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The Alpha’s Betrayal
The Bloodmoon Pack’s ceremonial gathering was supposed to be the happiest night of Lyra Everwood’s life.
The grand hall, built from dark oak and ancient stone, was alive with energy. Golden chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, their flickering flames casting warm light over the crowd. The scent of roasted meat and sweet honeywine filled the air as pack members whispered and laughed, their excitement crackling like an electric current.
Tonight was the Mating Ceremony—a sacred event where the Moon Goddess revealed fated mates. It was the night dreams came true, where wolves found their other halves, their soul bonds.
For years, Lyra had imagined this moment. She wasn’t an Alpha’s daughter, nor a warrior, but she had hoped. She had prayed that she would find the one who would love her unconditionally.
And then—she felt it.
A shiver raced down her spine. A heat curled in her stomach, spreading like wildfire through her veins.
Her wolf stirred.
Her head snapped up, and her breath caught in her throat.
The scent hit her like a tidal wave.
It was intoxicating—rich, earthy, laced with dominance and power. A scent that sent a pulse of recognition through her very soul.
Her mate.
Her gaze locked onto the towering figure near the entrance of the hall.
Alpha Damien Blackwood.
The most powerful Alpha in the region.
His dark eyes widened slightly as their bond flared to life between them. She saw the golden flecks in his irises shimmer for a brief moment before his expression hardened.
He could feel it, too.
The room fell into silence as the energy shifted. Every wolf in the hall sensed the mate bond snapping into place.
The murmurs began.
"The Alpha found his mate…"
"Wait—look at her wrist!" "No… it can’t be!"Confused, Lyra followed their stares and glanced down at her own wrist.
The silver insignia.
A strange marking she had been born with. A birthmark unlike any other—a swirling silver design, almost glowing under the candlelight.
Her mother had always told her it was nothing. But now…
Now, the room was filled with fear.
"She bears the mark!" someone whispered, their voice trembling.
"The cursed one!" another spat. "Her blood will bring ruin to us all!"Lyra’s heart pounded. What were they saying?
She turned back to Damien, searching for reassurance, for anything that could explain this.
But his face was unreadable.
Then Serena, his Beta and closest advisor, leaned in and whispered something in his ear.
Damien’s jaw clenched. His hands balled into fists at his sides.
And then, his voice rang clear and cold through the hall.
"I, Alpha Damien Blackwood, reject you as my mate."
Lyra’s world shattered.
A physical pain tore through her chest, white-hot and unbearable. The mate bond cracked like fragile glass, splitting apart, leaving her breathless.
She gasped, stumbling backward, her vision blurring.
No. No, this wasn’t happening.
Damien took a slow step forward, towering over her, his presence suffocating.
"You are hereby exiled from the Bloodmoon Pack."
A stunned silence followed.
Then came chaos.
Before she could react, strong hands grabbed her arms. The pack’s guards. Their grips like iron, their faces void of sympathy.
"No—please!" she cried, struggling against them. "Damien, please!"
Her voice broke on his name.
But he didn’t even look at her.
Not once.
Tears blurred her vision as the guards dragged her toward the packhouse doors. She twisted, fought, but it was pointless.
The last thing she saw before the doors slammed shut behind her—
Was the pack celebrating.
As if her existence had never mattered at all.
