LOGIN
Aria Hale woke up to the sound of bells.
They weren’t real bells—just the old wind chimes outside her bedroom window, clinking together in the morning breeze—but today they felt like a sign. Her eighteenth birthday. Mate day. The day the Moon Goddess would finally stop being a story and turn into a person with a heartbeat and a face.
Her mate.
She lay there for a moment, staring at the low wooden ceiling of the pack house, listening to the familiar sounds of the Thornridge Pack waking up. Footsteps in the hall. Voices drifting through thin walls. Someone laughing in the kitchen downstairs, the smell of coffee already thick in the air. Everything felt sharper, brighter, edged in a soft golden anticipation.
Today, she thought, pressing her palm against her thundering chest. Today everything changes.
“Aria! Get up already!” Her cousin Mia’s voice shot through the door, followed by a fist thumping twice on the wood. “If you’re late to your own ceremony, Aunt Lana is going to murder you and then resurrect you just to kill you again.”
Aria let out a shaky laugh and sat up. Her wolf, Lune, stirred restlessly inside her, pacing in her mind.
We’re ready, Lune whispered, her voice a cool ripple of silver through Aria’s thoughts. He’s close. I can feel it.
Aria’s cheeks warmed. You don’t even know who “he” is yet.
I don’t need to. The Moon Goddess promised. He’ll be ours.
Ours. The word tasted new.
She swung her legs out of bed and stood, padding barefoot across the cool wooden floor. The small mirror hanging on the wall caught her reflection: dark hair a little messy from sleep, olive skin, wide hazel eyes that always looked like they were trying to apologize for existing.
She studied herself, suddenly nervous. She wasn’t stunning like some of the other girls in the pack. No ice-blue eyes. No perfect model waist. She was… average. Soft. Too quiet. The kind of girl people forgot was in the room.
Would her mate like her?
“He’s made for you,” her mother had told her a hundred times. “He will see you in ways no one else ever did.”
Aria clung to that.
She washed quickly, heart beating faster with every small, ordinary movement. Toothbrush. Face wash. The simple white dress her mother had laid out the night before—it fell just above her knees, the fabric soft and flowing, cinched at the waist with a thin silver belt. A matching silver bracelet gleamed on the bedside table, decorated with tiny crescent moons.
From downstairs came the sound of chairs scraping and plates clinking. The pack house was probably a mess of people—betas, omegas, warriors, all stuffing their faces before the big event. Today wasn’t just about her. It was about the future Alpha, too.
Blake Thorn.
The name alone made Aria’s stomach twist in a complicated knot.
He’d been the center of the pack’s universe since they were kids. Tall, athletic, already carrying the kind of authority that made people straighten their spines when he walked into a room. The Alpha’s only son. The future. The boy who used to steal her crayons in kindergarten and then give them back with an awkward, guilty smile.
He’d grown into his power. He’d grown into his looks. And then somewhere along the way, he’d grown away from her.
Now, he barely looked at her at all.
It didn’t matter. He couldn’t be her mate. People like Blake were fated to strong female warriors or beautiful future lunas from neighboring packs—someone who could stand next to him without disappearing. Not Aria, the girl who always sat in the back row and made herself small.
Still, her chest tightened at the thought of him. Of the way his dark hair fell into his eyes when he trained. The way he laughed with his friends, carefree, like the weight of the world wasn’t already sitting on his shoulders.
Stop thinking about him, Lune huffed. Our mate might not even be from this pack. He might walk in today from somewhere else and sweep us away.
“That’s not helping,” Aria muttered under her breath as she slipped into the dress.
By the time she opened her bedroom door, Mia was leaning against the opposite wall, already dressed in a pale pink sundress, her curly hair pulled into a messy bun. She raised her brows dramatically.
“Finally,” Mia said. “You do realize you’re the main character today, right? You can’t show up late to your own destiny.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Aria mumbled, but she couldn’t stop the nervous smile tugging at her lips.
Mia fell into step beside her as they headed down the narrow stairs.
“So,” Mia said casually, “who do you think it’s going to be?”
Aria nearly tripped. “What?”
“Your mate, genius.” Mia nudged her with her elbow. “Come on, you must have a guessing list. Everyone does.”
“I don’t,” Aria lied.
Mia gave her a look that said you’re full of it.
“Fine,” Aria sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe someone from the Nightfall Pack? They’re attending tonight, right?”
“Mm-hmm,” Mia said thoughtfully. “They’ve got some cute warriors, actually. But personally, I’m voting for a mysterious rogue who turns out to be secretly royal. Or a prince. Or a prince-rogue. Something dramatic.”
