Chapter Five

A Luna’s Promise

Aurelia’s POV

When I was younger, I used to believe life unfolded exactly as we imagined it would.

Study hard. Be kind. Love deeply. One day, I’d stand beside the man I loved. I would wear the Luna’s crest with pride, and spend the rest of my life protecting the only home I’d ever known.

It sounded so simple.

Maybe that was the beauty of being young. You still believed forever was a promise instead of a privilege.

In Silvercrest, the Elders had a lot of prophecies that were passed down from generations to generations, but there was one that they always carried like a warning for everyone to be vigilant and ready.

I had heard the prophecy countless times before, yet somehow, the Great Hall always fell silent whenever the High Elder recited it beneath the Moon Goddess’ altar.

His voice echoed through the chamber, calm and unwavering, as though the words had been carved into his soul long before they were ever written on parchment.

“A wolf unheard is not a wolf unborn. The silence is not absence, but waiting.”

“When the Blood Moon rises, the one buried before her time shall awaken beneath its crimson light. She will return not as the girl they mourned, but as the truth they feared.”

I felt myself shivering at his words. They felt heavy…

“The crown promised to her will be taken, yet no throne shall ever define her. The path chosen by fate will be stained with betrayal, and only when the forgotten wolf finds her voice will the lies of generations be undone.”

The hall remained quiet even after the Elder lowered the ancient scroll. I glanced around and found the warriors listening with quiet respect, while the younger children looked utterly confused.

To me, it was nothing more than another old story—one of many legends passed down through the generations.

I never imagined that, years later, I would remember every single word. Or that the prophecy had never been a story at all.

It had been waiting for someone to live it.

*Two Years Before the Blood Moon

If you asked anyone in Silvercrest what made a great Luna, you’d get a different answer every time.

Some would say strength. Others would say wisdom. The warriors admired courage. The elders valued patience, and the children simply wanted someone who remembered all their names.

I wasn’t sure which answer was right. Maybe all of them were. Or maybe none of them were.

That morning, I followed Luna Helena through the village as she made her usual rounds. She visited every corner of Silvercrest without fail—not because she had to, but because she wanted to.

She stopped to speak with an elderly omega whose roof had begun to leak after a week of heavy rain.

She knelt beside a little boy who had scraped his knee chasing his friends, wiping away his tears before sending him off with a smile.

She thanked the women working in the kitchens by name. She even carried baskets when the vendors insisted they could manage on their own.

No one asked her to do those things. She simply did.

“You’ve been staring at me all morning,” Luna Helena said with a quiet laugh.

“I have not.” I pouted.

“You have.” She glanced at me over her shoulder. “So… what are you trying to figure out?”

I hesitated, but when I looked at her, it felt like I had no choice but to admit the truth.

“What does it feel like?”

“To be Luna?” I nodded and she was silent for a moment. Finally, she smiled. “It feels like belonging to everyone.

I frowned.

“That sounds exhausting.”

“It is.” She laughed softly. “But it’s also the greatest privilege I’ve ever known.”

We reached the edge of the village where a small cottage stood tucked beneath the pines. A young widow answered the door with two children hiding behind her skirts.

Their home was modest. The table inside had been repaired so many times it barely stood straight.

Helena greeted them as though they were old friends. No pity. No formality. Only kindness.

She handed the woman a sack of flour, dried herbs, and fresh bread.

“I thought the kitchens had extra.”

The woman lowered her head, her eyes shimmering with gratitude.

“Luna, you didn’t have to do this.”

“I know.” Helena smiled. “But I wanted to.”

As we walked away, I couldn’t stop thinking about the children.

“They looked so happy to see you.”

“They weren’t happy to see me.” Helena adjusted the basket on her arm. “They were happy because someone remembered them.”

The words stayed with me long after we returned to the packhouse.

That evening, I found myself sitting beneath the old oak overlooking the valley. Cassian found me there, as he always seemed to.

“What are you thinking about?”

I looked out over Silvercrest. “The Luna.”

“My mother?”

I nodded. “I used to think being Luna meant standing beside the Alpha during ceremonies.”

“And now?”

“I think it means standing beside everyone.”

Cassian didn’t answer right away. Instead, he sat beside me, following my gaze toward the village below.

The lanterns had begun to glow one by one, scattered across Silvercrest like stars that had fallen to earth.

“I think you’d make a wonderful Luna,” he said quietly.

I smiled. I loved hearing it from him.

“You have to say that.”

“I don’t.” He turned to look at me. “I say it because I’ve watched you.” He admitted. “When the children cry, they look for you. When the elders need help, they ask for you. When someone is hurting…”

I glanced at him.

“They never have to search very far before they find you.”

Heat rose to my cheeks.

“I’ve never even shifted.”

Cassian’s smile didn’t falter. “Maybe that’s why you don’t understand.”

“Understand what?”

He reached down and picked up a fallen feather, letting it drift away on the breeze.

“A wolf can make someone stronger.” His eyes met mine. “But it can’t make them kinder.”

For a while, neither of us spoke. We simply watched the lights of Silvercrest flicker below us.

I remember thinking how peaceful everything looked from that hill. How safe. How permanent.

I promised myself that day that, if the Moon Goddess ever deemed me worthy of becoming Luna, I wouldn’t wear the title like a crown.

I’d wear it like a promise.

Looking back now, that promise never changed.

Only the girl who made it did.