THE SILVER LINING CHAPTER 7

She gave a slow nod. “No. I want justice. I want my father freed. I want the truth exposed. And I want you to fall, not from an assassin’s blade or a rebel’s plot, but from your own blindness.”

Miyal’s voice shook now. “And if I step aside? Will you spare the pack?”

She looked at him for a long moment.

“No,” she said softly. “Because you  and them cheered when she burned.”               

     Miyal faltered. His breath caught. Something in her gaze gripped him by the soul.

“I—”

She touched his forehead, whispering an old spell that tasted of wormwood and blood. His eyes glazed over for a moment as her enchantment took hold.

“Forget what I just said,” she whispered, kissing his temple. “Not yet. Not until I decide you’re ready to remember.”

His expression softened, mind clouded, and he blinked at her. “I… came to check on you…”

“I’m fine,” she said, voice gentle again. “You should rest.”

He nodded slowly, dazed, and left the chamber.

When the door closed, her mask dropped. Perfera stood alone again, face contorted with grief and fury.      

       10 years earlier

The fire roared behind them, licking up the blackened beams of what once had been the Spade family estate. The night was filled with ash and the distant snarls of beasts still roaming wild beyond the hills. Soldiers of the Crescent Silver Moon pack stood in rigid lines around the crumbling remains, their silver armor smeared with soot and blood. In the center of it all stood the Alpha—the great Moon King himself—clad in obsidian ceremonial robes that shimmered like starlight under the burning sky.

Perfera was on her knees before him, only twelve but already hardened by grief. Her silver hair hung in messy tangles around her tear-streaked face. She clutched her father’s old talisman in trembling fingers, as if the sigil could somehow protect her from what was about to be said.

“Silence,” the Alpha snarled, turning his hard golden eyes toward her. “Vosvak Spade played god with forbidden magics. He summoned things that were never meant to cross into this world. His corruption spread like poison through our lands. He will die in Il’Sharak—chained in the deep chambers, where his whispers will never reach another soul.”

“No!” Perfera sobbed, throwing herself forward. “Please—that’s not the truth! He was trying to stop the curse! He saved people, he saved—!”

The Alpha’s hand rose, and the guards yanked her back roughly. She screamed, fighting, but her strength was nothing against their armor and duty.

He looked down at her, gaze glinting like forged iron. “The rest of the Spade line—third-degree descendants and all branches—are stripped of noble status effective immediately. They are to be exiled to the Ashwold outskirts. From this day forward, none shall step foot on the Crescent Silver Moon pack’s sacred lands again. Let their name be forgotten.”

Gasps rippled through the guards. Perfera’s breath left her in a choked scream. “No! Please! My cousins—they’re children! My aunt’s never even practiced magic—!”

But the Alpha wasn’t done.

“And you, Perfera,” he said coldly, “you alone are spared.”

She froze, wide-eyed, not daring to believe it.

“Not for mercy,” he continued. “But for debt.”

He knelt so they were eye to eye, the fire reflecting in the etched scars along his cheek. “Your father, despite the sins he later committed, once saved my son. When Miyal was bitten by a cursed creature during the Siege of Ulvin Hollow, Vosvak sacrificed a part of his own soul to bind the corruption before it reached the boy’s heart. For that... I grant you your life.”

Perfera’s mouth quivered. “Then… why punish him?”

The Alpha stood slowly. “Because saving a life does not give you the right to gamble with thousands more.”

He turned to walk away. “She will be watched. If she ever dabbles in his path, she dies.”

As he left, Perfera collapsed to the ground, trembling. The world around her darkened, but the fire kept burning. Every crackle was a laugh. Every flame, a finger pointing at her bloodline.

The next morning, the soldiers escorted her to the border.

That night, she buried her last name.

Perfera had run. Through the forests. Through the years. She survived under another name, another face, hidden by a kind couple who gave her shelter and called her their daughter. Until the monsters came for them too.

They were eaten alive.

And still, the Crescent Silver Moon pack thrived.

Now

Perfera returned to her room and sat before her mirror. Her fingers trembled as they brushed her cheek—where Miyal had once touched her, in a moment of weakness he no longer remembered.

“You loved her,” she whispered to her reflection. “But I loved you first. I waited. I hid who I was. I played the part of the loyal adviser. And still… you chose her.”

Her voice cracked as she let herself fall against the table, her shoulders shaking.

“She stole what was mine. But it’s not over. Not until he sees the truth.”

A knock on the door. She wiped her tears away.

“Come in.”

A servant entered, head bowed. “Lady Perfera, the council requests your presence in the war chamber.”

She straightened, expression calm again. “Tell them I’ll be there shortly.”

When the servant left, she glanced toward the balcony. In the distance, the forest of Brunschiere pulsed green in the night.

Krishna is alive. But Perfera doesn't know .

The moon hung low and pale, like an old scar across the night sky. In the upper spire of the Crescent Silver Moon palace, Perfera stood before the obsidian mirror, a crown of silver thorns glinting atop her brow. Her fingers were pale, nails dug into the edge of the vanity as if to steady herself. Her eyes—blue once, now lilac stained with secrets—watched her own reflection with eerie calm.

She inhaled slowly and whispered, “I am their new Luna now.”

A long pause. Her reflection didn’t blink.

“I will make them feel it. Every step I take. Every decree I breathe. I’ll belong at Miyal’s side, and they will never question why.”

Behind her, the door creaked open again.

“Milady,” said Merva, her loyal attendant, a quiet shadow of a woman who had served her since the days of exile. “The council  calls again and awaits your decision on the border reinforcement.”

“Let them wait,” Perfera said without turning. “They’ve waited a decade to forget my family’s name. They can wait another hour to remember it.”