“That sounds like one of your romance novels.”
“Exactly.” Mia swung the railing as they turned. “If the Moon Goddess has an ounce of taste, she’ll make your life interesting.”
Aria wanted to believe that. That the Goddess saw her. That her life, which had always felt like a quiet background track, might suddenly become a melody.
They stepped into the main hall of the pack house.
It had been transformed overnight—streamers in silver and midnight blue hung from the rafters, the Thornridge crest embroidered on banners along the walls. Long tables were covered with platters of food: eggs, pancakes, sausages, fresh bread, fruit. Wolves moved in and out, dressed a little nicer than usual, the air buzzing with conversation and excitement.
“Aria!” Her mother, Lana, appeared from the kitchen, cheeks flushed from running around. She wore a simple navy dress and had her dark hair braided back from her face. Worry and pride shone in her brown eyes as she rushed over. “You look beautiful.”
Aria’s throat tightened. “Thanks, Mom.”
Her mother adjusted the strap of her dress, fingertips trembling just slightly. “Remember, whatever happens today… you are enough. Your mate will feel it the second he sees you.”
Aria nodded, not trusting her voice.
“Eat something,” Lana added, forcing a smile. “The ceremony isn’t until tonight. You’ll faint if you don’t.”
“I’ll try.”
As her mother moved away to scold a warrior for stealing bread with his hands, Aria glanced instinctively toward the far end of the hall.
For a second, her heart stopped.
Blake was there.
He stood with a group of warriors near the wide glass doors that led out to the training fields. He wasn’t dressed for a ceremony yet—just black joggers, a fitted gray T-shirt that hugged his chest, sweat darkening the collar. He must’ve come straight from training; his hair was damp, sticking slightly to his forehead.
He looked… tired. Tense. Like the world was tugging on him from all directions and he was barely holding himself together.
As if feeling her gaze, he turned his head.
For a heartbeat, their eyes met across the hall.
Aria’s breath hitched. Her wolf rose eagerly, tail wagging in her mind. Is it him? Is it—
Blake broke eye contact first.
He looked away, saying something to his beta, Theo, who laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. Blake didn’t smile back.
The little hopeful spark in Aria’s chest fizzled.
Of course it’s not him, she told herself firmly. If he were her mate, wouldn’t he feel something? Wouldn’t there be a spark, or a pull, or at least a second look?
“Are you going to stare at him all day,” Mia muttered at her side, “or are you going to eat that pancake?”
Aria flushed and grabbed a plate just to have something to do with her hands.
“I wasn’t staring.”
“Sure,” Mia said dryly. “And I’m not going to spend the rest of today flirting with every single visiting warrior.”
“You really shouldn’t,” Aria said automatically.
Mia grinned. “I really, really should.”
They ate, or pretended to. Aria pushed her food around more than anything, her stomach a tight knot. People came up to congratulate her, to tease her, to say things like “You’ll probably end up mated to some handsome Alpha, just you wait,” and “Don’t worry, the Goddess always knows best.”
She smiled and nodded and said thank you, all while her mind spun.
The day blurred.
There were chores to help with—setting up lights outside, arranging chairs in the clearing, hanging lanterns in the trees. The sun crawled across the sky, slow and relentless. Wolves from neighboring packs arrived in sleek black SUVs, their scents unfamiliar and sharp.
By late afternoon, the clearing was ready: a wide circle ringed with tall pines, fairy lights strung overhead, the ground swept clean. A wooden platform stood at one end where the Alpha and his family would watch the ceremony.
Where Blake would stand.
Aria’s hands shook as she helped Mia place lanterns along the path.
“You okay?” Mia asked quietly.
“Fine,” Aria lied again.
Mia squeezed her wrist. “Hey. Whatever happens… I’m on your side. If your mate is ugly, we’ll run away. If he’s perfect and you love him, I’ll probably still complain about him on your behalf. It’s what cousins are for.”
A weak laugh escaped Aria. “Thanks.”
The sky deepened from blue to purple as the sun sank behind the trees. Music drifted from hidden speakers—a soft instrumental melody that wound through the Whispering Pines like a spell. People gathered in the clearing, dressed in their best clothes now, their faces expectant.
Aria returned to the pack house to change into her ceremony dress: a long, flowing gown of pale silver that shimmered like moonlight. Her mother fastened a delicate crescent-moon pendant around her throat with shaking fingers.
“You look like something the Goddess carved herself,” Lana whispered, tears in her eyes.
“Don’t cry,” Aria begged, her own eyes burning. “You’ll make me cry, and then my face will get red and weird.”
