TWO

The sun had long dipped below the horizon, leaving the castle bathed in the soft, amber glow of lanterns.

Lillia stood before the mirror, her silver hair cascading over her shoulders, gleaming like threads of moonlight.

Her reflection stared back, strong, unyielding, and alive. She was no more the fragile girl who had fallen to her death. This body was hers now. Foreign, yes, but powerful. Beautiful. Fierce.

And yet… she mourned.

Her fingers traced the curve of her stomach, the absence of the life she had carried clawing at her heart. She thought of the baby she had never known, of her body smashed against the rocks below Clearwater Forest, of the friends who had died so she could live.

Guilt and grief twisted together like a noose.

Lillia sighed. She pressed her palms on the mirror, as if touching herself could anchor the two halves of her existence—Ishtar and Lillia.

“Focus,” she whispered, jaw tightening. “Strength first. Revenge second. Survival always. You’re barking up the wrong tree, Regaleon, I will never be at your mercy.” Her silver eyes narrowed, burning with defiance.

The rustle of silk and the faint clink of metal announced the handmaidens. They entered silently, their gazes sharp, calculating, and cold. Each step measured, each glance deliberate.

They had been handpicked by Regaleon, not out of loyalty to her, but to watch her, to keep her in line. And they did not respect her.

“My Lady,” the head-maiden said curtly, her tone dripping with thinly veiled disdain. “You will appear at the joining celebration tonight as the proper Luna. Queen to Alpha King Regaleon. I trust the honour will not… overwhelm you again.”

“Yes, indeed,” the assistant continued. “I imagine the occasion must be… overwhelming for someone of your origins. Do try not to let your enthusiasm carry you away again, my Lady.”

Low giggling echoed behind Lillia as she narrowed her eyes.

Of course.

What else had she expected after the woman who once owned this body chose death right after her joining? Disrespect had been inevitable, she had felt it ever since she woke beneath this roof. But she had not expected such open insolence from the very women meant to attend her.

They definitely did not see her as queen, and neither as their Luna. They saw a foreigner. A weak and broken bride, a coward who had chosen to run from her responsibilities rather than rule.

Lillia’s fist tightened. Never again would she be stepped on and disregarded. Never again would she be the weak liability incapable of fighting for herself.

With that, she turned slowly and approached the maidens. Without a word, she lifted her fist and landed them a slap each.

"You think you can judge me?” Her voice was low, smooth, but carrying an edge that made the air still as the maidens froze with wild wide eyes. “You think you can look down on me because I am a foreigner? Because I am… new?”

The head maiden’s lips pressed into a tight line. “We only serve… and ensure you do not—”

“Do not what?” Lillia’s voice sharpened, cutting through the pretense. “Do not leave? Do not die?” Her gaze fixed on each of them in turn, silver eyes unyielding. “Let me be perfectly clear. Whatever thought you have of me, put it to death right now. Or I will end your lives.”

Just as Regaleon had towered over her, she poured her rage in towering over them. “I am still Luna. I am in control of my life. Not you. Not him. Not anyone.”

The room froze, heavy silence settling as the handmaidens’ eyes flickered with surprise. They had not expected this—this quiet, feral authority.

“Now,” Lillia turned gracefully and sat in front of the mirror, her pair of piercing silver still staring them down. “You will obey me. You will prepare me, and you will never forget your place.”

“Yes… Luna.” The head maiden’s face twisted and loosened before she bowed, her assistant following in stiff compliance.

“Good.” Lillia shut her eyes all through her preparation, even when they announced their completion. Lillia’s expression remained cold as she opened her eyes.

“Leave me.”

When the maidens remained hesitant, she stared. “The guards are stationed outside. I am not foolish enough to attempt… foolishness again.”

The maidens shared hesitant glances that no more had ridicule or irritation before they bowed. The head-maiden looked at Lillia as though she were a different person entirely.

“We will return when the hour for your entry arrives.”

The moment the door closed, Lillia released a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Her heart pounded and her fingers shook. In all her years, this was the first time she had stood up for herself. The first time she had seized control and dominated it.

And it felt exceedingly good.

