ANMELDENNote: This is a single-volume epic featuring four interconnected stories that converge into one final, inevitable conclusion. Ersa Soltharic thought she could stay hidden and live a quiet life, but fate had other plans. Chosen as a candidate for the Second Calling, she must compete against three other women to become the Alpha’s Luna. The trials test her strength, mind, and heart, but the greatest shock comes when she discovers that the Alpha she’s fighting for is actually her destined mate. Worse, the Alpha is a natural predator whose practiced charm blinded Ersa, rendering his true nature entirely incomprehensible to her.
Mehr anzeigenErsa
“Open your mouth, Ersa.” His voice was low, commanding, leaving no room for hesitation. I parted my lips, granting him the access he sought, unable to defy him even if I wanted to.
How had I ended up here, caught in a moment I never imagined for myself?
I’d always been a pushover. Not out of kindness, but because I hated the thought of disappointing anyone. Maybe I was just a people pleaser. Or maybe a coward who avoided conflict at all costs.
But really, how could a werewolf act like such a puppy?
“I really like him, Ersa.”
“I know.” I gave her a small smile, the kind that felt more like surrender than comfort. Was it my turn again, to step aside? I liked Conan too, but were my feelings strong enough to risk our friendship? The answer was obvious.
“Then...if he chooses you tonight, would you reject him?” she asked, her eyes wide and innocent, as if her question wasn’t cruel at all.
I hesitated, then shook my head. “I can’t do that. Not in front of the pack.”
Her expression shifted, and for the first time, I realized how easily she could cast me as the villain in her story.
I wasn’t naive. I knew what we had wasn’t real friendship. Denise gained something by staying close to me, nothing more.
Was it stupidity, letting her use me for her own gain? No. Stupidity would be fighting back and thinking I could win. This… this was strategy.
Because Denise wasn’t just trouble—she was a storm given flesh. And if you stood in her path, she didn’t pass by… she tore through.
“But…” I drew in a breath, steadying my resolve. “What I can do is not show up at the Calling.”
The Bondfire Calling. Unlike other packs, ours still honors the day of choosing, born from the first bond between Beta Gaven and the Dew Goddess Herse, who once walked among us in disguise. They were the first true mates.
Herse gave up eternity to live as a wolf, trading divinity for a mortal life at Gaven’s side. That’s the kind of bond I’ve always dreamed of, one worth sacrificing everything for.
“You’ll do that? For me?” Deni’s eyes sparkled with wonder, but I knew better. What she really wanted was for me to disappear from the picture completely.
“Yes. Anything for a friend,” I said, forcing a smile as I nodded.
Conan… he was no ordinary he-wolf. Stronger than most Betas, with looks people often claimed rivaled the Alpha himself, though I had never met the Alpha to know for sure. To me, he was more than strength or beauty. He was my childhood friend, the boy I had once promised to marry.
But promises meant little when weighed against tradition. Pairings could only be made during the Calling.
And if I wasn’t there, it would mean a lifetime of being alone. For she-wolves, the age of twenty-one brought only one chance. One night to be chosen, or to be left behind forever.
“But… that would mean you’ll be alone.” Deni tilted her head, her voice lined with concern, though I knew better. She acted as if she cared, but her eyes gave her away.
“It doesn’t bother me to be alone.”
The truth was, I had always been alone. I never knew my parents. All I had was the story Aunt Vesy, Conan’s mother, used to tell me. She said my parents were descendants of Erza, the daughter of Beta Gaven himself. It was Erza who whispered to her in a dream, begging her to protect her bloodline.
But if Erza truly watched over me, why had she never whispered to me?
Later, when I grew old enough, I left Conan’s home so I wouldn’t trouble his family any longer. They were already a big family.
“Alright then, if you say so.” Deni’s smile brightened as if I had just handed her a gift. “I better prepare for the Calling. Promise me you won’t show up.”
She waved cheerfully, almost skipping as she left me sitting beneath the Dew Pine Tree, while I stayed behind, swallowing the ache of a promise that might cost me everything.
I reached out and touched one of its leaves. The dew clung there as it always did, droplets that never seemed to fade. They were said to be the Goddess Herse’s gift to our pack, a symbol of her sacrifice, a promise of new beginnings.
“Is there truly no one for me, Goddess?” I whispered, brushing a droplet onto my fingertip. It slipped away almost instantly, rolling back to its place on the leaf, as if it belonged there more than it ever would with me.