Her mother laughed wetly and kissed her forehead. “Go. Everyone’s waiting.”
Aria stepped out into the cool evening.
The air was crisp, scented with pine and earth and the faint sweetness of night-blooming flowers planted along the path. Wolves turned to look at her as she walked by. Some smiled kindly. Some looked curious. A few of the visiting warriors whispered to each other.
Her heart hammered.
Lune paced inside her, restless. He’s here, her wolf murmured. I know he is. I can feel the pull.
Aria swallowed hard.
The Alpha family was already on the platform when she reached the clearing. Alpha Rowan, broad-shouldered and stern, with streaks of silver at his temples. Luna Elise, elegant and sharp-eyed. And between them—
Blake.
Now he was dressed for the ceremony, in a dark suit that fit him far too well. The top buttons of his white shirt were undone, showing the edge of his collarbone. His hair had been pushed back from his forehead, still stubbornly falling into his eyes.
He didn’t look at her.
He was staring straight ahead, jaw clenched, as if bracing himself for something unpleasant.
Aria’s stomach dropped.
The Alpha stepped forward, raising his hands for silence. The murmurs died. The music faded to a low hum.
“Tonight,” Alpha Rowan said, his deep voice carrying easily through the clearing, “we gather under the Moon Goddess’s gaze to witness her will. Our young wolves come of age, their bonds to their wolves fully awakened. Tonight, some of them will meet the ones chosen for them before they were even born.”
A ripple of excitement moved through the crowd.
“Trust the bond,” Luna Elise added, her gaze sweeping over the assembled wolves. “The Goddess makes no mistakes.”
Aria tried to breathe.
Wolves began to move, drawn by invisible strings. Some walked toward others with stunned expressions, laughter bubbling from their lips. A girl from the Nightfall Pack gasped and launched herself into the arms of a Thornridge warrior, tears streaming down her face. Two boys from different packs stared at each other like the world had just tilted on its axis.
Mates.
The bond sparkled in the air like static, like the charged feeling before a storm. Aria could feel it brushing over her skin, making the hairs on her arms stand on end.
We’ll feel it, Lune whispered. When he’s close, we’ll know.
Aria stepped off the path and into the shifting crowd, heart slamming.
She walked slowly, letting her wolf guide her. Scents swirled around her—pine, rain, spice, smoke, unfamiliar colognes, the wild musk of fur and skin. Every step made her pulse drum louder in her ears.
Nothing.
She exhaled shakily and kept moving.
A tall warrior from a visiting pack smiled at her as she passed, his eyes scanning her face like he was checking for a sign. When he didn’t feel anything, the smile slid away. He turned toward someone else, already forgetting her.
The rejection was small, but it still stung.
Maybe our mate is late, Aria thought desperately. Maybe he’s still on his way. Maybe—
Her foot slipped on a patch of damp grass. She stumbled forward and collided with a solid chest.
Strong hands closed around her arms, steadying her.
“Careful,” a low voice said.
Aria looked up—and froze.
Blake.
For the first time all night, he was actually looking at her. Really looking at her, his storm-gray eyes locked onto hers. They were close enough that she could see the tiny scar on his jaw, the one he’d gotten when they were kids and fell out of a tree together. Close enough to feel the heat of his body, the quick rise and fall of his chest.
Her breath caught.
Time slowed.
Their gazes held, something heavy and electric stretching between them. Lune surged inside her, pushing forward with a wild, desperate joy.
Mate, her wolf snarled, the word exploding through Aria’s skull like thunder. Mate. Mate. Mate.
And then—
It hit her.
A scent, so sharp and intoxicating it punched the air from her lungs: pine smoke and winter rain, threaded with something dark and fierce that she had only ever associated with one person.
Blake.
Aria’s fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket.
The world narrowed to the smell of him, the feel of his hands on her arms, the way every cell in her body screamed yes.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
The Moon Goddess had chosen.
Blake Thorn was her mate.
