34. Whispers Beneath The Moon Veil.

LUCY POV

The night felt heavier than usual, like the air itself knew something was wrong.

My father didn’t speak to me after we left the mansion. He walked ahead, back straight, the proud commander of the Council, while I followed close behind, my hands trembling inside my sleeves. The forest swallowed us quickly...the trees tall, old, and watching.

I hated how familiar this path felt.

I had only been to the Lunar Witch once before, when I was younger… before I understood what politics tasted like. Back then, I thought we came because I was “special.” Now I knew better.

We didn’t come because I was special.

We came because I was useful.

The witch’s home appeared slowly out of the trees, more grown than built....branches bending into arches, leaves forming windows, moonlight sliding through cracks like silver water. It was beautiful, but in a way that made your bones remember fear.

She was already outside.

Small.

Thin.

Barefoot.

Her hair long and white like frost.

Eyes pale....almost silver....seeing without looking.

She didn’t greet us.

She simply turned and walked inside.

My father stepped in confidently.

I hesitated. Because places like this knew truth, and truth was the last thing I was ready for.

But I went in anyway.

The inside smelled like rain and herbs. A bowl of still water sat in the center, glowing faintly under the moon that poured through the ceiling. The witch motioned to the seat in front of her.

“Sit, Lucy.”

She said my name gently. Too gently.

I sat, though my spine stayed tense.

My father stood behind me like a guard. Or a shadow.

The witch’s voice was calm. “You came for clarity.”

The words caught in my throat. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out at first.

Finally..... “I need to know why he rejects me.”

The witch studied me. Really studied me. Like she was peeling the skin off my heart.

“Your heart is not the problem,” she said softly. “Your strength is not the problem. Your blood is not the problem.”

I waited.

She didn’t look away from my eyes.

“His heart belongs to another.”

My vision blurred.

I don’t know if I breathed.

It felt like someone had set their hand inside my chest and pressed...slowly, steadily....until something snapped. I had prepared myself to hear many things.

But not that.

“Who?” My voice was barely a whisper.

The witch shook her head. “I cannot see her face. It is hidden.”

My father stepped forward sharply. “Hidden? How can anything be hidden from you?”

His tone was sharp....too sharp....and the witch’s expression did not change, but the air shifted. The lights dimmed. The leaves trembled like something moved through them.

“Some bonds,” she said, “are protected by forces older than wolves, older than the Council… older than your authority, Rowan.”

My father clenched his jaw.

My heart hammered.

Protected.

Older.

Which meant....

Real.

Not political. Not strategic. Not arranged.

Real.

I hated how much that hurt.

“Why is he hiding it then” I asked quickly. The question slipped out before I could stop it.

The witch paused.

Which was an answer all on its own.

Her voice softened. “The bond feels… unnatural. Dangerous. But true.”

Dangerous. Of course it was.

My father stepped in front of me, blocking my line of sight to the witch. “Enough. What matters is what can be done. What solution can you offer to fix this situation?”

Fix.

He used the word like I was broken.

The witch’s eyes shifted to him slowly. “This is not a situation. This is fate.”

“I did not ask for poetry,” he snapped.

“And I do not give commands,” she replied. “I speak truth.”

I swallowed, forcing myself to breathe. “Can the bond be… weakened? Replaced? Redirected?”

My father placed a hand on my shoulder....a silent shove to stop talking.

“No,” he said firmly. “What she means to ask is how you can assist us in ensuring the Alpha fulfills the ritual with Lucy. That is all.”

My chest burned.

He wasn’t asking for me.

He was asking for his plans.

The witch faced me....not him.

Her voice lowered. Soft. Heavy. Final.

“What you seek is not love. It is possession.”

My father tensed. “Watch your tone....”

She raised her hand....not toward him, not toward me.....but toward the air.

And suddenly, he could no longer speak.

His eyes widened in outrage, but no sound came out.

A single flicker of satisfaction sparked inside me.

The witch leaned closer to me. Only me.

“Look at me, child.”

I did.

“You have trained your entire life to become Luna,” she said. “You have earned your title through discipline, sacrifice, and blood. Your desire to lead is not wrong. Your pain is not foolish. Your love is not worthless.”

My throat tightened.

“But,” she continued, “you cannot build your future on a man whose heart kneels elsewhere.”

My eyes stung.

“But the Council.....”

“The Council,” she interrupted softly, “serves power. Your father serves ambition. You serve something else. Something deeper.”

My voice trembled. “And what is that?”

“Longing.” Her eyes did not move from mine. “And longing makes warriors into martyrs.”

I broke.

A tear slid down my cheek before I could stop it.

The witch reached out and brushed it away. ....not unkindly.

“You are not weak because you love him,” she whispered. “You are weak only when you forget to love yourself.”

For a moment, the world felt still.

Then my father found his voice again ....rough and furious.

“What can you do about my daughter’s matter?” he demanded, stepping between us again.

The witch drew back her hand. Her tone cooled.

“You want a spell. A forcing. A binding.”

He did not deny it.

I felt my stomach twist. Not shock. Just confirmation.

The witch looked at me again....not with pity, but with a question.

“Do you want his love because it is your destiny, or because it is what you were told to want?”

The silence in the room was deafening.

I opened my mouth.

But I did not know the answer.

Not anymore.

She sighed softly.....like she already knew.

“I can give you a choice,” she said. “Not a guarantee. Not a chain. A path.”

My breath caught.

“A path?” I repeated.

“Yes.” The witch nodded. “One where you learn who you are without the Council. Without your father. Without the throne you are being pushed into. Only then, you may learn whether what your heart wants is truly yours.”

My father scoffed. “That is useless.”

“It is the only thing that is real,” she replied calmly.

She placed something into my hand.

A small, smooth stone.

Moon-white. Warm.

I didn’t know what it meant.

But I closed my hand around it anyway.

The witch stepped back.

“The rest is yours to decide.”

I stood slowly.

My father grabbed my arm.

“We’re leaving,” he said through clenched teeth.

I pulled my arm out of his grasp.

Not roughly. Not violently.

Just… decisively.

We walked out together into the night.

But we were not walking toward the same future.

And for the first time since this all began....

I wasn’t afraid.