Talia's POV
But it's hard. So dmn hard. And as much as I try to convince myself that I don't care what they think, a part of me does. A part of me wants to be accepted. A part of me wants to have what they have - a place in the Pack, a sense of purpose, and, most of all, a wolf to call my own. But that's not my reality. Eventually, I force myself to get up, brushing the dirt from my jeans. I can't stay out here forever, much as I'd like to. The day is only just beginning, and there are still preparations for tonight - a gathering I'd much rather avoid but one I know I have no choice but to attend. With one last look at the trees, I head back toward the pack, straight to the grocery store, pick some and go back home. On my return, I see the house is already busy with activity. My mother is in full-on preparation mode, flitting about the kitchen as she oversees the final touches for tonight's feast. My father is polishing his boots by the fireplace, while Jackson lays out on the couch, scrolling through his phone with the kind of boredom only a teenager can comprehend. "Talia, there you are!" Mom exclaims, spotting me as I walk through the door. "I was starting to worry you'd decided to skip tonight." "Tempting," I mutter, but I manage a smile as I walk into the kitchen. "I'm here, aren't I?" She gives me a sympathetic look, pausing mid-stare over a stew pot. "I know these gatherings aren't your favourite, sweetie, but the pack needs to see you there." "Yeah, I wouldn't want to deprive them of their favourite punching bag," I say with a wry grin, but the humour feels hollow, even to me. Mom frowns, she sets the spoon down and wipes her hands on her apron. "That's not true, Talia. Whether they realise it or not, you're part of this pack," "I don't feel like it most days," I admit, resting on the counter. I can see the concern on her face and the way her eyes soften when she looks at me. Dad clears his throat, setting his boots aside and standing up. "Your mother's right. Tonight is about more than just the feast. It's about showing the neighbouring Packs that we're strong and united. And that includes you, Talia." I look between them, they do have their way of calming my nerves, and here they are at it again. They want me to be strong, to show the pack that I belong, but how can I do that when I don't even believe it myself? "I'll be there," I say finally. "But I'm not making any promises about enjoying it." Jackson snickers from the couch. "Who enjoys these things, anyway? It's all just an excuse for everyone to show off." "Watch it, Jackson," Dad warns, though he has a smile on his face. "This is important, and we're all going to put on our best faces tonight. Understood?" Jackson rolls his eyes but nods, returning to his phone with a sigh. "Yeah, yeah, I got it." The gathering is just hours away, and the thoughts of facing the entire pack, of standing there with their eyes on me, fill me with a sense of fear that's hard to stop. Mom must sense it, too, because she steps closer, touching my shoulder. "You'll be okay, Talia. Just be yourself. You've got more strength in you than you realise." I nod, not trusting myself to speak. I'm expected to be comforted by her words, but it only makes me more aware of the gap between who I am and who I'm supposed to be. I help Mum with the final preparations, chopping vegetables and setting the table while trying to keep my mind from the worst scenarios I experience daily. The hours slip by too quickly; before I know it, "Time to get ready," Dad announces, looking at the clock. I sigh aloud and return to my room. The dress I've picked for tonight hangs on the back of my door, a simple black gown that I hope will help me blend in rather than stand out. I change quickly, avoiding the mirror as much as possible, I don't want to dwell on how the fabric clings to my curves or how out of place it looks. I'll look odd among the other girls, with their athletic bodies and perfect hair as always. As I finish getting dressed, there's a knock on my door. I turn to see Jackson resting on the door frame, his usual smirk replaced by a serious look. "Hey," he says, "You okay?" "Yeah," I reply, forcing a smile. "Just, you know... nervous." He nods, stepping into the room and shoving his hands into his pocket. "Look, I know I give teases too, but...trust me, you'll be fine, Talia. Just ignore those idiots. They don't know what they're talking about." I'm surprised at his words, and I feel a warmth spread through my chest. This is a rare moment of connection between us. "Thanks, Jackson. That means a lot." He shrugs, trying to play it off as no big deal. "Yeah, well, don't get used to it. I've got a reputation to maintain." I laugh, easing my tension a bit. "Of course." But as he turns to leave, a thought hits me, Jackson, wait." I called He pauses, looking back at me with a raised eyebrow. "What is it?" I swallow hard; I'm unsure what I want his answers to be. "How do I look?" Jackson's expression changes, and he looks genuinely uncomfortable. "No," he says slowly, avoiding my gaze. No, you don't wanna hear my opinion. But Talia... what will be will be okay?" he says before turning to leave. My heart beats loudly, Before he can take a step, a voice from downstairs rings. "Talia, Jackson! Time to go!" Jackson gives me one last look. "You'll be fine..., okay?" he says before turning and heading down the stairs, leaving me alone with my thoughts."How long do we kneel for?" Bran whispers under his breath, his voice low and unsure.Talia glances sideways at him, her expression calm but firm as she answers softly, "As long as it takes for this ritual to be over."Bran sighs, though a small smile plays at the corner of his mouth, and around them, the Sacred Valley holds a silence that speaks not of tension but of peace, where the wind moves gently through the grass and moonflowers bloom across the hill where many once fell.Now, they kneel before the Circle of Elders—not the old council formed by age and tradition but a new one, chosen from every tribe, from every surviving path, selected not for how long they have lived but for the depth of their wisdom and the truth in their eyesThe Old Keeper stands in front of them, raising his staff high as his robe catches the morning light, the fabric shimmering with memory and meaning as he nods once, slowly and solemnly"Let it be marked," he says, his voice steady and loud enough to ec
