Chapter Five: A Stranger To Herself

The walls of her chamber became her prison.

For days, Aria did not step outside. Not into the corridors that once rang with the sound of her training. Not into the open courtyards where sparring partners had once bowed to her in respect. Not even into the forest where moonlight had once wrapped her like a blanket of safety, whispering to her that she belonged beneath its glow.

Now, she belonged nowhere.

She stayed curled beneath her sheets, staring at nothing, letting silence gnaw at her until it hollowed her from the inside out. Time lost all meaning day and night blurring until she could no longer tell which bled into which.

Elora tried.

Sometimes she slipped in quietly, her arms cradling a tray of food bread gone stiff, broth steaming faintly, fruit cut into careful slices. “Aria,” she would plead, her voice trembling, “just a little. Please, for me.”

Most times, Aria turned her face away. Her throat felt too tight to swallow. Her stomach twisted with sickness and grief.

Only when Elora’s voice broke when she whispered, “Don’t fade from me too, Aria. Please” did Aria force something past her lips. A bite. A sip. Then nothing more.

The rest of the time, she wasted away. Drifting between shallow, restless sleep and endless thoughts that bled her dry.

I am no Alpha’s daughter. I am no heir. I am nothing.

Every time her mind replayed Mason’s words You are no daughter of mine the sound cut deeper, a fresh wound layered over scars that had barely begun to heal.

She pressed her hand to her stomach, trembling. Even the tiny flicker of life inside her felt less like a miracle and more like a chain, dragging her into a darkness she could not escape.

Sometimes she wondered if even her wolf pitied her now.

On the fourth morning, something inside her cracked.

She dragged herself out of bed, her limbs trembling, weak from days of neglect. Her face was pale and gaunt, her lips cracked, her hair tangled in unkempt strands that clung to her damp cheeks. Her hands shook as she splashed cold water on her face, staring at the stranger in the looking glass.

Eyes red and swollen. Skin ghostly. Crest glowing faintly at her wrist, mocking her.

This cannot be me.

Still, she could no longer remain hidden. To wallow in silence was to suffocate. To stay in bed was to let the whispers win before she had even faced them.

Her wolf stirred faintly, whispering, Stand. Walk. Face them.

So she obeyed.

When she stepped into the courtyard, the world greeted her not with warmth but with knives.

Whispers slashed through the air the moment she appeared.

“There she is.”

“The bastard still lives among us.”

“She should be ashamed.”

“Look at her still walking as though she’s the heir.”

Every word sank claws into her flesh.

Men who once bowed their heads now turned their backs, refusing to meet her eyes. Mothers pulled their children close, shielding them with harsh glances, as though Aria herself carried a curse that could pass with a glance. Warriors who had once trained her who had once praised her skill now studied her like she was a disease waiting to spread.

Her knees nearly gave out beneath her. Her throat tightened until breathing hurt.

Don’t cry. Don’t let them see you break.

But the venom of their whispers followed her like shadows, tearing what little strength she had left. Even her wolf growled inside her, restless and protective, but powerless to shield her from the sting of betrayal.

Jaw clenched, Aria forced herself forward. Each step felt like dragging chains, each breath like swallowing glass. But she refused to turn back.

There was only one place she could go. Only one man who owed her the truth.

If Mason was right if she truly was not his blood then she needed to hear everything. No more whispers. No more secrets gnawing her to pieces.

She would know who she was, or she would never stop breaking.

The guards at the Alpha’s hall stiffened when she approached.

Once, they had greeted her with pride, their heads bowed deeply to the Luna-to-be. Now, their bows were shallow, almost begrudging, their eyes averted not from respect but from shame.

Still, they parted for her, opening the heavy oak doors.

Inside, Alpha Mason sat at the long table, scrolls and parchments scattered before him. He did not rise at her entry. He did not soften. His eyes once her anchor, once her warmth lifted to meet hers, and they were stone.

Once, that gaze had been pride. Comfort. The steady light of a father’s love.

Now, it was the cold judgment of a man who wished she did not exist.

Aria bowed stiffly. “Alpha Mason.”

Not Father. Never again.

A muscle ticked in his jaw at her formality, but he did not speak.

She straightened, forcing her voice not to tremble. “I need answers. If I am not your daughter, then whose am I?”

The silence stretched unbearably. Only the crackle of the hearth dared to fill the space between them.

Mason’s jaw clenched tighter.

“Tell me,” she pressed, stepping forward, her fists shaking at her sides, “where did I come from?”

Mason exhaled slowly, as though the weight of her question pressed against his very bones. His voice, when it came, was heavy. “I do not know.”

The floor seemed to tilt beneath her feet. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

His eyes darkened. “Elena and I found you. You were just a baby barely more than a year old. We were returning from a journey when we heard cries in the forest.”

Her pulse roared in her ears, drowning everything but his voice.

“At first, I wanted to walk away,” he continued. “The cries were faint. I thought perhaps it was a trick, some trap laid by rogues. But Elena…” His eyes flickered with something pain, maybe, or longing. “She insisted. She begged. She would not leave you behind.”

Aria’s chest tightened until she could not breathe.

“And then I scented it the faint trace of Alpha blood in your veins. It was undeniable. You were not an ordinary child.”

Her stomach twisted violently, her nails digging into her palms until they nearly bled.

“Against my better judgment, I yielded. Elena cradled you as though you were her own. From that moment, she loved you fiercely, completely. She made me promise on her dying breath that you would never know the truth. That you would live loved, never burdened by questions of bloodlines.”

Mason’s voice hardened, his eyes cutting into her like a blade. “I kept that promise until now. But when you brought shame to this pack, I could no longer hold my tongue.”

Shame.

The word cracked against her like a whip.

Aria staggered back, her hand flying to her chest as if to hold herself together. “So all this time… I was nothing more than a foundling? You don’t even know who my real family is?”

Mason’s gaze flickered something soft, fleeting but it vanished beneath the weight of steel. “No. I do not.”

Her breath came shallow, her thoughts spiraling like leaves in a storm.

No name. No family. No truth.

Who am I?

Her knees buckled. She caught herself against the table, tears spilling before she could stop them.

“I was never yours. Not truly. And now… I don’t even know who I am.”

Mason said nothing. His silence cut deeper than any blade.

For a moment, she almost wished he would rage, scream, even strike her anything but this emptiness, this hollow dismissal that told her she was less than nothing.

Her chest collapsed with every breath. Her shoulders shook as she turned from him.

Moon Goddess, why? Why did you let me believe I belonged when I never did?

Her wolf stirred inside her, its voice a whisper against her grief.

You are not alone, Aria. I am with you. Together, we are strong. Together, we will seek answers.

Her hands shook as she pressed a fist to her mouth, choking on a sob.

But how? Where do we begin?

Her wolf rumbled with quiet certainty. The truth will call to us. And when it does, we will follow.

Aria’s gaze dropped to the glowing crest on her wrist. It shimmered faintly, alive, as though mocking her or guiding her.

A chill swept over her skin. She could not say why, but deep inside, something told her this mark: the very curse that had ruined her was also the key to everything.

Slowly, she straightened, wiping the tears from her face. Her heart still bled, but in the cracks, something new began to stir. Not hope. Not yet. But resolve.

She whispered into the silence, more to herself than to Mason:

“I will find out who I am. Even if it kills me.”

The torches along the walls flickered violently, flames snapping as if the Moon Goddess herself had heard her vow.

And far beyond Silverfang territory, in the shadows of a distant throne, a man stirred from restless dreams. His chest burned with the echo of a mark—the same crest that flared on Aria’s wrist.

His lips curved into a cold, knowing smirk.

“Glowing again?”