LOGINHe spoke first, his tone low but firm enough to carry. “We can wait,” he said. “Children will come when they’re meant to. The Pack already has its heart.” The room stilled for a breath. Mara looked over her shoulder, her hands still sunk in flour, her eyes soft and startled. “You mean me?” she asked
LILAThe house woke before dawn. Old wood shifted, the hearth whispered, and the air felt different—alive again. I stood at the foot of the stairs when I heard them coming. Two sets of steps, uneven from the road, but in rhythm all the same. When the door opened, cold air rushed through the hall. Ga
“I thought I had to be perfect,” she said. “Every step, every word. Like one mistake would make them lose faith in me.”“Then let them,” I said. “Let them see we bleed too. Let them see what real looks like.”Her eyes lifted toward the sky, catching the first streaks of gold between the branches. “T
GAVINHer breath came out in bursts, sharp enough to cut. She pressed her palm to her mouth, like the words might spill if she didn’t hold them in. I moved before I thought, closing the space, catching her hands in mine. Her fingers were cold and damp, her pulse racing under my thumb.“I can’t be wh
GAVINThe scent hit me before I saw the gate—hers, faint and fading, scattered by wind. I caught it the second I stepped into the hall, and everything in me snapped to attention. The council chamber still echoed in my head, the droning voices, the talk of territory lines and alliance disputes. I had
MARAI knelt beside a pool fed by a narrow stream. Moonlight rippled across its surface, silver on black. My reflection flickered there, the same face that wore the Luna’s mask every day, only softer now—bare, unsure, alive. I cupped my hands in the water and let it run down my wrists. The cold snap
MARAI stood in the middle of the room, staring at the space he’d just left. The Moon Garden stretched below the window, silver petals glinting faintly in the dark. From here, it looked peaceful—too peaceful for what had just been said. I pressed my palm against the glass, the coolness grounding me.
MARAAfternoon light cut across the marble floor in long silver bands of the west corridor, each one catching the dust as it drifted upward. I moved through the quiet gallery with a kind of reverence, tracing my fingertips along the frames of portraits that lined both walls. The faces of old Lunas a
Gavin stepped in behind me, the faint sound of bare feet against stone. He carried two cups of tea, steam curling upward like whispers. He handed one to me, then crossed the room to place the other beside Mara. The scent of herbs—chamomile, honey, mint—cut through the faint chill.“You stayed up,” h
The house felt colder that night. The fire in the hearth burned low, leaving a faint red glow against the stone. I sat by the window, knees drawn close, watching the half-moon climb over the ridge. It looked like a coin, balanced between light and dark, waiting to fall. Gavin’s voice carried faintly







