to meet it—startlement, confusion, that ever-present thread of fear—and collided with his in a shower of sparks that left her dizzy.
She could *feel* him. Not his thoughts, not exactly. But his... essence. His wolf. His steady, unbending will.
And layered over all of that now, bright and sharp and terrifyingly clear, was something new.
Recognition.
"No," Luna whispered, the word ripped from her lungs before she even knew she was speaking.
Across the clearing, Orion's lips parted.
He could feel *her.* She knew it as surely as she knew her own heartbeat. Her smallness. Her perpetual ache. Her yearning—for safety, for purpose, for something *bigger* than the life she'd been given.
And underneath all of that, deeper than even she had realized: a fierce, stubborn refusal to disappear. The same ember the Goddess had kindled now flared in his awareness as if it had always been there.
The bond snapped fully into place.
The world contracted to a single, impossibly thin line connecting their hearts—a line of silver and heat and thrumming power. It sang in her blood like a plucked string.
Mate.
The word bloomed in her mind, not hers alone. An echo. A truth spoken in twin voices.
Her stomach swooped.
She'd heard stories, of course. Every wolf pup grew up on them. The fated mate bond—rare, sacred. A gift from the Moon Goddess herself. When it came, storytellers said, it was like the world tilted the right way for the first time. Like air in starving lungs, water in parched mouths.
Like coming home.
Luna did not feel like she was coming home.
She felt like she'd just been shoved to the edge of a cliff she'd never known she was standing on.
"Goddess," someone whispered from the circle's edge. "Did you see—?"
"The light—"
"It went past Selene."
"Past—straight to—"
"The runt?"
The murmurs rose, a hiss of shock and disbelief.
Selene took a step back. Then another.
Her eyes snapped between Orion and Luna so fast it was a wonder her neck didn't crack. Color drained from her face, then flooded back in a hot, blotchy wash.
"No," she breathed, the word a raw denial. "No. This is... this is wrong."
The seer seemed to shake herself back to awareness. Her mouth worked soundlessly for a moment before she managed, "Goddess..."
She turned slowly, her movements stiff, and looked from Orion to Luna, then up at the moon.
The silence that fell then was different from the earlier sacred stillness. This was heavy, suffocating, choked with all the things no one dared to say.
Luna's hands trembled where they pressed into the earth.
"No," she whispered again, though she wasn't sure who she was answering—Selene, herself, or the invisible presence that had just drawn this cruel, bright line through her life.
Orion's throat bobbed.
"Luna," he said.
It was the first time he'd spoken her name like *that*—not as an incidental command, not as a convenience, but as if it meant something.
The sound of it on his lips sent another shiver through the bond, like a chord struck on a harped string.
Her eyes burned.
"I... it's..." She couldn't form the sentence. Words dissolved on her tongue.
A low, involuntary sound broke from Orion's chest. Not a growl. Not a howl. Something in between—raw, startled, pained.
Kael's hand landed on his shoulder, fingers digging in.
"Orion," the Beta said quietly, urgently. "Alpha. Steady."
Orion sucked in a breath, muscles tensing beneath Kael's grip. His gaze did not leave Luna.
All around them, the wolves of Moonshadow watched.
Some faces were openly aghast.
Some were carefully blank, eyes darting from Selene's pale fury to Orion's stunned focus.
A few—very few—held something else. The beginning of... recalculation.
*If* the Moon Goddess had made a choice... what did that mean?
Selene's voice, when it came, was thin and sharp.
"There's been a mistake," she said. "The light—an accident, a... trick. This is a runt." The word cracked like a whip. "An orphan. How could the Goddess—"
"The Goddess does not make mistakes."
The seer's voice cut through the rising noise like a blade.
All eyes snapped to her.
She stood rigid, every line of her body sharp with shock and something like... fear. But her gaze was clear, fixed on the moon.
"I have seen false pairings," she said, her tone hardening. "Heard wolves *wish* themselves into bonds that were not truly there. This is not that."
She stepped down from the altar, bare feet whispering over packed earth, and moved—slowly, painfully slowly—toward Luna.
The crowd parted before her.
Luna wanted to sink into the ground. To vanish between roots. To run.
She did not move.
The seer stopped a few paces away and looked down at her.
Up close, the old woman's eyes were even stranger—cloudy, yes, but with that same thrumming silver Luna had seen in the light itself. They felt like they were looking *through* Luna, not *at* her.
"Stand," the seer said.
Luna's legs trembled as she obeyed. She swayed once, catching herself. The world still seemed too bright around the edges, the silver of moon and the gold of torches blurring.