Whispers That Wear a Crown The dreams began that very night. Aria didn’t so much fall asleep as she slipped into it—like sinking beneath water that seemed calm on the surface. The Moon hung full outside her window, casting a silver light that pooled across the stone floor, too bright to ignore. It was too quiet. She found herself in a place she recognized instantly. The old training grounds. But something was off. The trees loomed taller, their branches twisting unnaturally inward. The sky above wasn’t black—it was a swirling gray, like a storm caught in a standstill. “Rowan?” she called out. Her voice echoed, thin and far away. No response. She turned—and froze. Her mother stood just a few steps away. Alive. Whole. Unharmed. Exactly as Aria remembered her from childhood memories that were never meant to exist. “Aria,” her mother said softly, smiling. “You look tired.” Aria’s heart pounded violently against her ribs. “This isn’t real.” Her mot
When the World Pushes BackThe first attack came just before dawn broke.Aria sensed it before the warning horns blared.It wasn’t just a sound or a smell—it was a pressure, sharp and sudden, like the very air around Silvercrest was tightening. Her chest tightened as she stepped out onto the balcony, silver light flickering softly along her veins.Rowan was right there with her in a heartbeat. “Borders,” he said. “West ridge.”The warning horns blared a moment later.Not panic—discipline. The pack moved as one, warriors already shifting, sentries taking their places along the stone walls. This wasn’t chaos.This was retaliation.Aria closed her eyes for a moment, grounding herself. So this is how it starts.By the time they reached the western ridge, the attackers were already in sight—wolves emerging from the treeline in organized lines. Not rogues. Not scattered.Pack warriors.Banners rose behind them—symbols of three allied territories that Aria recognized instantly.Rowan
The Cost of Command The silence that followed the Moon’s judgment was anything but peaceful. It was filled with terror. Aria stood in the heart of the shattered Council chamber, the silver glow slowly fading from her skin, her heartbeat still resonating with the weight of her actions. The ancient sigils, now dimmed, were etched into the stone—a stark reminder that the old order hadn’t just been challenged; it had been obliterated. The High Speaker remained on his knees, his breath shallow, hands trembling against the cold floor. The other Council members around him avoided Aria’s gaze, their centuries of arrogance stripped away by fear. “You’ve crossed a line that can’t be uncrossed,” the Speaker rasped. Aria looked down at him. “There was never a line,” she replied softly. “Only the lies you called law.” She turned away before he could say anything back. Behind her, the chamber doors creaked open. Rowan stepped inside. The moment his eyes landed on her, reli
The First Bloodline The summons came at dawn. Not through a messenger. Not via a letter. But from the Moon itself. Aria sensed it even before her eyes fluttered open—a sharp tug deep within her, a hum in her veins that carried both urgency and a sense of foreboding. The silver glow beneath her skin flared for a moment, hot enough to take her breath away. She shot upright. Rowan was already awake. “You felt it,” he said in a low voice. She nodded. “It wasn’t just a call.” He swung his legs off the bed, now fully alert. “Then what was it?” Aria pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the echo still resonating through her bones. “A gathering,” she replied. “Of blood.” Rowan froze. “Bloodlines?” “Yes.” The word felt heavy on her tongue. Selene had mentioned it only once—ancient families connected not by land, but by power bestowed directly from the Moon. Most had been wiped out. Some had been silenced. Others had been twisted into weapons by the High Council.
When the Moon Chooses War The pack didn’t sleep that night. Aria felt it the moment she stepped back into the territory—the restless pacing, the hushed conversations that fell silent as she walked by, the air thick with a mix of anticipation and fear. Wolves could sense war just like prey could feel a storm brewing. It buzzed beneath their skin. As she walked alongside Rowan through the courtyard, she held her posture steady and kept her expression calm. But inside, everything was a whirlwind. The High Council had drawn a line in the sand. And for the first time in generations, Luna had crossed it without bowing her head. “Council scouts have fully withdrawn,” Rowan said quietly as they ascended the steps to the war hall. “But not too far. They’re keeping an eye on us.” “Let them,” Aria replied. “They’re just waiting to see how I’ll react.” Rowan shot her a glance. “And how will you react?” She paused before answering. Inside the war hall, the elders and comm
The Line That Cannot Be Crossed The night air felt like ash on her tongue. Aria stood at the edge of the watchtower balcony, the wind playfully tugging at her hair as the pack below moved in tense, restless patterns. Torches flickered along the stone paths, their flames dancing like anxious hearts. There was no laughter. No one dared to speak above a whisper. The pack sensed it. War was no longer a distant shadow. It was here. Behind her, Rowan leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, his expression as hard as stone. He had been silent for too long—an Alpha’s silence, the kind that hinted at decisions being forged in blood. “They’ve crossed the eastern boundary,” he finally said. “Three scouting units. All bearing High Council banners.” Aria’s jaw clenched. “So Morian wasn’t just bluffing,” she murmured. “No,” Rowan replied, his tone grim. “He never does.” Aria turned to face him, the moonlight catching the faint silver glow beneath her skin—a glow that ha







