(3) Kaelara/Luna Is Dying!

The last enemy at the border fell with a broken snarl, the sound raw and feral beneath the cold, hot light of the sun.

It wasn’t quick, and it certainly wasn’t clean. The end came in savage brutality as Ronan’s wolf lunged forward and tore the attacker’s throat open in one vicious motion, powerful jaws sinking deep and ripping flesh and tendon apart.

At the same time, hot blood spilled across fur already soaked in crimson that was not his own.

The enemy’s body convulsed for a few seconds, then collapsed into the dirt as a discarded puppet with its strings cut.

Ronan stepped back slowly, his massive chest heaving with each breath as steam rose faintly from his body under the afternoon air.

His jaws were stained red, eyes glowing faintly with the lingering violence of battle.

Around him, the warriors of Silvercrest stood victorious yet battered, some wounded, some panting, a few barely able to stand, but none broken. They had held the border. They had done exactly what they were trained to do.

General Darion Nightbane shifted back into human form, the sharp cracking of bones and muscle reforming beneath his skin, his silver-streaked hair falling loosely into his eyes as he wiped blood from his blade with slow movements that spoke of long experience in war.

“It’s done,” Cassian muttered quietly as his sharp gaze swept the surrounding tree line, twin blades still poised in his hands in case a final ambush lurked in the shadows.

Thorne remained in his wolf form, his breathing rough as his nostrils flared while he searched the air for any lingering scent of enemies.

Lyra stood nearby with her sword lowered but not yet sheathed, eyes sharp despite exhaustion.

No one celebrated. No one cheered. War was never glory to warriors like them. War was survival. .

And for one single breath, the battlefield fell into real silence, no steel clashing, no wolves snarling, no dying screams. Only the wind brushes through broken branches and the faint crackle of something burning deeper within their territory.

Then it happened.

Ronan’s hand flew violently to his chest as if something unseen had struck him with brutal force.

A suffocating, catastrophic pain exploded through his heart, not a stab, not a wound from any blade, but something far deeper, something primal and wrong, as if invisible claws had sunk into his chest and were ripping something vital apart from the inside.

He staggered, the movement so unexpected that several nearby warriors froze in shock.

Thorne dropped to one knee immediately, he shifted back to his human form with a strangled growl clawing its way up his throat.

Lyra gasped sharply, her blade clattering from her hand as she clutched at her sternum.

Cassian hissed through his teeth while Darion’s face drained of color.

Around them, the reaction spread through the warriors like a wave. Some clutched their chests in confusion. Some collapsed outright. Others snarled as their wolves threatened to force a shift they struggled to contain.

No blade had touched them, nor had any enemy remained. The pain came from somewhere deeper, from the spiritual core that bound them all together.

The Luna Bond!

Ronan’s breathing turned ragged as his wolf howled in agony inside him, a sound that scraped against his soul. “No…” he whispered hoarsely, the name forming in his mind like a thunderclap.

"Kaelara..."

His mate... The realization slammed into him with crushing certainty.

Every member of the pack felt it, that tearing agony slicing through their chests, because Kaelara was not just his mate. She was their Luna. Their anchor. Their spiritual heart. And she was dying.

Darion straightened instantly despite the pain clawing through him, the seasoned general refusing to allow even a second of hesitation.

“Back to the pack!” he roared, his voice cutting through the paralysis like thunder splitting the sky.

That was his princess dying from what only the goddess knows. How could he rest?

So... They ran.

No orders about the dead. No time to gather the fallen or honor them. Their Luna was more precious than any honor.

Warriors shifted mid-stride, bones snapping as fur burst through skin and wolves erupted from human forms, sprinting through the forest at impossible speed.

Branches shattered under their bodies, leaves tore from trees, and the earth scattered beneath pounding paws.

Ronan ran at the front, his heart beating too fast, too wrong, the mate bond inside him feeling unstable, fractured, cracked like glass under unbearable pressure.

It wasn't broken completely yet. But dangerously close. He could still feel her faintly, like a flickering flame struggling against a violent wind.

And for the first time since this war had begun, real fear gripped him, not tactical worry, not battle strategy, but raw, suffocating fear that squeezed the air from his lungs.

“Hold on,” he breathed through clenched jaws as he ran. “Hold on, Kae.”

Behind him, Darion ran in silence, but inside the general's heart, something far darker was rising.

Because within that tearing pain, he had felt something else, something colder than injury. Something that felt like abandonment.

When they reached the pack grounds, chaos greeted them. It wasn't a scattered skirmish or a small breach.

