The silver moon hung low over Ashwood Manor, casting long shadows across the ceremonial grounds where my entire future was about to crumble.
I stood in the center of the ancient stone circle, acutely aware of three hundred pairs of eyes fixed on me. The autumn air bit at my bare shoulders—the ceremonial dress left little room for warmth or modesty. But that wasn't why I was shaking.
Tonight was my eighteenth birthday. The night I was supposed to shift for the first time.
The night I was supposed to prove I wasn't the family disappointment everyone whispered I was.
"Seraphina Ashwood." Elder Thomas's voice boomed across the gathering, formal and cold. "You stand before the Ashwood Pack on the eve of your coming of age. By the ancient laws of our kind, you will now demonstrate your wolf form and claim your place among us."
My father—Alpha Jonathan Ashwood—stood to the right of the circle, his expression carved from granite. Not a trace of paternal warmth. Just expectation. And behind that, something I'd seen growing in his eyes for years: doubt.
To his left stood Marcus Blackthorn, my betrothed since childhood. Tall, golden-haired, undeniably handsome in his formal blacks. The perfect Alpha heir. We'd been promised to each other to unite our families, to strengthen both packs. I'd spent eighteen years believing in that promise.
But as our eyes met across the circle, I saw no warmth there either. Just cold assessment.
"Begin the shift, Seraphina," Elder Thomas commanded.
I closed my eyes and reached for that place inside myself—the place where my wolf was supposed to live. I'd been preparing for this moment my entire life. Every lesson, every meditation, every painful training session had been building to this.
Feel the moon's pull, I reminded myself, repeating the mantra I'd been taught since childhood. Let the beast rise. Let the change take you.
Nothing.
I dug deeper, calling to the wolf that should be there. Around me, I could hear the whispers starting.
"What's taking so long?"
"She should have shifted by now..."
"Oh goddess, don't tell me."
Sweat beaded on my forehead despite the cold. My hands trembled. I could feel the moon's light on my skin, could sense the power in the air, thick and electric. But inside me, there was only... silence.
Empty silence where my wolf should be.
"Seraphina." My father's voice cut through the murmurs. Sharp. Impatient. "We're waiting."
"I'm trying," I whispered, hating how small my voice sounded.
"Try harder."
I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms hard enough to draw blood. The pain helped me focus. I reached again, deeper this time, desperately searching for any spark of the beast that should define my very existence.
Please, I begged silently. Please be there.
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
Five minutes passed. Then ten. The whispers grew into open murmurs, and then into barely concealed laughter.
"The Ashwood heir can't shift!"
"Defective..."
"All those years of arrogance, and she's just an Omega..."
"Not even an Omega—she's nothing."
My eyes snapped open. The circle of faces surrounding me ranged from pitying to disgusted to openly mocking. My younger sister Lydia stood beside our mother, barely suppressing a smirk. She'd shifted perfectly on her sixteenth birthday two years ago—a beautiful grey wolf, strong and swift.
Everything I should have been.
"Enough." Marcus's voice rang out, and the crowd fell silent. He stepped forward, his boots clicking against the stone. When he reached the edge of the circle, he didn't cross it. Didn't come to stand beside me like a supportive mate would.
He stopped at the boundary and looked at me like I was something broken.
"Marcus?" My voice cracked on his name.
His jaw tightened. For just a moment, I thought I saw regret flicker in his amber eyes. But then his expression hardened into something cold and final.
"I, Marcus Blackthorn, future Alpha of the Blackthorn Pack, hereby dissolve my betrothal to Seraphina Ashwood."
The world tilted.
Someone gasped. The crowd erupted in shocked whispers. But Marcus wasn't finished.
"I will not bind myself to weakness." His voice carried across the gathering, each word a knife to my chest. "I will not tie my pack's future to a wolf who cannot even claim her own beast. The Blackthorn line deserves better than a defective mate."
Defective.
The word echoed in my skull, drowning out everything else. I'd heard the whispers before—the concerns about my late development, the worried looks when I failed to shift at sixteen like most wolves did. But I'd always believed it would come. That I was just a late bloomer.
Now, standing in this circle under the mocking moon, I realized the truth.
I was broken.
"Marcus, wait." I started forward, but he'd already turned his back.
"The betrothal is dissolved," he announced to the crowd. "Let it be witnessed."
"Witnessed," the Elders intoned in unison.
Just like that. Eighteen years of promises, of planning, of shaping my entire life around becoming his Luna—gone.
I looked to my father, desperate for anything. Defense. Comfort. Even just acknowledgment of the humiliation I was enduring.
He wouldn't meet my eyes.
"The ceremony is concluded," Elder Thomas declared, his voice devoid of sympathy. "Seraphina Ashwood has failed to demonstrate her wolf form. As such, she cannot be recognized as a full member of the pack."
"Father" ,I turned to Alpha Jonathan, my voice breaking.
"Not here, Seraphina." His words were clipped, dismissive. "We'll discuss this in private."
