Chapter Four

The morning started like any other. From the attic, I heard the pack yard come alive—the crunch of boots on dirt, the sharp crack of practice hits, the shouts from the warriors training. I could pick out every single sound, but one rose above them all. My brother’s voice. Commanding. Certain. The future Alpha. My father never missed a chance to boast about him, and today was no different. His booming laughter carried from the yard below like a drumbeat.

I sat near the attic window, watching through the cracks in the walls. The forest beyond swayed gently in the morning breeze, sunlight dripping through the leaves like gold. Everything looked so normal, so steady. The air smelled of clean dirt and pine. I had no idea that by the end of the day, everything would change.

By noon, the air was thick with the sound of sparring. The clanging of steel against steel, the deep thud of a body hitting the ground, the shouts of encouragement. My brother trained harder than usual, fueled by the pride of his first shift. Every cheer from the yard stabbed at me, a reminder of the chasm between us, but I couldn’t look away. I watched him move, so fluid, so strong. A part of me was jealous, but a deeper part was proud. He was my twin, my other half.

A soft knock came at the door, pulling me from my thoughts. It was Leah. She came upstairs with bread and water. “They’re pushing him hard today,” she said softly, setting the food down. “The Alpha wants to show the pack how powerful a true golden wolf can be.”

“I can see that,” I whispered, staring through the cracks.

Leah leaned closer to the window, her face pale. “He’s stronger than any of them.” But her hands trembled as she said it. She kept glancing toward the tree line instead of the yard. Her lips pressed together as if she wanted to say something but didn’t.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. “You’re shaking.”

She blinked quickly. “Nothing. Just cold.” But the attic was warm.

She sat with me, both of us staring out at the yard. My brother’s wolf had come so easily, so naturally. He was faster now, sharper, almost untouchable. The warriors cheered his every strike, their voices a constant, joyous roar. My father’s booming laugh carried above it all, full of pride and arrogance.

“Sometimes I wish I could warn him,” I said quietly. “That it isn’t always safe. That being chosen isn’t always a gift.”

Leah’s eyes flicked to me. “Warn him about what?”

I shook my head. “Forget it.”

She bit her lip, turning back to the yard. “The Goddess chooses as She wills,” she said, but her voice lacked conviction.

And then it happened.

At first, I thought it was just another spar. Another show of strength from my perfect brother. But the cheers that rose from the pack turned into a scream. Then another. And another. Chaos swept across the yard in a rush of sound.

“Rogues!” someone shouted. The word was a spear of terror.

My heart slammed into my ribs. I pressed my face closer to the window. From the gaps in the wood, I saw them—dark shapes bursting from the tree line, eyes glowing red, teeth bared. They moved fast, faster than I could count, tearing into the training ground.

Warriors shifted in flashes of fur and muscle, the air filled with snarls and the clash of bodies. The ground shook under the weight of the fight. My father shifted too, his wolf towering, golden and furious, a pillar of rage in the chaos.

My brother—my twin—shifted and charged. His wolf was brave, reckless, his golden fur glowing under the sun. For a moment, I thought he could handle it. I thought he was everything they believed he was. A hero. But there were too many.

I pressed my hand to the window, breath trapped in my chest as I watched him fight. His claws tore into one rogue, his jaws snapped another’s throat. But another came. And another. And another. His wolf stumbled under their weight, blood staining his fur.

“No,” I whispered. “No, no, no—”

Leah’s hand clamped over mine, her own breath breaking. “Aria, they need to get to him. The Alpha’s close. He’s right there—” But she didn’t shout for help. She didn’t move. She just gripped my hand tighter, almost painfully, her eyes fixed on the fight with a strange, unreadable look.

My brother’s howl split the air, high and sharp, filled with pain. It was a sound that cut through me, deeper than any blade. It felt like my own throat was being torn open. I banged my hand against the window, as if somehow he could hear me, as if somehow I could help.

But I couldn’t.

The rogues dragged him down, their teeth sinking deep, their snarls deafening. My father roared, tearing them away, his fury unmatched. The pack fought with everything they had, blood painting the dirt like a macabre canvas. I saw my brother’s eyes—briefly—through the chaos. Golden, wide, looking straight toward me in the attic window. Pleading. Then dull.

When the last rogue fell, the yard was silent.

Too silent.

My brother lay still on the ground as he shifted, his golden skin matted with red. His chest didn’t rise. His eyes didn’t glow. The pack stood frozen, their triumph gone, replaced by a deep, guttural horror.

I pressed my hand harder against the glass, tears flooding my eyes, blinding me. “Get up,” I whispered. “Please, get up.”

But he didn’t. He would never get up again.

Leah pulled me back from the window as my knees buckled, my sobs breaking free. “Aria, don’t—”

“No!” My voice cracked, raw with grief. “He can’t—he can’t be gone!” I looked at Leah, pleading. "Tell me he's not gone! He's a wolf, he's strong!"

Leah just held me, her face pale. "I’m so sorry," she whispered. "I’m so sorry, Aria." Her voice trembled, but there was something in her eyes—something like guilt—that she quickly hid by looking away.

The truth was carved into the yard below. My father shifted back, his hands shaking as he touched his son’s body. My mother screamed, a sound I had never heard from her before, wild and broken. She threw herself over him, clutching his lifeless form, rocking as if her love could bring him back.

The pack howled in mourning, a cry that shook the ground itself. Wolves lowered their heads, warriors pounded their fists into the dirt. The sound wrapped around me, crushing, endless. From the corner of my eye, I saw Leah stand, her face hard now, her fists clenched. She muttered something under her breath, too low for me to hear. When she noticed me watching, she quickly smoothed her expression and sat again, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll stay with you,” she said softly, almost too softly.

And then, slowly, heads began to turn. Not toward my father. Not toward my mother. But toward me. Even from the attic, I could feel their eyes. They were no longer mourning. They were accusing.

The cursed child. The weak twin. The one the Goddess had abandoned. Whispers carried through the yard, sharp as knives. “It should’ve been her.” “She brings nothing but bad luck.” “The Goddess took the wrong twin.”

The attic door flew open, and my father stood there, his face a mask of grief and rage. My mother was behind him, her eyes red and full of terrible hate.

“Get out of my sight,” my father snarled, his voice a low growl. “This is your fault.”

My mother stepped forward, pointing a shaking finger at me. "He was the pride of this family. The future of this pack. And you... you watched him die. This is your fault, Aria!"

Leah stepped in front of me. “Alpha, Luna, please. This isn’t her fault.”

My father’s eyes burned, but his grief was too great to argue. He didn’t want to see me, to be reminded of what he had lost. “Get out. Now.”

He left. My mother followed, but not before giving me a final look of cold, bitter hatred. Leah pulled me back from the door, her arms tight around me, but nothing could shield me from the truth.

My brother was gone. The perfect son. The chosen heir. The pride of the pack. And I was still here. The one they didn’t want. The one they would never forgive. The one who watched.

The night fell heavy and cold. I sat on the attic floor, staring at nothing, my tears long dried. Leah stayed with me, silent, her presence the only thing keeping me from falling apart completely. Downstairs, the mourning chants rose, low and endless. They were grieving him. They were honoring him.

But no one came to me. No one asked how I felt. No one remembered I had lost my twin, my other half. Because in their eyes, I had lost nothing.

In their eyes, I was the loss.