The wind stirred as she stepped onto the ceremonial grounds—soft, almost reverent, as though the land itself remembered who she was.
Arielle Storm walked without hesitation, her cloak billowing behind her like a whisper of shadows. The crowd gathered under the moonlight, laughter and voices blurring into one restless hum. They didn't see her yet.
Not yet.
Three years ago, she had stood here with a trembling heart and shattered dignity. Tonight, her spine was straight, her face unreadable, her aura cold and quiet like a winter morning. She belonged to no one now. And that made her dangerous.
"You don't have to do this," a voice had told her earlier that night.
"He won't recognize you. You're not the same girl."
"Exactly." She had smiled. "That's the point."
Arielle moved to the edge of the crowd, the scent of roasted meat and pine sap thick in the air. Pack members danced and drank around a blazing bonfire. The Alpha sat on his raised platform, flanked by ranked wolves.
Kael.
She didn't look directly at him.
Not yet.
Someone brushed past her, pausing briefly. A young she-wolf, no older than sixteen, glanced at her with a frown, her nose twitching.
Then a whisper.
"Is that...?"
More heads turned. Eyes widened.
And the name passed from one mouth to another like wildfire on dry grass.
"Arielle?"
"Isn't she the one—?"
"The rejected Luna...?"
The air shifted.
Arielle didn't flinch. She simply raised her chin, stepped forward, and let them look.
Let them remember.
Across the platform, Kael froze.
His hand, mid-reach for a goblet, stilled in the air. His wolf stirred deep inside him — restless. Uneasy. A scent curled into his lungs, faint but hauntingly familiar. Like something once precious, buried long ago.
He stood slowly.
Their eyes met.
For the first time in three years.
She didn't blink.
Didn't smile.
Didn't bow.
She only stared — quiet, strong, unforgiving.
"Let him feel what I felt."
[To be continued...]