CHAPTER 3: THE AWAKENING

Selene's POV

Days turned into weeks, and the ache inside me dulled—but it never truly disappeared. Pain, I learned, doesn’t leave quietly. It lingers, like a ghost in the corners of your soul, waiting to be noticed again.

The Crescent Wolves treated me kindly. They didn’t ask for my past or my name; they simply called me the stray from the Blood Moon. I didn’t correct them. Maybe it was easier that way—to be nameless, faceless, free from the weight of who I was.

Mira, the healer, took me under her wing. She was stern but gentle, the kind of woman whose silence carried more wisdom than words ever could. I spent my mornings grinding herbs, helping her tend to wounds, listening to her hum old lullabies as she worked.

It was peaceful, almost enough to make me forget. Almost.

But every night, when the moon rose, my chest would tighten, and I’d feel it again—the faint pull of the bond. It was weaker now, but it still existed. That invisible thread between us refused to break completely.

Sometimes I wondered if he felt it too.

One evening, Mira found me standing by the riverbank again, staring at the reflection of the moon rippling in the water.

“You miss him,” she said, not as a question, but as a truth.

I didn’t deny it. “I wish I didn’t.”

She sat beside me, the old wood of the dock creaking under her weight. “The bond between mates doesn’t fade easily, child. Even when broken, it leaves scars. But scars mean healing, not weakness.”

Her words sank into me like a slow warmth. Healing, not weakness.

Maybe she was right.

After that night, I began to train again. Not as a Luna, but as a warrior. Every morning, I joined the Crescent warriors in their drills. My body ached, but the pain was cleansing—it stripped away the softness that once made me easy to break. My movements became sharper, my instincts quicker. I learned to fight not for anyone else, but for myself.

And for the first time, the fire inside me wasn’t about love or loyalty. It was about freedom.

Arden’s POV

It had been twenty-two days since she left.

The pack still functioned as it always had—wolves trained, patrols guarded, meetings were held—but everything felt… empty. The halls echoed with silence, the meals tasted dull. Even the air smelled different, thinner somehow.

Lyra moved into the Luna’s quarters within a week. The pack accepted her because I told them to, but I could see the unease in their eyes. The servants still hesitated before calling her Luna. The warriors avoided her gaze.

At first, I ignored it. I told myself it didn’t matter. But one night, I walked into the kitchen and saw one of the maids quietly preparing tea.

“Whose is that?” I asked.

She froze. “Yours, Alpha. It’s—”

But I knew before she finished. The smell of chamomile and honey filled the air. Selene’s tea.

The one she used to drink when her chest hurt. The one I’d secretly learned to make for her.

The maid looked terrified, waiting for me to snap. Instead, I just nodded. “You can leave it there.”

When she left, I stood alone, staring at the cup. My reflection rippled on the surface of the tea. For a long time, I didn’t move. I just watched the steam fade away—like her.

Lyra noticed my silence more each day. “You’re still thinking about her,” she said once, her voice sharp as broken glass.

“She was my Luna,” I replied. “The pack loved her.”

“You mean you did.”

I didn’t answer. But her words sank deep.

That night, when I closed my eyes, I dreamt of her again. She was walking through a forest of silver leaves, her hair catching the light, her back turned to me. No matter how fast I ran, I couldn’t reach her.

When I woke, my chest ached in the same place where our bond used to burn bright. It was faint now—almost gone—but not dead.

And I realized something terrifying.

No matter how much I tried to convince myself otherwise, I still felt her.

Selene’s POV

Winter came early in the Crescent lands. Frost painted the edges of the trees, and the river turned to glass. I spent my days gathering herbs, my nights reading old texts about the Moon Goddess. Mira had an entire shelf dedicated to legends and prophecies, and one story caught my eye.

It spoke of the Twice-Bonded. Wolves who were destined to meet again in another life, or after the breaking of a false bond. The Goddess, it said, never truly made mistakes—only lessons.

The words haunted me.

Could it be that Arden and I were part of that cruel design? Or was it just another lie I wanted to believe?

“Don’t let your past define your purpose,” Mira told me one evening as she handed me a dagger. “Forge your own fate before it forges you.”

I took her advice to heart. I trained harder. I learned the ways of herbs, healing, and battle. Slowly, the pain of rejection became fuel. Each scar, each ache, each sleepless night—it all became part of the woman I was becoming.

There were still moments when the memory of him caught me off guard. The smell of smoke reminded me of the nights he sat by the fire; the sound of thunder made me think of his voice—deep and steady, a storm in itself.

But I didn’t let it break me anymore.

Instead, I whispered to the Moon, “If he was never meant to stay, then let me learn why he came.”

Arden’s POV

I found her scarf in the old library.

It was tucked between two books, as though she’d been reading and forgot to return. The scent had faded, but I’d know it anywhere. Lavender and rain.

Holding it felt like holding a ghost.

The pack had started to whisper—about how distracted I’d become, how our borders were weaker, how Lyra’s presence unsettled the elders. She wanted power, but she didn’t have Selene’s grace. She ruled through charm and threat, not loyalty.

And the wolves knew. They missed their Luna.

So did I.

I caught myself wondering where she was, if she was safe, if she hated me as much as I hated myself. Every night, the bond pulsed faintly—just enough to remind me that she was alive.

But it also reminded me of what I’d lost.

I stood on the balcony of the Alpha’s manor, the moon hanging low above the mountains. For the first time in my life, I prayed. Not for victory, not for strength, but for forgiveness.

If the Goddess was listening, I asked Her for a second chance—

not to love Selene again, but to deserve to.

Selene’s POV

The night of the first snow, I dreamed of him.

He was standing in the same garden where he broke me. But this time, his eyes weren’t cold. They were filled with something else—pain, maybe, or regret.

When I woke, the moonlight fell across my face, warm despite the chill. I felt the bond stir faintly, like the whisper of a heartbeat long thought gone.

I sat up, pressing a hand to my chest. “No,” I whispered. “Not again.”

But the Moon only glowed brighter, silent and knowing.

And deep inside, where I had buried the last of my love for him, something fragile began to stir.

Not forgiveness. Not yet.

But fate.