"I'm pretty sure we haven't lost the way. Or have we?" Talia questions the Old Keeper with an uncertain voice.The Old Keeper doesn’t stop walking. He taps his staff against the root of the trees as they walk, leading them deeper into the Sacred Valley. "Yes. Only one path leads to where she is, so it is not possible to miss the way. It remembers the steps of all the chosen Moon Stone Keepers because each of them must walk through it, either physically or in a trance. And it has yours marked too."Talia tightens the cloak around her shoulders. The trees look older than any she’s seen. Their branches twist like hands reaching for something they lost. The air smells of moss and memory. Stones line the path with faded symbols of names long forgotten. Names she will now carry.They walk for a long time in silence. At last, they stop in front of a wall of hanging vines. Hidden beneath is an old iron door, cold and rough to the touch.The Old Keeper reaches forward and presses a mark etched
Author's Narration"Are you sure you can do this? You know you can rest and not be here right? I'll understand."Bran stands beside Talia, the light wind brushing against his hair. "I am. The healers did their job. I'm not at full strength yet, but I can stand next to you and that's enough."Talia nods, relief in her eyes. Around them, the camp is alive with movement. The celebration has begun. Banners wave in the sky, and music floats through the air. Fires are lit, and the scent of cooked meats, herbs, and sweet roots fills the air.Warriors from neighbouring packs arrive in groups, some riding horses, others walking in strong formations. They come bearing gifts—weapons, rare fruits, cloth dyed in moon colours. Each of them waits in turn to kneel before Talia, now recognized across the land as the true Keeper.Some bring scrolls, asking for her mark of protection. Others come with stories—wolves lost to darkness, children born with strange powers, dreams of old gods whispering again
Author's Narration"He is not dead," Marlik's locked strange creature hisses.Its voice crawls through the silence like a wet cloth on stone. It sounds cold and hungry.Its shape begins to form in the smoke, tall and ragged, eyes glowing like fire. The ground behind the altar cracks open. The sacred circle bends unnaturally. A dark hand rises from the hole, fingers long and burnt-looking.The creature pulls itself out from the shadow underworld.Its body smells of ash and rot. A smell that doesn't belong to any living thing. It moves with a slow pull, dragging behind it a heavy chain of lightless stone."You promised," it says again. "Her soul belongs to me."Marlik, lying broken beside Bella's body, groans.The creature reaches out. One tendril of dark fog wraps around Marlik's chest. Marlik gasps as the magic forces him upright. His cloak flutters as though the wind has returned only for him."You will stand," the creature growls. "And you will deliver what you owe."Marlik stands.
Author's NarrationThe light of dawn spreads across the field. Everywhere is almost too quiet—no singing of birds, and the wind feels very heavy. The final rite is finally here.Talia stands at the edge of Moonfield, dressed in the ceremonial robe of the Keeper. The fabric is old but full of meaning, passed down through generations. Bran stands beside her, helping fasten her special necklace around her neck—the one Merle gave her for protection.All around them, the warriors of the Starlight Pack stand at attention in a wide circle. They are silent, their eyes focused on the hilltop where the ritual will happen. Kaelith, the high priestess, leads the Moon Priestesses to their positions. Everything is ready.Talia takes a step forward, and the Moonstone around her neck pulses with a warm, steady light. She can feel Tiara—her wolf, turning ancient spirit inside her—stirring, growing stronger. Every step she takes toward the hill feels heavier.Bran gives her a silent nod of support. Tog
"Are you sure about this?" the young guard whispers as he stands outside the cell, keys shaking in his hand. After days of trying to strengthen the spell she saw crafted on the prison walls she couldn't. The spells just keep getting weaker. Then she had to resolve to convince a guard who looked like he felt pity for her.Greta nods from the shadows, her face pale and marked by days of silence and hunger. "You want to live, don't you? Do you think the Pack will keep you safe once this is over? They won't. After the rites, they plan to wipe every Misfit wolf out and move on with the Pack shifters."Soren shifts his feet. He looks down the hallway, then back at her. "I—I just... if anyone finds out I helped you...""They won't," she cuts in quickly. "I'll be gone before the sun rises. And when Marlik wins, you won't be a nobody anymore. You'll be the man who helped him from inside the enemy's prison."The words settle in the boy's mind. He doesn't speak at first, and then he finally move