The seer reached out and, with a hand that shook, pressed two fingers lightly to Luna's sternum.
Heat flared under the touch. Not the searing rush from before—smaller, contained. Focused.
The seer sucked in a sharp breath.
"It's in her," she whispered. "Old and deep. As old as—"
She snapped her mouth shut.
"What?" Selene demanded, voice rising. "Old as what? She's nothing. She's—"
"Silent."
This time it was Orion who spoke.
The word was not shouted. It didn't need to be. It rolled out of him like a low growl, backed by the authority that came not just from his rank, but from the bond still humming between him and Luna.
The entire circle flinched. Even Selene's mouth clamped shut, white lines etching around her lips.
For an instant, Luna saw something inside Orion she'd never seen before, even in training or war councils.
Rage.
Not loud. Not uncontrolled. A cold, furious spark that had been struck by the idea of someone—anyone—dismissing what the Goddess had just revealed.
It passed almost as quickly as it came, swallowed by shock and conflict. But Luna had seen it.
And—because the bond left no room for certain kinds of lies—she had *felt* it.
It thudded through her like borrowed thunder.
The seer withdrew her hand from Luna's chest and turned back toward the altar.
"This is no mistake," she said, voice shaking but strong. "The Moon Goddess has spoken."
Her gaze flicked, briefly, to Orion.
"Your fated mate," she said quietly, so only those nearest could hear, "is not the Luna you chose."
Her words might as well have been thrown stones.
"What does that matter?" Selene burst out, color surging in her cheeks. "We all know—the Goddess's will is not law. Orion has a choice. He *chose* me. He—"
"Selene." Orion's voice again. Tighter.
She turned to him, eyes bright with a wild mix of hurt and defiance.
"You *chose* me," she said, the words trembling. "You did. Before all of this. Before some... some trick of light. We've planned. We've built. We—"
Her hand flattened against his chest, over the spot where Luna could still feel his heart pounding in echo with her own.
"You love me," she said, so soft only he, and those directly beside them, could hear.
Luna's insides twisted.
The bond between her and Orion thrummed, picking up the jagged edges of his turmoil.
Love, yes. In its way. Or something close: deep affection, trust, a shared history of strategy and partnership. But under it—now that the Goddess's thread had snapped taut—something else pulsed. Something complicated and wounded and stubborn.
He looked from Selene's desperate face to Luna's stricken one and back again.
In that heartbeat, Luna saw his thoughts not as words, but as a storm.
Duty. Honor. Tradition. The pack's stability. The promise to his father. The carefully laid plans for alliances and heirs.
And now, this.
Her.
He dragged in a breath through his teeth.
"I..." His voice faltered. The entire pack leaned in, breathless. He swallowed, jaw working. "This is not the time."
"When, then?" Selene's voice rose, ragged around the edges. "When, Orion? When everyone has had time to whisper? To laugh? To—"
"Enough."
It wasn't Orion or the seer who spoke this time.
It was Beta Kael.
He stepped forward, placing himself subtly between Orion and the weight of the circle's expectations.
"The Goddess has revealed her will," Kael said, his voice carrying. "We will not unravel it with shouting in her sacred space."
His gaze traveled over the gathered wolves.
"We will complete the ceremony," he went on. "We will thank the Moon for her guidance. Then we will... discuss what it means."
His emphasis on "we" was deliberate. No one wolf—Alpha or otherwise—would decide this alone. Not tonight.
The seer nodded, relief and worry warring in her expression.
"Yes," she said. "The Ceremony must be completed."
She lifted her hands once more, though they trembled.
"Moon Goddess," she said, voice thinner now but still threaded with that old ritual cadence. "You have shown us more than we asked. We... accept your guidance, even if we do not yet understand it."
Her words felt less like a proclamation, more like a plea.
"Bless this pack," she went on. "Bless our Alpha. Bless the one you have bound to him. Bless the one he has chosen." Her jaw tightened briefly at that inclusion. "Grant us wisdom to walk the path you have set our feet upon."
The pack murmured the final line with her, some voices steady, others quavering.
"So shall it be."
"So shall it be."
Luna's knees threatened to give out again.
She remained frozen in place, barely hearing the rest of the formal words. The bond between her and Orion hummed like a live wire, too new and too raw to ignore. Every breath he took tugged at something inside her. Every spike of his confusion rattled her bones.
She could feel Selene's gaze like a brand on her skin.
When the Ceremony at last reached its end—the final bowings, the quiet song hummed low in their chests, the seer's whispered thanks—the pack began to break apart, voices rising in a confused swarm.