It was utterly devastated. Homes burned in jagged patches, smoke twisting into the sky like signals of catastrophe while bodies lay scattered across pathways, enemy and Silvercrest alike.

The scent of blood was overwhelming, thick enough to choke on.

Ronan’s wolf snarled violently at the sight. A handful of enemies remained, some attempting to flee while others fought desperately in their final moments.

Darion’s voice boomed across the destruction. “Kill them all!”

There was no mercy now or restraint left within the warriors who descended upon the remaining invaders with ruthless efficiency.

Steel clashed again, claws tore again, and Ronan moved through the battlefield like a storm of violence, slaughtering anything that stood in his path with movements colder and sharper than before.

Cassian and Thorne fought like twin forces of destruction while Lyra’s blades flashed mercilessly, her eyes blazing with protective fury that burned far beyond ordinary battle rage.

Their .other rushed to some of the injured pack members and started healing them with the little healing powers inside her.

They didn’t ask where Kaelara was. They haven’t searched yet.

Because they knew her. If she were conscious, if she were breathing, she would demand the pack be secured before herself.

So they finished it. Every threat was eliminated, and every invader fell. Only when the last enemy collapsed into the dirt did silence finally return, though this time the quiet felt deeply wrong.

Darion turned slowly, his voice low and controlled as he asked the only question that mattered. “Where is she? Where's my daughter?!”

A trembling warrior stepped forward, armor cracked and hands shaking as he pointed toward the healer’s quarters. “She’s there… Luna Kaelara… she…” His throat closed, and the rest of the words refused to come as tears fell freely from his eyes.

Ronan was already moving. He didn’t run or sprint.

The world blurred around him as the healer’s hall doors slammed open against the walls beneath the force of his entrance.

The metallic scent of blood filled the air so heavily that it felt suffocating.

Candles flickered weakly along the walls while healers rushed frantically between cots filled with injured warriors.

And at the center of the room, Kaelara lay on a wooden table. Her armor had been cut away, leaving her body covered in far too much crimson.

The wound beneath her ribs was deep and dark, still bleeding slowly despite the pressure applied to it.

Wolf ’sbane!

Elowen ran to her and her hands immediately glowed faintly as she pressed them against her daughter’s side while whispering ancient incantations under her breath, her voice trembling with exhaustion and fear as sweat poured down her pale face.

Her healing glow flickered weakly. Damn! She had already healed too many tonight.

Darion stepped beside the table and his entire body went rigid. For a man who had faced death countless times on countless battlefields, this sight broke something inside him.

His daughter. His warrior. His Luna. So still. How is that even possible? He knew how strong his daughter was.

“Kaelara…” Lyra whispered from behind him, her voice fragile. That was her baby sister lying there, bleeding.

Thorne stopped breathing for a moment as Cassian’s jaw clenched so tightly a vein pulsed in his temple.

Ronan entered last. And in that moment, Kaelara’s lashes fluttered faintly. She was not fully awake, not fully conscious, but she was aware.

Even through the scent of blood she could smell them, her family, her pack, her mate.

Her fingers twitched weakly against the wooden table as she str,uggled to move. She could not lift her head. She could not speak. But slowly, painfully, she dragged her hand across the wood.

Searching for him, the only person she needed the most.

Instinct guided her even through the haze of death for her Mate.

Even at death’s door, her wolf reached for him.

Ronan stepped forward, and his blood ran cold looking at his mate.

Just then, a soft whimper broke the room’s fragile silence.

“Ronan…”

Selene sat on the floor nearby, looking fragile and distressed, her white dress lightly stained with blood that clearly was not hers, while her younger brother Winston hovered beside her protectively.

Selene clutched her arm dramatically. “It hurts… It hurt so badly...”

Ronan’s head turned instantly toward her. “Selene!”

Without hesitation he moved past the table, past Kaelara, and knelt in front of Selene instead, cradling her face gently. “Selene! Are you injured? Where? Let me see.”

The room froze completely.

Kaelara’s fingers remained suspended in the air, trembling as they waited for the touch that never came.

The space beside her remained empty and cold. Her heart did not shatter loudly. It shattered quietly... Again.

Darion’s jaw tightened so hard it nearly cracked.

Thorne took one step forward before Cassian caught his arm and held him back.

Lyra looked ready to scream and slit Selene’s throat once and for all.

Elowen’s chanting faltered for a brief second before she forced herself to continue.

The Luna of Silvercrest lay bleeding out on a healer’s table. And her Alpha had walked past her... towards the one person whom the Luna was dying for.

How cruel?!