However, Lillia did not bask in this euphoria for long as a sudden howl vibrated through her. Deep. Raw.

She stilled as a pulse started in her mind, just as a familiar presence she had known but never fully touched appeared.

This time, she could almost reach and touch it as if it were physical.

“At last. I am free.” The soft voice cracked like lightning in her skull. Wild.

Lillia’s eyes widened. “It’s… you.” Her lips trembled.

“Yes,” her wolf rumbled, deep and startled. “I am Fenris. I have waited, waited through loneliness, weakness, and silence. And now… I am free—wait, you… we survived. How are we alive?”

Lillia endured Fenris' continuous rambling but didn’t find it one bit bothersome. Instead, unexpected tears welled up and poured.

Fenris felt like a connection from her past life. The only connection she had. Then, she could only sense a faint presence behind what felt like a wall in her mind. But this time, that wall was gone.

“I don’t know. I remember falling, and then I woke up here. In a new place, new body, and new name. The goddess has given us a second chance, but this isn’t much different from the life we had. But…” Lillia dabbed her eyes. “It’s lovely to finally meet you, Fenris.”

Fenris growled low, vibrating through Lillia’s chest. I felt you. I felt her. All of it. And yet… I could not touch you. Not when you were too weak. But now… I will never let you go. I will protect you… protect us.”

Lillia laughed as a tear escaped. How long had she waited to hear this? To feel this? She nodded. “We will get stronger. We will be unstoppable. And then… then I will make them all pay.”

By the time the maidens returned, an even colder fire blazed in her silver eyes that reaffirmed Lillia’s sudden change in character to the head maiden. An unsettling certainty she needed to closely confirm and report to Regaleon.

****

The great hall was already alive with noise.

Laughter clashed with music. Goblets rang. Politics breathed beneath every smile. Wolfbane banners draped the stone walls, crimson and black, heavy with legacy and blood.

Alpha Regaleon lounged on his obsidian throne, high, regal and indifferent; the polished edges catching the hall lights. Draped in dark silk, he scanned the hall with a slow, deliberate gaze, every movement controlled. His every look was a quiet claim of power, as if the entire room existed only for his judgment.

Then, the doors groaned. They parted slowly as a familiar voice rang out.

It hushed the nearest voices instantly. Conversation faltered gradually, and the noisy hall went silent. The long-awaited hour was here.

They were all here to see the Alpha King’s bride. To see the woman chosen. And if she was deserving of the empty obsidian throne beside the Alpha.

A name rang out, carried by a herald who suddenly stood straighter than before.

Entering, Princess Lillia Silvervein of the Silver North. Now Luna Lillia Dravenhart, Queen to Alpha King Regaleon Dravenhart of Clan Wolfsbane.

The name rolled through the hall, foreign, sharp-edged, unfamiliar. It did not belong to this land, and everyone felt it.

Silence followed with the sharp but steady click of heels. The silence was heavy. Assessing. Whispers died halfway out of mouths.

Chairs scraped as bodies adjusted without meaning to. The guests lifted their heads, necks craned to get a glimpse.

But her aura entered before she did.

It was not the meek presence they expected. Not the brittle foreign bride who had chosen death rather than face her crown.

It was colder. Strong, almost domineering.

Fenris stirred, sending Lillia’s already cold and towering aura off the roof. When Lillia finally stepped into the doorway, the hall seemed to shrink around her.

Silver hair caught the hall lights gleaming beautifully. Pale, luminous eyes scanned the room without haste, without fear. She moved with a controlled grace that did not seek approval, her posture straight, her head unbowed.

She was tall. Not towering, but enough. As she walked, she pulled every attention to her.

Enough that every woman present felt it. Enough that her height alone disrupted the quiet hierarchy of the room. Enough that when she sat beside Regaleon, the difference between them felt deliberate rather than diminishing.

She did not look at him. Nor acknowledged his presence.

Her gaze instead swept the hall instead, calm. Just as the guests assessed her, she assessed them.

Regaleon turned slowly, studying her anew, and for the first time that night, something unreadable crossed his face.

That night, Lillia of the Silver North took her place in Clan Wolfsbane, not as a bride or a pawn.

But as someone they would never expect or be prepared for.