THE REJECTED WHITE LUNA

The sharp scent of sweat and damp earth clung to the air around the training grounds, pressing heavy on Aria’s skin as she stood at the edge of the field. Her arms were wrapped tightly across her chest, not just to ward off the chill but to cage the tremors of a heart weighed down by years of unspoken pain. Her gaze was fixed on the dirt beneath her boots, but the sounds, the guttural commands, the crashing bones, the triumphant howls, pierced through her solitude.

“Shift!”

The single word cracked like lightning, and a cry of transformation shattered the tension. Aria’s eyes snapped upward just in time to see a boy on his knees, trembling violently as his body convulsed.

Bone creaked and reshaped with savage inevitability beneath his stretched skin until, finally, a wolf tore free, wild and raw, a living tempest unleashed.

Cheers erupted, swelling and crashing like a wave through the gathered crowd.

Pride. Triumph. Belonging. All things that slipped through Aria’s fingers like smoke.

She stood frozen, chest tight, as if the joy around her robbed her of air. This field, these moments, had once held promise for her. She had hoped, fought, and begged her own body for a sign, a spark, anything.

But there was only silence. No call in her mind. No wolf waiting in the shadows. Nothing.

“She’s still here?” The murmur cut through the cheers, sharp and cold.

Aria’s fingers clenched at her sides, nails digging into her palms, but she refused to turn.

“What’s the point? She should be hidden away in the omega quarters by now.”

“Even the omegas serve some purpose.” A cruel laugh floated on the breeze, and each word was a stone sinking in her chest.

“Aria.” The voice made her stop, utterly still, as though the ground beneath her had hardened.

It was not a summons from a friend. It never was. She turned slowly, dread coiling tighter in her gut.

Alpha Magnus, her father, stood a few steps away, tall, impossibly rigid, a monument to authority and cold expectation. His gaze swept over her, brief and dismissive. There was no warmth, no flicker of concern. Only the cold blade of disappointment.

“Why are you here?” His voice was low, but each syllable sliced.

Aria swallowed hard, her voice a fragile thread. “I… I came to train.”

“You have nothing to train.” Muffled laughter rippled from the onlookers.

The words burrowed deep, but she planted her feet. “I thought if I kept trying….”

“Trying?” His tone sharpened like a whip. “For seventeen years?”

Suddenly, all eyes were on her, and the weight of their judgment was suffocating.

“You embarrass this pack every time you set foot on this field,” he continued. “Go inside. There, at least, you’ll be less visible.”

Less visible. The phrase echoed in her mind like a cruel mantra.

She lowered her gaze, nodded, and turned away before the tears could betray her.

Inside the pack house, the atmosphere was no balm. If anything, it was worse.

Out in the open, some pretended not to see her. Here, no one even bothered.

“Careful, she might shatter something,” one maid hissed as Aria passed.

“Or herself,” another chuckled darkly.

Aria’s head stayed bowed, her footsteps light, almost ghostlike, as if she could vanish by moving quietly enough.

“Hey.” A shiver crawled down her spine. She didn’t turn; she knew the voice well. Damien, the Beta Morris son.

“Well, if it isn’t the Alpha’s failure,” he sneered, circling her like a predator.

“What are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be hiding?” Snickers rippled from the shadows.

“I’m not bothering anyone,” Aria murmured, eyes fixed ahead.

Damien closed the distance, voice dropping. “That’s the problem. You exist.” Her breath hitched.

His shoulder jabbed hers, rough enough to unbalance but not to topple, just enough to remind her of her place.

Steadying herself, she pressed on, refusing to look back.

By the time she reached the forest’s edge, her chest heaved, lungs hungry for air.

Beneath the ancient trees, the cacophony of the pack faded into a distant memory.

The taunts, the whispers, the disdain, all dissolved into the rustling leaves and the cool, forgiving breeze.

Aria exhaled, shoulders dropping, the tight knot loosening for the first time all day.

This sanctuary, this wild refuge, was her only reprieve.

“Rough day?” The gentle voice pulled her from shadows.

She turned to see Lina emerging from behind a tree, concern softening her eyes. Unlike the pack, Lina’s gaze held neither judgment nor pity. She saw Aria’s worth.

“I heard,” Lina said softly. “Are you alright?”

A humorless laugh escaped Aria’s lips. “Do I look alright?”

Lina said nothing, simply enfolding her in a hug. Aria stiffened briefly, then surrendered to the rare comfort, clutching it like a lifeline.

“I don’t understand,” Aria whispered. “Why don’t I have a wolf?”

Lina’s arms tightened. “You will,” she promised. “Maybe you’re just… different.”

The word struck a nerve. Different. A label Aria had worn too long.

As the sun dipped low, painting the sky with bruised colors, Aria sat alone on the forest floor, eyes fixed on her hands.

Seventeen years. No wolf. No bond.

But in the pack, she was no daughter, no sister. Out here, no one’s. A cold truth crept in, chilling her heart.

What if they were right? What if she really was nothing?