Night fell, but still I remained beneath the towering tree. My eyes lifted to the pale glow of the moon, the underworld’s lantern, cold and distant.
“It’s almost the end,” I murmured, my voice catching in the quiet. The Calling was drawing near. And with it, my fate.
“Are you Ersa Soltharic?”
The sudden voice in the darkness jolted me to my feet. When the speaker stepped into the wash of moonlight, my breath caught. The Beta.
“H-how may I help you, Beta?” I stammered, bowing quickly out of respect.
His expression was unreadable as he spoke. “Because of your absence at the Bondfire Calling, you are to join three other women in the Second Calling.”
My heart dropped. I froze, shaking my head as the words sank in. No. This couldn’t be happening.
The Second Calling. To others, it was a great honor, the chance to be chosen as the pack’s Luna. The Alpha alone had the authority to call for it.
But to me, it wasn’t a ceremony. It was a contest. A brutal test to see which she-wolf could outshine the rest—in beauty, in skill, in leadership, and even in the most intimate of performances.
“No,” I whispered, backing away.
EverineThe silence from the surrounding warriors was heavy, a weight that made the heat in my cheeks feel like an actual burn. I had been humiliated. Not just defeated, but stripped—literally and figuratively—of my composure.Gavriel did not gloat with words, at least not initially. Instead, he began to unbutton his charcoal-colored long-sleeve shirt. His movements were slow, as if he wanted everyone to witness the perfectly sculpted muscle beneath the fabric. He stepped toward me, his shadow falling over my frame, and draped the shirt over my shoulders.The scent hit me immediately. It was an infuriatingly pleasant scent. For a split second, the warmth of the garment was a relief, but then the reality of the gesture caught up with me.My rage spiked. I reached up, tore the shirt from my shoulders, and hurled it into the dirt along with my sword. I didn't care about the skin I was showing; I cared about the insult."Women are not suitable as vanguards?" I asked, my voice trembling wi
EverineMy eye twitched—a minor, involuntary betrayal of my composure that infuriated me almost as much as the man causing it.Gavriel Soltharic was, by all objective measures, more handsome than anyone had a right to be. It was a biological offensive. I tried to perform a mental recalibration, forcing myself to remember that the true essence of the creature standing before me was that of a small, vanishing child. I tried to project that image onto him, to see a toddler in oversized armor, but failed miserably.The man standing in front of me was a perfect specimen of masculinity, and he knew it."The one who draws first blood, wins," I stated. My voice was level, carrying the cold authority of a Thorne who had spent years mastering the art of the duel.Beside me, Ersa let out a sharp, audible gasp. She knew I wasn't indulging in a mere exercise. I was serious."It does not matter if that blood comes from a shallow graze or an amputated limb," I added, my gaze never wavering from his
EverineErsa actually chuckled as I stood there, a mud-stained disaster in what had once been very expensive silk. The damp soil was already drying into a crust against my skin, making every movement feel grit-filled and uncomfortable.“Well, he can be quite a lot to handle,” she remarked, her voice dripping with that irritatingly calm empathy.“Quite?” I hissed, wiping a streak of filth from my cheek with the back of my hand. “If I encounter that geriatric phantom again, I shall ensure his next millennium is spent in a state of perpetual irritation. He is a child with the temperament of a senile vulture.”I did not wait for her reply. I marched back into the mansion, my boots squelching with every movement. I spent the next hour submerged in a bath hot enough to simmer a roast, scrubbed until my skin was raw, and emerged feeling somewhat less like a swamp creature and more like a Thorne.With the War Council still closed to me—an intellectual travesty I have yet to forgive—and no oth
EverineFor a full week, I have performed the role of the dutiful, intellectual assistant to Ersa with a level of patience that frankly deserves its own commemorative plaque. I have offered my insights on logistics, scrutinized the supply chains for the upcoming march, and provided tactical commentary whenever the opportunity presented itself. However, the reality of my new, crownless status remains a bitter pill to swallow. I am barred from the War Council.Apparently, the strategic discussions regarding the impending celestial slaughter are reserved exclusively for the Alphas and their Lunas. I am forced to remain on the periphery, an intellectual individual relegated to the role of a highly overqualified secretary. It is an insult to my capabilities, but I have managed to maintain my composure—mostly by redirecting my frustrations into the training grounds.As much as my schedule allows, I have been training with the pack members and their warriors. I find that the weight of a blad












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