chapter 12

The room was silent when Lydia closed the door behind her, the soft snick of the latch echoing louder than it should have, it felt like a different world entirely—one where the weight of decisions made in the dark pressed heavily on her shoulders.

Her heart still thudded with the remnants of emotion from the blood-binding ceremony. She’d smiled and played the part, but inside, she’d felt herself being torn away from something she couldn’t quite name. Something old. Something safe.

She crossed the room, grabbed her phone from the side table, and sat on the bed. Her fingers hesitated for a second before she tapped Blake’s name.

The phone rang twice before a familiar voice—breathless and anxious—picked up.

“Lydia?”

Lydia let out a shaky breath. “Hey, Blake.”

“Oh my goddess! I’ve been trying to reach you all day. I tried the mind-link at least ten times. I felt something—like something inside me was...cut off.”

Lydia swallowed. “That’s because it was.”

“What?”

“I joined the Blue Moon Pack today,” Lydia said softly. “We had the mating ceremony. I’m part of Blue Moon now.”

“Lydia, I hope it isn’t what I’m thinking. You’ve been marked by Knox? And joining them today—does that mean you two mated?” Blake’s voice wavered, a sharp edge of panic beneath his words.

Lydia laughed, but it was dry and hollow. “No, silly. It was a blood-binding ritual. The ceremony only involved drinking each other’s blood, that’s all. We didn’t mate. Not like we ever would.”

There was silence on the other end.

Blake finally whispered, “Oh, thank goodness.”

“What for? Is it because I didn’t sleep with Knox or something?”

“Yes. That... and also because I’m thankful. That he accepted you into his pack, even when you’re not his mate. He’s truly kind.”

Lydia nodded to herself, her voice low. “Yeah, he is. But he also had something to gain from the deal. So, either way, it was a mutual arrangement.”

“Oh right. Thalia?” Blake asked.

“Yeah. Thalia’s his mate, so he’s not doing this just for me. He’s doing it for himself too.”

“I guess that settles it then,” Blake said. “So… the connection we had—”

“It’s gone,” Lydia confirmed. “You won’t be able to reach me freely anymore. Not through the pack link.”

“I didn’t even get to say goodbye to it,” Blake said, half-laughing, half-crying. “ so What the hell happened? Are you okay?”

Lydia laid back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I guess that depends on what you mean by okay.”

She told Blake everything, the words pouring out like they’d been building pressure all day. The blood ritual. The twins Ella and Kate who had cornered her with their sugar-coated venom. And finally—Nina.

“She’s not like the others,” Lydia murmured, her voice low. “She’s calm. Controlled. But the moment she looked at me, I felt like I was being measured. Judged. She didn’t say a lot, but her silence said enough.”

“Nina?” Blake repeated, like the name left a bitter taste in his mouth. “I think I know who she is. Eddie mentioned her once—said she was Knox’s betrothed before he rejected the arrangement after hearing about our pack hosting the Ball.”

That piqued Lydia’s interest. “What do you mean?” She’d heard a little from Brian, but Eddie clearly knew more—and he had told Blake.

“She’s from a noble house. Royal-adjacent. Powerful bloodline. The kind Lycans keep close when it comes to matters of succession.”

Lydia sat up straighter. “Succession?”

“Yeah. That’s actually why I called you earlier,” Blake said. “The Lycan Trials are happening soon. The three princes—including your Alpha—are required to return to the palace in a few months. They’ll compete in three trials to decide who becomes the next king.”

Lydia’s heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“You didn’t know?”

“No.” Lydia stood abruptly, pressing the phone tighter to her ear. “Knox never mentioned it.”

Blake went quiet for a moment. “Maybe he needed time to figure out how to tell you.”

“Or maybe he didn’t think I needed to know,” Lydia said, bitterness slipping into her voice before she could stop it.

“Maybe… it’s because you’re not his fated mate,” Blake offered gently. “Eddie said Knox hasn’t told anyone outside the council yet. Maybe he’s just trying to keep things quiet.”

Lydia began pacing her room. “It makes sense. It’s political. But still…”

“Maybe he needed time to figure out how to tell you,” Blake said.

“Or maybe he didn’t think I needed to know,” Lydia replied, bitterness seeping into her voice before she could stop it.

“Maybe… it’s because you’re not his fated mate,” Blake offered gently. “Eddie said Knox hasn’t told anyone outside the council yet. He might just be trying to keep things quiet.”

Lydia paced the length of her room, arms folded tightly across her chest. “It makes sense. It’s political. But still…”

“You don’t agree,” Blake said softly, reading her tone.

Lydia paused at the window, gazing out over the moonlit forest. “No,” she admitted quietly. “Deep down, I don’t.”

True, they weren’t mates—but he still should’ve told her. Especially in the office, during the ritual. She was part of his pack now. His Luna. Even if it was only for show. That alone should’ve meant something.

The line went silent for a beat before Blake’s voice returned, softer now. “Lyd, I’ve been researching. After you left, I raided the pack’s library. I thought maybe… just maybe I’d find something about lost wolf bonds or stolen scents. But there’s nothing. No records. Not a single mention of how to recover a scent once it’as if there is nothing like it maybe it the first time.”

Lydia’s chest tightened. “So it’s just…blank?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s buried in some royal archive, or maybe it’s something they don’t want us to find..”

