ASHES OF THE LUNA QUEEN

The cold bit through Aria’s cloak as she crossed the pack border before sunrise. No ceremony. No farewell.Only the soft rustle of trees, the whisper of distant wolves, and the weight of silence pressing against her chest like iron chains.She didn’t look back. There was nothing to return to, not yet. Not until she was no longer the woman they thought they could discard.Her wolf stirred uneasily beneath her skin. Not from fear. From hunger, a deep craving for something she could not name. A desire for justice. For understanding. For power, maybe. But more than anything, for truth.Who was she, if not Luna?Who was she, if not his?By mid-morning, Aria reached the edge of the mountain pass, the path that led into neutral lands. Beyond it stretched dozens of territories, some wild, some allied, some dangerous. She hadn’t traveled outside the Nightwind Pack since her early days as Kaelen’s mate. Her mark, once a badge of pride, still burned faintly beneath the surface of her skin.But n

The air shifted the moment the spy crossed the border.Theron was already waiting by the edge of the high pass, where jagged rocks sliced the wind like blades. Aria stood beside him, arms crossed, her cloak billowing. She hadn't been seen in over a month, and the stories about her disappearance were already spreading like fire through the territories.A Nightwind insignia glinted on the stranger’s collar, a crescent moon split by a single silver claw.He was young. Nervous. Barely more than a scout. And bleeding."Your Luna has returned," he said, dropping to one knee before Aria.She didn’t move."I’m no longer your Luna.""Maybe not by title," the scout replied, voice shaking, "but by right, you still are."Theron raised a brow. "Why come here, boy? This mountain takes lives."The scout glanced up, wide-eyed. “Because Kaelen doesn’t know I’m here. And if he finds out, he’ll have me executed.”Aria’s expression didn’t soften. “Then speak. And quickly.”The scout hesitated, then blurt

The air split with the sound of screaming magic. Serenya’s body trembled, her limbs cracking at unnatural angles, her skin shimmering with iridescent patterns that looked nothing like fur. Her mouth opened, but no words came, only a choked hiss, like steam escaping from a dying star.Kaelen clutched his head, groaning on his knees. Calder raised his sword beside Aria. “She’s not shifting. She’s shedding.”Aria didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her breath caught as she saw what was beneath.A shadowy figure, feminine and serpentine, with veins of white fire and a face like melted glass, peeled itself from Serenya’s trembling frame. Its eyes were hollow, but not empty, within them churned reflections of other faces, other lives… versions of Aria that never survived.“You do not belong,” the creature whispered, its voice echoing in multiple tones, some sounding eerily like Aria herself. “You were supposed to burn.”“I did burn,” Aria replied, stepping forward. “And I rose.”The creature sneer

The storm rolled in just past midnight. Not rain. Not thunder. But wolves. Three cloaked figures emerged through the fog at the edge of Nightwind territory, their steps silent, their auras cloaked too tightly to read. The guards at the southern post raised their weapons instantly.But the lead figure, tall, hooded, with a blade strapped across his back, lifted both hands in peace. “I come with no war,” he said. “Only with truth.”The guard didn’t lower his weapon. “Name. Rank. Pack.”The stranger stepped forward and removed his hood. The guards flinched. His eyes were glowing, not gold, not silver, but a deep violet lined with white cracks, as though starlight itself had broken behind his irises. “My name is Orion Thorne,” he said. “I am the last of the Bloodhowl Pack, and I have come to speak with Aria Nightwind.”Aria stood on the high balcony of the council tower when the messenger reached her. She recognized the name before the scout even finished. “Bloodhowl?” she whispered. “Tha

The Eastern Wastes were not dead. They just slept differently. Ash trees towered upside down, roots stretching into the sky like the bones of giants. The soil pulsed faintly with violet veins. The wind whispered not in gusts but in names, some of them familiar, some of them hers.Aria led the small company across the ridge: Orion, Theron, Calder, and two scouts from Nightwind. None spoke much. The Wastes had a way of making even the boldest wolf quiet.At the edge of a black plateau stood the Temple of Shattered Stars, a broken obsidian structure half-buried in the land, the sky above it always swirling with starless clouds. No one had spoken of it in centuries. Not in books. Not in legend.But Aria knew the moment she saw it. “This is where she fell,” she whispered.Orion nodded. “And where she first rose again.”The entrance was not a door but a mirror. Fractured. Floating. Each shard reflected a different version of Aria. One with silver hair. One bleeding. One crowned. One burnin