"Did you *see—*"
"The light went straight—"
"Luna? The orphan?"
"Selene looked—"
"What will this mean for the alliance with—"
"Elia's girl, isn't she? At least, Elia's the only one who—"
"Fated mates. In *our* pack. After all these years—"
Luna stumbled backward, each step an effort, as if she were pushing through chest-deep water. She needed to get away. Away from the staring eyes. Away from the silver circle. Away from—
"Luna."
His voice again, closer now.
She flinched as if struck.
Orion had stepped away from the altar, from Selene, from the tight knot of his top wolves. Kael hovered a few paces behind him, clearly torn between giving his Alpha space and dragging him back into the protective center.
Orion hesitated at the edge of the space that had opened around Luna. No one wanted to stand too near her now, not until they knew what, exactly, she had become.
His features were schooled, but his eyes—Goddess, his eyes—were a storm.
"Are you—" He stopped, frowned, recalibrated. "Are you hurt?"
Of all the things he could have asked, that was somehow the one that nearly undid her.
Hurt?
She looked down at her hands. At her thin arms. No new bruises bloomed. Her skin was unbroken. Her body, for once, bore no fresh marks.
"Yes," she whispered, before she could stop herself.
He stilled.
Something flared in the bond—alarm, anger, guilt. Not at her, but at the situation, at the idea that his mate—*his mate*—stood wounded in his circle.
"Where?" he asked.
She lifted a shaking hand and pressed it to her chest.
"Here," she said.
His jaw clenched.
Before he could answer—before he could step closer, close that awful, electric distance—a hand like a beautifully manicured claw snagged his arm.
"Orion," Selene said, her voice thin but steely. "We have to talk. *Now.*"
Her grip was not hard enough to move him if he didn't want to be moved.
But she held it with the certainty of someone who had been there, at his side, in the quiet, grinding minutes of leadership. Someone the pack fully expected to see facing these questions with him.
His eyes flicked between Selene's hand and Luna's face.
Conflict twisted through him, dragging at both of them through the bond.
Duty. Choice. Desire—not yet formed, but seeded now by the Goddess's ruthless line.
Luna took a step back.
"You should—" Her voice broke. She swallowed. "You should go."
The words cut her tongue as they left it.
His gaze locked on hers for a final, burning moment.
"I..." he began.
She shook her head minutely.
"Alpha," Kael said quietly, voice edged with the practical weight of looming catastrophe. "We need to contain this. Before rumors—before panic—"
Orion closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again.
He inclined his head—first, almost imperceptibly, toward Luna. Then more formally toward the seer, toward the circle.
Then he turned away.
The moment his back faced her, the bond snapped tight again, a visceral reminder that it didn't care about direction or distance. It simply *was,* a new axis around which her world would now be forced to spin.
Selene walked at his side, every line of her body tense, her smile frozen in place like a mask cracking under strain.
Luna watched them go—with the pack's future Luna still at the Alpha's right hand, and the Goddess's chosen mate standing alone at the edge of the sacred circle, shaking.
The voices around her blurred into a dull roar.
Without entirely remembering how, she found her way to the trees. Into their shadowed shelter. Away from the torches and the staring eyes.
Once the canopy swallowed her, the sounds of the pack dulled. The night sounds rose instead—crickets, a distant owl, the quiet creak of branches settling.
Luna stumbled to the first tree her hand could find and pressed her forehead against its rough bark.
"Why?" she whispered into the moss and wood. "Why *me*?"
The Goddess did not answer with another blinding flood of silver. No ancient voice boomed from the sky.
But the ember in her chest—the one that had been stoked from spark to coal by her prayers, her dreams, her desperate longing—flamed higher.
Not enough to give her understanding.
Enough to make one thing painfully, irrevocably clear.
The Moon Goddess had not forgotten the runt beneath the moon.
She'd marked her.
Bound her to the one wolf in the pack she could least afford to be tethered to.
Luna slid to her knees among the roots, fingers digging into the earth as tears finally broke free, hot and helpless.
Above the trees, the full moon hung cold and perfect, light spilling through the leaves in quiet, watchful streams.
In the sacred circle they'd just left behind, a young Alpha and his chosen Luna argued in low, urgent tones. In the shadows at the forest's edge, a runt wept, her heart torn between terror and a fragile, impossible bloom of something like hope.
And far beyond both, in a realm of silver seas and singing trees, an old, patient presence stirred a little more awake, watching the lines she'd just drawn begin to pull.
The Moon Ceremony had done what it was meant to do.
It had revealed.
Now, the true work—the painful, tangled, holy work of choice and consequence—would begin.