His Pack Falls Without Her Magic

For three months, I'd been preparing for the Blood Moon ceremony. Preparing to shield my mate, Alpha Damian, and his fragile pack from the spirits of the damned.

But then he stood before the pack and announced my replacement. His first love, Isla—the woman who left him for dead—would take my place as High Priestess.

Only yesterday, I was on my knees, pouring my soul into the wards for this ceremony.

"Lyra, these wards are a joke."

I looked up. Damian stood behind me, his face a mask of Alpha arrogance.

"What's wrong with them?" I dropped the runic chalk and stood.

The legendary Blood Moon was coming, a once-in-a-century event.

Without my wards, Damian’s pack wouldn't stand a chance.

He might be an Alpha, but he and his pack were the weakest in the North.

Half the time, they couldn't even fight off rogues, forced into one humiliating retreat after another.

This core ward would shield the entire Silver Moon pack from the spirits.

Every single rune was perfect.

"The energy flow is too strong," Damian said, pointing to the center of the array. His voice was sharp with impatience. "My people can't handle this kind of power. You treat us like one of the High Packs, Lyra, not the one you belong to."

I almost laughed.

If they couldn't handle this, they weren't just walking to their deaths.

They were sprinting.

"Damian, this is the bare minimum.

Any weaker, and your wards will be torn to shreds the second the Blood Moon rises."

"You never trust my judgment when it comes to my pack." He turned, his dark eyes filled with that familiar look of accusation. "You're always so stubborn, Lyra. You're getting out of control."

I bit back a retort.

Damian and I had been mated for ten years.

When I first met him, I was just a rogue wolf with a flicker of magic.

After feeling the fated bond between us, I slowly started showing him my power.

Power that was far greater than his.

I knew he wanted to be an Alpha, so I helped him rise.

I helped him lead his pack.

I traded my own power with stronger packs for the resources his people needed to survive.

The cost was staggering. And I paid every price.

Even though I hid my true identity.

As his Luna, I gave this pack everything.

I redrew their wards, repaired their energy nodes, and even used my own blood to strengthen their altar.

All of it was to make sure they received the Moon Goddess's greatest blessing. To make sure he and I would be happy forever.

But over the last year, he’d started acting strange, mocking me whenever I used my power.

"Fine." I knelt again and began to adjust the ward's energy density.

I knew this would weaken it, but at that moment, I was too tired to argue.

"We'll do it your way."

"One more thing," Damian's voice suddenly went stiff. "Isla is coming back."

My hand froze. "What?"

"She's going to assist with the ceremony. She's an expert in traditional shamanism. It will be a great help to us."

Isla.

The she-wolf who grew up with Damian, then abandoned him when things got tough.

The one with so-called "pure-blood magic."

I slowly stood up. "When did you decide this?"

"She wrote to me a month ago. I thought it was a great opportunity to make our ceremony perfect."

A month ago. He was telling me now, three days before the ceremony I had lost sleep over for three months.

"Damian, the preparations are done. Bringing someone new in now will throw the entire ritual off balance. It could be a disaster."

"It won't," he said, his tone firm. "Actually, I want Isla to be the High Priestess."

My blood ran cold. "What did you say?"

"Her connection is better for speaking with the Goddess. Your skills are needed for the outer defenses."

The High Priestess. The very heart of the ceremony.

The sacred position at the center of the altar, protected by the entire pack, who speaks directly to the Goddess.

That spot, as his Luna, was mine by right.

"You mean, you want me on outer defense?"

"The outer defense is critical," he said, refusing to meet my eyes. "The spirits are a real threat. We need our most powerful warrior out there."

I stared at him, at the man I once loved so deeply. "So I'm being demoted from High Priestess to… bait?"

"I'm trusting you with the most dangerous part," he said. The casual pride in his voice was a dull knife twisting in my heart.

Outer defense meant facing all the evil summoned by the Blood Moon. Alone.

He wanted me to use my life to buy time for the core ceremony.

If I weren't as powerful as I was, it would be a death sentence.

"You've already discussed this with your parents, haven't you?" I asked.

"They've agreed," Damian answered, so quickly it was like he'd rehearsed it. "They trust Isla's blood magic. It's our pack's tradition. Your magic… we don't know where it comes from."

Questionable origins?

I healed this polluted land, making life flow through it again.

I spent immense amounts of my magic to rebuild their sacred grounds.

And now, all of it was dismissed as "questionable."

Footsteps echoed from the stairs.

Damian's parents were coming down.

"Lyra," his mother, the elder Reina, said, her voice dripping with a condescending dislike. "This isn't a question of your abilities."

"But Isla's shamanic bloodline is the traditional power our pack recognizes," his father cut in, not bothering to hide his contempt. "Her magic can awaken the soul of the land and speak with our ancestors."

Awaken the soul of the land?

I poured my soul into this land!

"So," I looked at the three of them, my voice turning to ice. "You're making an outsider the High Priestess… and throwing your Luna to the wolves?"