Chapter Three: Two Lines Of Fate

The moon had long since set, but Aria could not sleep.

She sat curled on the edge of her bed, knees pressed tight to her chest, the shadows of the room pressing in on her like a cage. Her gaze never left the seared mark on her wrist. It pulsed faintly under the torchlight, its glow soft but unyielding, mocking her with every heartbeat.

Her nails had scratched the skin raw. She had tried again and again to scrape it away, to draw blood until nothing remained but torn flesh. Yet no matter how much she clawed, the mark endured bright, damning, cruel.

This cursed brand has stolen everything from me, she thought, bitter tears burning behind her eyes. My father’s pride. My pack’s respect. My future as Alpha.

All gone, ripped from me in a single night.

Her chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven bursts. Every breath was a fight, every heartbeat a reminder of what had been taken.

She wanted to scream until her throat bled. She wanted to howl to the Goddess, demanding to know why. But even if she screamed, even if she shattered her own voice, the echoes in her mind would remain.

“Cursed.”

“Tainted.”

“Not fit to lead.”

The whispers clung to her, louder in silence than they had ever been in the crowd. Each word dug into her flesh, deeper than any claw, sharper than any fang.

Her wolf stirred inside her, restless, unsettled. But even her wolf the spirit that was supposed to be her strength felt uncertain, unable to fight an enemy that could not be clawed or bitten.

Then came the nausea.

It had started a week after the ceremony, faint at first, easy to ignore. But now it twisted through her stomach like fire, rising and falling in violent waves. Aria doubled over, clutching her abdomen as bile clawed up her throat. She stumbled to the basin, falling to her knees as she retched.

Again and again, her body convulsed, until nothing remained but acid that scorched her throat and tears that streamed freely down her cheeks. Sweat plastered her dark hair to her temples. Her limbs trembled.

Her breath came in ragged gasps.

“Elora…” she rasped, her voice thin and broken, as she collapsed onto the floor. Her body refused to rise, her strength drained completely.

The door rattled against its frame. Then came the familiar panicked voice.

“Aria?”

Moments later, Elora burst into the room. She froze when she saw her best friend sprawled on the ground, pale and shivering. Her eyes widened with fear.

“Moon Goddess, you’re burning up!” Elora dropped to her knees, pressing a trembling hand to Aria’s forehead. Heat radiated against her palm. Panic filled her features. “I’ll fetch the healer”

“No!” Aria’s hand shot out with sudden strength, gripping Elora’s wrist hard enough to leave marks. Her eyes were wild, desperate. Her nails dug in. “No one must know. Please, Elora. Just… help me.”

Elora’s breath hitched. She stared into her friend’s frantic eyes, torn between duty and loyalty. Every instinct screamed at her to run for the healer, but Aria’s grip her plea was unyielding.

At last, Elora swallowed and nodded, whispering, “Then let me fetch something for your stomach. I’ll take care of you, I swear.”

The next morning, the sickness was worse.

By the third day, Aria collapsed again, her body weaker than before. Her skin had taken on a sickly pallor, her lips cracked from dehydration. She lay sprawled across her bed, unable to sit up.

Elora sat beside her, fear written in every line of her face. She pressed a hand to Aria’s forehead again, whispering, “This isn’t just fatigue. This… this feels different.”

“What do you mean?” Aria croaked, her throat dry and raw.

Elora hesitated, her hand trembling as she reached into her satchel. She pulled out a small strip of parchment, faintly green, soaked in crushed herbs.

“My mother taught me this, before I moved to Silverfang,” Elora whispered, her voice low, as though afraid the walls themselves might overhear. “It’s a test. If your body carries life, the potion will react.”

Aria froze. The words slammed into her like a blow.

“No,” she whispered, her voice sharp, shaking her head violently. “No, it can’t be. It can’t.”

Elora’s eyes shimmered with pity. “Aria, please. We must know.”

Her heart thundered so loudly it drowned out everything else. Sweat beaded at her temples, her breath catching in her throat. Her entire body shook as Elora pricked her finger and held out the parchment.

The drop of blood fell onto the strip. Red bloomed across green. The paper was soaked, then pressed flat to dry.

The minutes stretched into eternity.

The silence was unbearable. Each crackle of the torch on the wall was like thunder. The air itself seemed to grow heavier, pressing down on them both.

Aria’s eyes never left the strip, her stomach twisting tighter with each second. Her hands trembled in her lap. She prayed desperately to the Moon Goddess, begging, bargaining.

Please, not this. Anything but this.

And then two faint lines appeared.

The world tilted.

Aria’s breath shattered in her chest.

“No…” Her hands flew to her stomach, trembling violently. “No, no, no… Moon Goddess, this can’t be real.”

Her knees gave out. She collapsed backward onto the bed, clutching her abdomen as though she could squeeze the truth away, as though sheer force could erase what had been written in blood.

Pregnant.

She was pregnant.

The word echoed in her skull, louder and louder, until it drowned out thought itself.

I’m carrying his child. The child of the stranger who destroyed me.

Tears spilled hot and relentless down her cheeks, soaking the pillow beneath her. Her body shook as sobs tore through her chest like shards of glass.

She screamed to the ceiling, to the Goddess who had once been her light. “Why? Why are you punishing me this way?”

Elora’s own tears fell freely as she dropped to her knees beside her friend, wrapping trembling arms around her. “Aria, breathe. Please. We’ll figure this out. No one has to know. Not yet.”

But Aria could not stop. Her sobs ripped from her throat, raw and broken. “My father will kill me. The pack will exile me. Elora…” Her voice cracked, desperate and hollow. “What do I do?”

Her wolf stirred weakly inside her, a flicker of presence in the storm. Its voice was faint but insistent. You are not alone. We will endure this. We are strong.

But Aria could not believe it. Not now. Not when her entire world had already collapsed and another burden had just been laid on her shoulders.

Neither of them noticed the door.

It was left slightly ajar, the latch failing to catch.

Neither of them heard the sharp intake of breath from the hallway.

Jessica the Beta’s daughter stood frozen just outside, her body rigid, her hand clapped over her lips as her eyes widened with shock. Her pulse hammered in her throat, disbelief and exhilaration warring within her.

Pregnant.

The Alpha’s daughter. The supposed heir of Silverfang. Pregnant out of wedlock.

And not just with any wolf’s child no one even knew the bloodline of the father.

Her lips curled slowly, twisting into a dangerous smile.

For years, Jessica had lived in Aria’s shadow. Her father, Beta Lucas, had always compared her to the Alpha’s daughter.

“Why can’t you fight like Aria?”

“Why can’t you lead like Aria?”

“Why can’t you be strong like her?”

Each word had been a blade. Each comparison, a wound that festered in her chest. She had trained until her muscles screamed, but still her father looked past her to praise the Alpha’s perfect daughter.

And now finally the Moon Goddess had handed her the sharpest weapon of all.

A scandal. A shame. A ruin so deep it could not be hidden.

Jessica’s heart pounded, her breaths shallow with anticipation. She could already see it—the way the Elders’ faces would tighten in disgust, the way the whispers of the pack would sharpen into knives. The way Alpha Mason’s pride would crumble into ashes.

And Aria? Aria would fall.

The untouchable Aria Moonclaw would finally be dragged into the dirt where she belonged.

Jessica’s smile widened as she turned her gaze toward the corridor that led to the Elders’ quarters. A place where whispers became decrees.

A place where secrets turned into death sentences.

Her lips parted on a breathless laugh, dark and triumphant.

Finally. Finally, I can destroy her.