The rogue's body hit the ground with a dull thud, and Freya stood frozen, her breath clouding in the cold night air. His words echoed in her mind like a distant drumbeat:
"You carry it... the blood of the Luna Queens."
What did that even mean?
The wind howled through the trees, carrying the scent of pine, earth… and magic. A strange hum filled the air. The moon above flared unnaturally bright, illuminating the clearing in a pale silver glow.
Freya stepped back from the rogue's lifeless form, her pulse pounding in her ears. Every part of her body screamed at her to run, to find shelter, but something rooted her to the spot. The moment felt sacred—dangerous, but sacred.
Then, it happened.
A low vibration began in the earth beneath her feet, subtle at first, then stronger. The leaves shivered. The wind died. The shadows around her rippled like disturbed water.
And then she heard the voice.
Not out loud. Not in the wind. But inside her, deeper than her bones—an ancient, feminine voice that resonated with power and grief.
"You were born of forgotten royalty, child of the moon. You were never meant to beg for love. You were meant to rule."
Freya gasped, falling to her knees as heat spread from her chest to her fingertips. Her hands glowed faintly—silver threads pulsed beneath her skin like veins of moonlight. Her heart felt too large for her body, full of pain and fire.
She screamed—not in fear, but in agony as her soul cracked wide open.
Visions flooded her mind.
A line of regal women standing on cliffs, cloaked in moonlight, crowned in silver and power. A white wolf the size of a horse howling beneath an eclipse. A throne carved from obsidian. A woman burned at the stake by her own mate, betrayed for power.
And in the center of it all—Freya.
Crowned. Glowing. Fierce.
Then—darkness.
She collapsed.
—
She didn't know how long she'd lain there, unconscious, but when Freya woke, the first thing she noticed was the silence. The rogue's body was gone.
Vanished.
No blood. No scent. No evidence.
As if he had never been real.
Freya sat up, her limbs aching, her head spinning. The glow in her hands had faded, but she still felt... different. Like something inside her had been uncaged. Her wolf was awake now, restless, pacing beneath her skin, whispering things she didn't understand.
She had been rejected. Her mate had thrown her away like she was dirt. And yet… now she had something far more powerful than a bond.
She had a purpose.
Not just to survive.
To rise.
To become.
The words echoed again in her mind.
"You were never meant to beg for love. You were meant to rule."
Freya looked up at the moon, tears clinging to her lashes. "Then show me how."
—
For days, she wandered the borderlands.
She didn't return to the Moonlight Pack. She couldn't. Her rejection had been public, devastating. Kael's cold eyes haunted her every time she closed her own. The humiliation was a wound that bled with every heartbeat.
But her instincts kept her alive. She found shelter in caves, learned to trap small animals, drank from icy streams. She shifted partially—her wolf stronger now, faster, hungry for the world. For revenge.
Her thoughts returned constantly to the rogue's final words.
Luna Queens.
She'd heard of them once, in an old bedtime story her mother told her when she was a child. They were myths—female leaders who ruled entire wolf kingdoms with power equal to or greater than any Alpha. It was said they were blessed by the Moon Goddess herself.
But those stories had faded from pack culture. Buried. Forgotten.
Because men like Kael had made sure queens were never remembered.
One night, as she slept beneath a canopy of stars, Freya had another vision.
In it, she stood in a mirror-like lake, her body glowing under the moonlight. Her reflection stared back at her—but it wasn't quite her. This version wore silver armor, her eyes alight with fury and grace. She looked… unstoppable.
"Seek the Crescent Moon," the voice said again.
"There, your blood will be tested. Your throne awaits."
She awoke with the name still on her lips.
The Crescent Moon.
---
Two weeks later, Freya found the woman in the forest.
Or rather—the woman found her.
Freya had been tracking a deer, half-shifted and starving, when she felt a presence. Not just any wolf. A powerful one. Female. Ancient.
"I see you've awakened," came the voice, smooth and sharp like silk over steel.
Freya turned.
A tall, dark-skinned woman stood among the trees. She wore robes of silver and deep violet, her eyes gleaming gold, her aura so potent that Freya immediately lowered her head without realizing.
"I—who are you?" Freya asked, her voice hoarse from disuse.
"I am Nyra," the woman said, stepping closer. "Last guardian of the Crescent Moon Order. And you, Freya Evergreen, are the first of your blood to return in centuries."
Freya's breath caught.
"So it's real," she whispered. "The Luna Queens."
Nyra nodded solemnly. "Erased. Hunted. Buried by the Alphas of old. But the bloodline never fully died. It waited. You are the proof."
Freya swallowed. "Why me?"
Nyra's gaze was unwavering. "Because the world is unbalanced. The Moonlight Pack is falling into darkness. And the mate who rejected you is only the beginning of what must be undone. You were chosen not for love, Freya… but for legacy."
Freya took a shaky breath.
"I'm not strong enough."
"Then we will make you strong," Nyra said. "Come. If you survive the trials, you will be reborn not as a rejected mate… but as a Queen."
---
As Freya followed Nyra deeper into the mountains, her thoughts turned one last time to Kael.
To the cold finality in his voice. The way he looked through her like she was nothing.
One day, she would return.
Not to beg.
Not to love.
But to stand before him as a woman he could never control again.