Chapter 2: What Was Real?

Aria’s POV

“That’s great news, Aria. You finally came to your senses.”

Mira’s voice crackled through the moonstone crystal. I pictured her easily. Curly hair, ink-stained fingers, eyes that always looked like they were chasing the next idea.

I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the blank wall where Lycus’s cloak usually hung.

“You’ve hidden long enough,” she said. “A Sigil Weaver of your skill, wasting away as a scribe in the Vane Hall? Pathetic.”

I gave a faint laugh. “I stayed because he asked me to.”

“Because he liked having you close,” she corrected. Then her tone softened. “Five years ago, after that rogue ambush, you saved him. You’ve paid enough.”

Her words dragged the memory to the surface. The healer’s hall, Lycus lying still, his pulse a thread. The spirit-walker’s cave high in the mountains. The seer had stared at me with clouded eyes.

“I can call his wolf back,” he’d said, “but I’ll need a spark from yours.”

I’d agreed without thinking. The ritual left me shaking and half-empty. My wolf’s essence had been poured into Lycus, leaving mine chained and silent ever since.

He’d woken days later. The pack called it a miracle. Only I knew the cost.

“You gave him your power and your craft,” Mira said. “And he hid you behind old Sundar’s name.”

I looked at my hands, the faint stains of blue sigil-ink still on my fingertips. “He said the council would question a young Weaver. That it was safer if I worked through Sundar.”

“He wanted the glory. You wanted his approval.” She exhaled. “Aria… what happened?”

The words left me before I could think it through. “He mated Sandra.”

The line went silent. Then, quietly, “Of course he did.”

Her voice steadied. “Then leave. The Grant Alliance still wants you. They’re begging for ward-builders who can strengthen their borders. With your skill, you’ll lead circles, not hide in someone else’s shadow.”

Her faith loosened something inside me. “I’ll go to the border hall tomorrow,” I said. “Sort the writ as soon as I can.”

“I’ll be waiting on the other side,” she promised. “Don’t change your mind.”

When the crystal dimmed, I just sat there, listening to the rain.

The wind battered the shutters; the little charm by the window, a wind chime made of prayer knots and carved bones, clattered restlessly.

I had tied those knots every night while Lycus hovered between life and death, whispering the same plea: “Wake up please.”

After he recovered, he’d strung them together himself. “So we don’t forget,” he’d said.

Now, watching them shake in the storm, I felt sick. I reached up to take them down, but my elbow brushed a shelf. A wooden frame slipped and cracked against the floor.

I bent to pick it up. The glass had split, revealing two paintings inside.

The first was of Lycus and me beneath the old pine, the night he’d first asked to court me. His arm around my shoulders, my eyes red from laughing.

The second stopped my breath. Sandra and Lycus. Her smile bright, his gaze tender.

On the back, a small carved rune marked the time: third bell after midnight, the night he’d woken. Exactly seven hours before he brought me wildflowers and promised to make me his mate “when the time was right.”

I stared until the image blurred. I had only been the consolation.

I tore the wind chime from its hook; the strings snapped and scattered across the floor like dead roots.

The crystal on the table pulsed twice. I wiped my face and lifted it.

‘To Aria Thorn,

You are invited to join the Wardens’ Training Circle under the Grant Alliance. Present your travel writ within ten days. May the Moon guide you.’

It was official now.

I closed my fingers around the stone until the light dimmed, then grabbed my cloak and stepped into the rain.

The path to the border hall was slick with mud. Wolves hurried past beneath their hoods. By the time I reached the stone building, my boots were soaked through.

Inside, the air smelled of wet fur and parchment. I handed my documents to the clerk.

He scanned the seals. “Your travel writ will take ten days.”

“Thank you,” I said.

My crystal buzzed once more.

“Aria,” Lycus’s voice came brisk and cold. “Something urgent at the western patrol. I won’t return tonight.”

Before I could reply, the link snapped shut. I stared at the crystal and almost laughed. Of course, he wouldn’t be home.

It pulsed again, Sandra.

I hesitated, then released a trickle of energy. Light rose above the stone, forming an image.

She stood beside Lycus at the Moon Shrine, their wrists bound with a silver vow-band glowing in the moonlight. When the band sealed, he kissed her. The image froze there, with his hand on her cheek, her smile triumphant. The mark in the corner read: last night.

A second image appeared. Sandra sat in an ornate chamber, holding up a pendant. A wolf’s head beneath a crescent moon. The Vane crest, passed from Alpha to Luna for generations.

“Recognize this?” she asked sweetly. “It’s the real crest. The one his grandfather wore. The one his father gave his mother when he claimed her.”

My hand went to my neck. The pendant Lycus had given me was exactly like that.

Sandra laughed. “Yours is just a copy. A toy to keep you quiet while the real heirloom waited for me.”

Her eyes glinted. “Lycus is my bound mate now. Stay away, or I’ll remind you what that basement felt like.”

The image resurfaced. For a moment, I couldn’t move. The cellar, the lash, and the darkness.

I steadied my voice and sent a single message back: “Don’t worry. I have no interest in being the other woman.”

Then I blocked her signature.

When Lycus bound himself to her, our path ended.

In ten days, I would be gone.

I slipped the crystal into my cloak and climbed the narrow stairs to the keep’s small market.

“Any spare crates?” I asked the shopkeeper.

He pointed toward a stack. “Take what you need, Aria.”

I carried three boxes upstairs, my arms burning. Then I began packing everything he’d ever given me. Cloaks, trinkets, books, weapons. I kept aside only the enchanted pieces. The rest went into the crates without hesitation.

When I hauled them to the refuse pit and tipped them in, the moon was high. My muscles ached, but I didn’t look back.

Too tired to cry, I washed quickly, pulled on a plain nightshirt, and went to sleep.

When morning light crept across the floor, my body was heavy, but my mind was clear. I gathered the few valuable items. The enchanted bracelets, rings, and the false crest pendant and wrapped them in cloth.

At the Iron Vault, a neutral strongroom shared among packs, I handed the bundle to the clerk.

“In ten days, if Lycus Vane comes, give him this key,” I said. “They’re his.”

The clerk nodded, wide-eyed. “Of course, Miss Thorn.”

I signed the ledger and left, lighter than before.

Back home, I began packing again, clothes, inks, brushes, and my old folio of sigil drafts. My work. My future. The part of me that still belonged entirely to myself.

The door opened. I didn’t need to turn.

Lycus’s scent filled the air. He stepped inside.

“Did something go missing?”

“I cleared out old things,” I said.

“Good. If you want new ones, tell me. I’ll have them delivered.”

He tossed his cloak on the couch, loosening his wrist guards. His gaze drifted to the table near the window and stopped on the rolled parchment. It was the Devotion ward pattern, the design I’d spent months perfecting.

“The launch for the Devotion ward set is tomorrow,” he said. “You should come.”

For three years, I’d crafted the sigils for every unveiling, hidden behind Master Sundar’s name. He’d never invited me before. Guilt made him speak now.

“Alright,” I said evenly. “I’ll go.”

The crystal on the bed buzzed again, its runes glowing with an unfamiliar code.

Lycus frowned. “Why are you getting calls from outside our territory?”