Chapter 2 – Into the Silence

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 now it was dead weight. She would not be branded by a man who no longer fought for her.

She found a quiet clearing near the base of the cliff and built a fire, using her dagger to slice kindling from fallen branches. The motion steadied her. Kept her from collapsing beneath the emotions she refused to name.

Her mind kept replaying the moment she left. Kaelen’s eyes. Serenya’s silent, unreadable expression. The Elders’ stunned silence.

They didn’t stop her.

Not one of them had stopped her.

They had watched her walk away, the same woman who’d bled for their borders, protected their pups, mourned their dead, and stood in place of an absent Alpha. And still, they let her go.

No.

They chose to let her go.

It was then, as the fire crackled and dusk began to settle, that she felt it, the shift. A soft tugging in the air. Like something ancient had stirred and was looking her way. She rose, hand on her blade, senses sharp.

Something moved in the trees.

“Who's there?” she called.

Silence.Then, a low growl.

Her wolf surged. A rogue? A scout?

She drew her dagger and turned slowly. From the shadows emerged not one, but two wolves, tall, lean, their eyes feral and hungry. Definitely rogues. They circled the clearing, lips curled in mockery.

“Well, well,” one of them rasped as he shifted partially, face half-human, half-beast. “A lone she-wolf. Looks like our luck changed tonight.”

Aria didn’t flinch.

“I don’t want trouble,” she said, steady.

“You are the trouble,” the second growled, grinning. “Nightwind royalty, from the scent of you.”

The first one sniffed the air. “Mate-marked. Or… was. Poor little Luna abandoned by her king?”

The fire behind her crackled louder, its light dancing in her eyes.

“Come closer,” Aria said, lifting her blade. “I’ll show you what an abandoned Luna can do.”

They lunged.

She moved faster.

The first one barely got within striking range before she ducked, slashing his thigh clean open. He howled and fell to one knee. The second came from the side, smarter, faster, but Aria had trained with the elite. She rolled low, catching him in the ribs with the hilt, then spun into a high arc, slicing just beneath his collarbone.

Blood splashed the dirt.

They backed off, snarling now , not with mockery, but rage.

And fear.

“You’ll regret that,” one hissed. “You’re alone.”

“No,” Aria said, voice cold as frost. “I’m free.”

She shifted fully then, her wolf bursting from her skin in a shimmer of silver light. She wasn’t the biggest wolf, nor the most ferocious, but she was precise, calculated, deadly.

The rogues fled.

She didn’t chase them.

Not because she couldn’t, but because they weren’t worth the energy. Not yet. Not tonight.

She returned to her human form, blood trickling from a shallow cut across her cheek. The firelight flickered across her skin as she sat again, breathing hard, heart pounding.

But she wasn’t shaken.

She was awakening.

Later that night, under the moon’s watchful eye, Aria dreamt.

She stood in the sacred glade again, but the trees were burning. Ash swirled in the wind. The earth beneath her feet cracked open, revealing a glowing mark, not Kaelen’s, not the pack’s. Something older.

A voice spoke.

“She who burns, rises. And what rises, cannot be bound again.”

She looked down at her hands, they were glowing.

And she wasn’t alone.

The same strange man from the glade stood beside her.

“You are more than what they named you,” he said. “But to become it… you must lose everything.”

When she woke, her skin was hot, the mark on her shoulder searing with energy.

And a single thought echoed in her mind:

"I was never just his Luna."

The next morning, Aria broke camp and headed north, toward the Moonspire Mountains, a place of ancient magic and dangerous solitude. Few dared to live there, but she had heard whispers over the years of an outcast seer who knew of prophecy and power, and who trained only the truly broken.

If anyone could help her understand what was happening, what she was becoming,  it was him.

She walked for two days straight, sleeping little, surviving on foraged roots and melted snow. Her body was bruised, her mind sharp. Every step away from Nightwind felt like she was shedding a skin that never truly fit.

On the third morning, she reached the foot of the mountain. The wind howled through the peaks like wolves mourning the dead.

And then, a figure appeared on the ridge above her.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Cloaked in black.

He watched her without speaking, eyes unreadable beneath his hood.

“Are you the seer?” she asked, voice carrying over the wind.

“No,” the man said. “I’m the guardian.”

“Of what?”

“Of those who are ready to become.”

She frowned. “Become what?”

He smiled faintly. “You’ll find out… if you survive the climb.”

He vanished into the mist.

By the time Aria reached the first plateau, her hands were numb and her legs trembling. The path was treacherous, crumbling stone, sharp winds, sheer drops. But she didn’t stop.

Couldn’t stop. Because every time she faltered, she remembered Kaelen’s voice saying,

“Nothing has to change.”

And she remembered the way he looked at Serenya.

And she remembered the way the Elders stayed silent.

And she knew, this pain was nothing compared to the one she’d already survived.

She reached the summit as the sun dipped below the mountains, casting everything in blood-red light.

And there, at the very top, stood a crumbling temple, ancient, silent, waiting.

As she stepped inside, the air shimmered, and a deep, resonant voice greeted her.

“Welcome, child of ash.”

She froze. “I’ve been expecting you.”