Chapter 4

★𝕽𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖓

The celebration in the Great Hall continued well into the evening, a vibrant tapestry of laughter, boasts, and the hearty clinking of tankards. My father, Alpha kaelen, held court with the older warriors, his booming laugh echoing through the stone arches.

My mother, Luna Freya, moved among the she-wolves, her presence a calming balm. But amidst the joyous chaos, my mind was a storm, a relentless battlefield where instinct clashed with an unthinkable reality.

My mate. It couldn't be.

The scent, so clear and intoxicating as I approached the palace, had become even more potent in the confined spaces of the hall. It clung to Olivia. My sister.

I watched her, discreetly, from the head table. She moved with an innate grace, her royal blue gown flowing around her like shadows, a stark contrast to the plain kitchen attire I usually saw her in.

I’d always thought of her as… simply Liv. My younger sister, quiet, diligent, skilled in the domestic arts, especially the culinary ones. We’d grown up together, shared the same parents, the same blood.

But now, every glance, every subtle movement of hers, was viewed through a new, terrifying lens. The way her dark hair framed her face, the quiet focus in her eyes as she spoke to a maid, the soft curve of her smile as she heard a particularly boisterous joke from the warriors, it all registered with a primal intensity that made my wolf restless within me. He purred, a deep, satisfied rumble, echoing the hunger I felt, a hunger that defied logic, defied pack law, defied everything.

It was perverse. Taboo. My sister. Yet, my wolf snarled, demanding. Mate.

I excused myself from the head table,with Liam following me up immediately, then i excused him to enjoy him self.The pleasant drone of conversation fading as I walked. I needed air. I needed to think. My instincts screamed at me to follow Olivia, to confront her, to claim her. But my human mind, steeped in generations of tradition and the rigid lines of family, recoiled. How could she be? It was impossible.

I found myself in the quieter, outer corridors, away from the main celebrations. The scent of her lingered here too, fainter, but still a tantalizing promise. It was unique, so distinctly Olivia, yet also… not entirely Silvermoon. It had a wilder, more ancient undertone, something that whispered of forgotten forests and untamed power. I’d never noticed it before. Or perhaps, I hadn't been tuned to recognize it.

My mind raced back to the old prophecies, the obscure texts I'd studied in the Ancient Alphas' lands. Tales of misplaced heirs, of bonds that defied bloodlines, of a true Luna whose lineage was shrouded in secrets. I'd dismissed them as fantastical lore, mere cautionary tales. Now, they clawed at the edges of my sanity.

Why am i suddenly having this thoughts? I said moving my head from side to side.

I found my mother, Luna Freya, speaking with Elder Elias in a secluded alcove. Elias, with his eyes that seemed to hold the wisdom of centuries, was often the keeper of forgotten truths. "Mother," I greeted them, keeping my voice even, calm. "Elder."

"Ronan, my son!" Freya's smile was warm, relieved. "You look well. The feast is a great success."

"Indeed," I said, my gaze flickering to Elias. "I was just... reflecting on the recent lessons. Ancient lineages, pack histories. It's fascinating how stories can diverge over time." I tried to sound casual, but every word felt weighted.

"Our own history, for example. Was there ever anything unusual about our line? Distant cousins joining the pack, perhaps? Or unusual circumstances of birth, even generations ago?"

Elias’s gaze, sharp and perceptive, seemed to pierce through my forced casualness. He simply inclined his head, his expression unreadable. "All packs have secrets, Ronan. And histories are often written by the victors. Our pack, too, has seen its share of... unique events." His eyes shifted, almost imperceptibly, towards the direction of the kitchens. "Some truths are best left buried, others eventually rise to the surface, as inevitable as the dawn."

Freya, sensing a shift in the air, interjected smoothly, "The only unique event we celebrate, my son, is your return. And soon, the securing of your line. The pack eagerly awaits its Luna." She gave me a significant look, echoing what she'd told Olivia, her silver eyes conveying the unspoken pressure.

I acknowledged her words, the weight of expectation. But my mind was already racing, piecing together the Elder's cryptic words, the subtle anomaly in Olivia's scent, and the undeniable pull of my wolf. There was a secret. And my mate, my sister, was at its heart.

I would find out what it was. And I would claim what was mine. No matter the cost.