“Worse” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Blake hesitated. “ look I think otherwise. Maybe It could mean suppression magic. The kind that hides your true nature. Or… a complete severing of your soul tie.”

Lydia sank onto the edge of her bed, the weight of her words pressing down hard. The idea that something so sacred—so defining—could be taken from her, erased, left her hollow.

“I’m sorry, Lydia,” Blake whispered. “I really tried.”

“I know,” Lydia said, forcing a small smile. “And I’m grateful. But you don’t have to worry anymore. I’ll handle it from here.”

It had only been a day or two… right? She reminded herself. All hope wasn’t lost.

Circe would come back to her—Lydia believed that. Even though it was just faint traces now, subtle flickers of presence, she could feel her. Circe wasn’t fully back yet, but Lydia would find a way. She had to. By any means necessary.

And though she hated to admit it… Knox would help her.

She just didn’t know why he would.

“You sure?” Blake asked.

“I am,” Lydia said, her voice low but steady. “It’s my wolf. My problem. And I need to face it alone.”

“Okay. Just… be careful.”

“I will. Goodnight, Blake.”

“Night, sis. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

They ended the call. Lydia sat for a moment in the silence, the phone still in her hand, before finally setting it down. She stood and headed to the bathroom.

The hot water eased some of the tightness in her chest. She let it pour over her, scrubbing away the day’s tension until her fingers wrinkled. When she stepped out, a cream nightgown lay folded neatly on the bed. She didn’t know who had left it, but it was soft, elegant—something a Luna would wear.

She slipped it on, then towel-dried her hair as she padded barefoot to the vanity. She avoided her reflection. She already knew what she’d see—tired eyes, lips pressed in a tight line, a haunted, hollow gaze.

That wasn’t her.

She remembered who she used to be—lively, vibrant, full of fire. Because of Circe.

But now, with Circe gone, she felt… half-dead.

Because Circe was her other half. For every werewolf, their wolf wasn’t just a companion. It was them. And without hers, Lydia was only half a soul trying to walk through a world built for the whole.

She climbed into bed, pulled the blanket up to her chin, and turned off the lamp. Moonlight spilled across the floor, soft and silver.

Sleep came slowly.

But when it did, it came like a storm.

---

The dream began in silence.

Then came the growl.

Low. Mournful. Agonized.

Lydia stood in a cavernous room, lit only by flickering torches mounted to cold, damp stone walls. Chains hung from the ceiling like twisted vines. The air was thick with the scent of blood, smoke, and damp fur. Every breath burned in her lungs.

Ahead of her stood a cage—its black iron bars warped into jagged, unnatural angles. And behind them…

A massive white wolf.

Its fur was as pale as snow—whiter than anything Lydia had ever seen. She had only heard of such creatures in fairytales. Legends passed down by her mother, Alice. The White Wolf. A being said to descend from the guardian wolves, a creature of rare power and divine origin.

But here it was.

Real.

Caged.

Shackled.

Its fur was matted with blood and mud, its flanks heaving as it strained against the restraints. Muscles trembled beneath the filth, and raw magic rippled off its body like heat.

Its eyes—piercing gold flecked with blue—locked onto hers.

Lydia stumbled forward. “Circe?”

The wolf whimpered, and the sound shattered something inside her.

Suddenly, the chains jerked, slamming the wolf back to the ground. Lydia screamed and rushed to the bars, but she couldn’t get close. An invisible force held her back—like a wall of glass. Like magic.

That surprised her.

From the shadows, a cloaked figure emerged. Silent. Menacing. It carried a tray with three glowing vials—one green, one red, one black—each pulsing with unnatural light.

The figure approached the cage and uncorked the green vial first. With terrifying gentleness, it held the glass to the wolf’s mouth.

Circe thrashed violently, her white fur catching the torchlight like moonfire.

This was the first time Lydia had seen her wolf in full color. Circe had always been a deep brown—large, strong, grounded. But now… she was massive. Nearly twice the size Lydia remembered, her fur a rare, glistening snow-white. An ancient color. A sacred one.

Circe fought, snarling and twisting, but the chains tightened mercilessly.

The cloaked figure poured the glowing green liquid into her mouth.

The wolf's eyes went wide, pain and confusion flaring in them as the potion burned down her throat. Her body convulsed, her white fur rippling as if something deep inside her rejected whatever had just been forced into her.

“Stop!” Lydia cried, slamming her fists against the unseen wall. “Let her go!”

The cloaked figure turned to face her.

Its features were swallowed by shadow, but its voice echoed directly into her mind.

“She was never yours to keep.”

Lydia’s breath caught. “What?”

Just as she stepped forward to confront the cloaked figure, it vanished—dissolving into the darkness like smoke.

Circe collapsed, panting, her massive body twitching as if she were barely clinging to life.

Then the wolf raised her head.

And her voice—Lydia’s voice—spoke from her mouth.

“He is coming.”

Lydia’s blood ran cold.

The torchlight flickered wildly, casting long shadows across the chamber.

Circe lifted her head once more, golden eyes burning like fire.

“He is coming,” she repeated, louder this time. “He is coming, Lydia. And he knows what you are.”

---

Lydia awoke with a gasp.

Her sheets were soaked in sweat. Her hands trembled as she pushed herself upright, chest heaving.

The room was silent.

No cloaked figure.

No cage.

No Circe.

But the words still echoed in her mind.

He is coming.

But who?

And what… exactly… was she?