The newborn realm breathed.It didn’t speak with words or roar with magic or tremble beneath the weight of old wounds. It simply existed—growing, settling, finding its rhythm the way a newborn chest finds its first steady breaths after the world welcomes it in.Aria walked along a river that had not been there a day before, though time didn’t behave the same here. The water shimmered in threads of gold and silver, flowing in soft spirals that reflected the sky above—a sky that still hadn’t chosen a color, instead wearing every shade of morning and night at once.Beside her, the child ran ahead—bare feet touching the ground without sound. Each step left behind a brief glow, like the realm smiled at every place the child touched.Its laughter carried across the water in bright, echoing tones. Not loud. Not overwhelming. Just… pure. A sound that made Aria’s heart expand in ways that frightened her with their depth.“Slow down,” she called gently.The child spun, both light and shadow swi
The envoys moved first.Light surged forward in a spear of gold, crashing against the newborn realm with the force of a star. Shadow followed in a collapsing wave, a tidal crush of darkness meant to smother everything in its path. The ground beneath Aria’s feet cracked outward in luminous fractures as the twin assaults converged.Erevan was faster.Shadows erupted from him in a violent arc, sweeping around Aria and the child like a fortress pulled from the night itself. He threw out a hand, and the darkness condensed into a wall—thick, trembling, groaning under the pressure of both realms pressing against it.“ARIA—GO!” he shouted, voice hoarse from strain.She didn’t move.The child clung to her waist, trembling, its bright-dark eyes wide with terror. Aria’s force roared to life, filling her veins with heat—light rising from deep inside her, brighter than it had ever burned. She stepped up beside Erevan, placed her hand over his on the barrier, and pushed.The realm answered.A shock
The crack in the horizon deepened with a low, resonant groan—like the sound of the world taking a breath it didn’t know how to release. The newborn realm trembled beneath Aria’s feet, not violently, but with a warning, a shiver of tension through the very fabric of what she and Erevan had created.Erevan reacted instantly.He pulled Aria behind him, one arm sweeping in front of her, the other curling back to keep the child close. His shadows unfurled in a sweeping arc, forming a wide protective barrier around the three of them.The child clung to Aria’s hand, its luminous eyes widening with instinctive fear. “They come,” it whispered—its voice trembling for the first time.Aria lowered herself to meet the child’s gaze. “Who’s coming? What do you feel?”The child lifted its free hand toward the horizon. “Light. Shadow. Both. They… want.”Erevan stiffened. “They want you.”A sharp pulse hit the realm. The sky—if it could be called a sky—split wider, revealing a blazing tear of gold on o
Aria couldn’t breathe.The small being—woven from light like dawn and shadow like midnight—stood at the base of the hill looking up at her with eyes too ancient and too newborn at the same time. Its voice still echoed through her ribs, soft but resonant, as if the realm itself had spoken through a child-shaped vessel.“Mother?”The word hollowed her.Erevan went utterly still beside her. Not stunned—struck. His shadows recoiled inward then flared outward in a protective ring around them, instinctively forming a barrier he wasn’t even aware of. She felt the panic ripple through him, not because he feared the being, but because he feared what it meant for her.“Aria,” he whispered hoarsely, gripping her wrist. “Stay behind me.”“No.” Her voice cracked—but not from fear. “Erevan… it’s not a threat.”He didn’t move. “It exists. That’s threat enough.”The being stepped closer—slowly, with the tentative steps of someone learning how feet work. As it moved, the surface of the realm rippled b
The moment Aria and Erevan crossed the threshold, the world folded inward like a closing petal—soft, silent, absolute. Warmth brushed over Aria’s skin, a gentle whisper of magic that felt like breath against her cheek, like hands smoothing the tension from her shoulders. Erevan’s grip never loosened; if anything, it tightened, his shadows curling protectively around her waist even as the light of the bridge swirled around them.Then—the fold released.And the new realm opened.Aria gasped.Erevan went still beside her.They stood on a vast expanse that wasn’t sky or land or void—but something between all three. The ground shimmered like glass, reflecting the colors of both realms: soft golds and deep silvers, pale blues and dark violets. Above them stretched a sky with no sun and no moon—only swirling ribbons of light and shadow that looped and braided through each other like living constellations.It felt alive.Breathing.Listening.Erevan let out a slow, shaky exhale. “It’s… beaut
The light of the newborn bridge slowly dimmed from blinding to radiant, settling into a steady thrum like the heartbeat of something newly alive. Aria’s breaths shuddered as the last of the magic drained from her fingertips, leaving them tingling. Erevan kept an arm around her waist, steadying her as though she might slip away if he let go even for a second.He wasn’t wrong to worry.Her legs trembled.Her vision flickered.Her chest felt both too full and too hollow.She had just shaped a new truth into existence.And creation was still settling around them.The ancestors remained bowed, their heads low, their auras dimmed in quiet acknowledgment. The Fractured watched from a cautious distance, as if afraid to disturb the new equilibrium forming across the plane.Erevan brushed a thumb under Aria’s eye, searching her expression. “How much did it take from you?”She swallowed. “Not take. Reshape.”“Aria—” His jaw tightened, shadows trembling at the edges. “That’s worse.”She summoned