Discuss what? I wanted to scream. Discuss how your heir is worthless? How I've shamed our family? How I'm not even worthy of being called a wolf?
The crowd was already dispersing, their whispers following them like a toxic cloud. I caught fragments as they passed:
"always knew she was strange"
"waste of good bloodlines"
"Marcus made the right choice"
"should send her away before she embarrasses them further"
My mother swept past without a word, her disappointment radiating off her in waves. Lydia followed, pausing just long enough to whisper: "Guess you're not so special after all, sister."
Within minutes, the ceremonial grounds had emptied. Even my father had left, his broad back disappearing into the manor house without a backward glance.
Only I remained, standing alone in the circle of ancient stones, wearing a ceremonial dress for a transformation that never came.
The moon's light felt like mockery now.
I don't know how long I stood there. Long enough for the cold to seep into my bones. Long enough for the reality to truly sink in.
I was defective. Broken. Worthless.
No wolf. No mate. No future in the pack that had been my entire world.
When I finally moved, my legs nearly gave out. I caught myself against one of the standing stones, its surface rough and cold under my palm. Carved into the ancient rock were the words that had been my family's motto for generations:
"Strength Through Unity. Unity Through Blood."
I traced the letters with trembling fingers.
I had the blood. But without the wolf, I had no strength. And without strength, I had no place in this unity.
A sound escaped my throat,half laugh, half sob. Hysterical and broken, echoing off the stones.
No. I wouldn't cry. I wouldn't give them that satisfaction.
I pushed away from the stone and walked,slow and steady, despite the way my whole body wanted to collapse,across the grounds and toward the manor. Not to the main entrance where I might run into someone. I took the servant's door, slipping through the shadows like the ghost I'd apparently become.
My room was in the east wing, far from the family quarters. "To give you space to study," they'd always said. Now I realized the truth,they'd been distancing themselves from me for years, preparing for this moment.
Preparing to cast me aside.
I locked my door and leaned against it, finally allowing myself to shake. The ceremonial dress suddenly felt suffocating. I tore it off, letting the expensive silk pool on the floor like shed skin.
In the mirror, I looked at myself. Really looked.
Green eyes—bright and clear, but not the golden amber of a true wolf. Dark auburn hair that fell in waves to my waist. Pale skin unmarked by any sign of the beast that should live beneath it. I was attractive enough by human standards. But among wolves, I was nothing.
A defect.
I grabbed the first clothes I could find—jeans, a sweater, boots—and began to pack. One bag. Just the essentials. I didn't have much that was truly mine anyway.
As I moved through the room, collecting the few possessions I cared about, a strange calm settled over me.
They wanted me gone? Fine. I'd leave.
But I wouldn't slink away in shame. I wouldn't let their rejection define me.
Somehow, some way, I would find out why my wolf wouldn't emerge. I would discover what was wrong with me—and I would fix it.
And then?
Then I would make every single person who laughed at me tonight regret it.
The thought should have frightened me. Sweet, obedient Seraphina Ashwood, plotting revenge? But as I zipped my bag closed and took one last look at the room I'd grown up in, I felt something kindle in my chest.
Not a wolf. Not yet.
But something darker. Hungrier.
They want to see weakness? I thought, slinging my bag over my shoulder. I'll show them what weakness can become.
I left through my window, climbing down the trellis like I'd done a hundred times as a child when I wanted to explore the woods. But this time, I wasn't coming back.
As I hit the ground and started toward the tree line, I heard a voice behind me.
"Running away, Sera?"
I turned. Marcus stood in the shadow of the manor, still in his formal blacks. For a moment, neither of us spoke.
"What do you want?" I asked flatly.
He shifted uncomfortably. "I... I wanted to explain."
"Explain what? That you're an ambitious coward who'd rather break a promise than risk his precious reputation?" The words came out cold and sharp. I barely recognized my own voice. "You made yourself very clear, Alpha."
"It's not personal," he said, and actually had the audacity to sound like he believed it. "You understand the position I'm in. I need a strong Luna."
"And I'm not strong. Yes, I heard you. The whole pack heard you." I turned away. "Goodbye, Marcus."
"Where will you go?"
I looked back over my shoulder, meeting his eyes one last time. In the moonlight, I could see the conflict there—guilt warring with relief. He was glad to be rid of me, even if his conscience bothered him.
"Somewhere I can become what you said I'd never be," I said quietly. "Strong."
And then I walked into the darkness of the Forbidden Woods, leaving behind everything I'd ever known.
Behind me, the Ashwood Manor blazed with lights and laughter as the pack continued their celebrations. They'd probably already forgotten about me.
Good.
Let them forget Seraphina Ashwood, the defective heir.
Because when I came back—and I would come back—they wouldn't recognize what I'd become.
The woods swallowed me whole, and for the first time in my life, I felt something that wasn't quite hope, but close enough.
Freedom.
End of Chapter 1