Preface

Preface

Zara Fen POV

In Silvercrest, survival depended on rank.

If you were born strong, the pack protected you. If you were useful, mistakes were forgiven. If you were powerful, rules bent quietly in your favor.

If you were none of those things, the pack reminded you where you stood.

My father was an Alpha warrior. He led patrols, defended borders, and bled for Silvercrest without hesitation. When he died during the Silvercrest Rogue War, the pack honored him for one night. They lit torches. They spoke his name with pride. They promised his sacrifice would never be forgotten.

By the next morning, his name was already fading.

Whatever protection his position gave me disappeared with him. I was no longer the Alpha’s daughter. I was simply something left behind.

My birth mother left before dawn.

No one stopped her. No one questioned her. Wolves leave when they sense danger. That was the excuse everyone used, even though no one could explain what danger she was running from.

I was taken in by my father’s mate and her daughter, Elara. The pack praised her kindness for doing so. They spoke of generosity and family duty. They told me often that I should be grateful.

I learned early that gratitude was a debt that never stopped growing.

From the beginning, I learned not to expect fairness.

Elara was admired. She was beautiful, confident, and perfectly suited to Silvercrest’s idea of strength. I was tolerated. I existed quietly beside her, careful not to draw attention. When something went wrong, blame found me quickly. When something went right, my presence was forgotten just as fast.

By the time I was old enough to understand pack customs, the word curse had already attached itself to my name.

I had no reflection.

Mirrors showed nothing when I stood before them. Not my face. Not my eyes. Nothing at all. Polished glass, still water, silver surfaces, all of them returned empty space where I should have been.

The elders pretended it was rare but harmless. The priests watched me more closely. My stepmother covered mirrors in the house and warned guests not to mention it. Fear settled into the walls long before I understood why.

Elara learned to smile when it happened.

The first time a priest noticed properly, he pulled my stepmother aside and spoke in a low voice. I was not meant to hear him, but I did.

“Some wolves are not recognized by the moon,” he said. “And fate does not make mistakes.”

After that, I was watched more closely than the others. Not with concern. With expectation. Like something waiting to go wrong.

Silvercrest held more mating ceremonies than any other pack. Wolves came from far territories hoping fate would finally choose them. The pack called it generosity. They said Silvercrest gave chances where others did not.

For me, it was pressure.

Each ceremony was another test. Another public moment where the pack waited to see if the curse would prove itself real.

Three months ago, I stood beneath the moon for the first time. The priests chanted. The crowd held its breath. Bonds formed all around me. Wolves gasped as the pull snapped into place. Hands reached out. Joy broke through the crowd like relief.

Nothing answered me.

The moon rested on my skin and passed me by.

The silence afterward was worse than laughter would have been. It settled heavy and knowing. The priests said nothing. They didn’t have to. Everyone understood what it meant when the moon did not respond.

Afterward, the Council spoke privately with my stepmother.

“She will be allowed one more ceremony,” they said. “If fate does not choose her again, she will be declared unfit for union.”

Unfit.

The word carried consequences no one explained out loud. Wolves declared unfit did not remain in Silvercrest long. They were not protected. They were not matched. They were quietly removed from pack life, their names fading as if they had never belonged.

Tonight was my final chance.

Elara was being honored at the ceremony. High ranking Alphas were attending. Outsiders were watching. The pack wanted perfection on display, alliances strengthened, and power confirmed.

Before we left the house, my stepmother stopped me at the door.

“Do not embarrass us tonight,” she said. “If nothing happens for you again, the Council will act immediately.”

Elara smiled beside her, calm and confident, already certain of her place.

I understood then that this ceremony was not meant to save me.

It was meant to decide what to do with me.

When I stepped into the night, the air cold against my skin, I already knew one truth.

By the end of the ceremony, Silvercrest would either claim me or discard me.

There would be no third option.