5|| What I Must Do

LEAH’S POV

From that single night onward, the warm home I had known turned into an icy prison. They didn't kick me out into the woods—that would have brought unwanted questions from neighboring packs.

Instead, they kept me like a dirty secret tucked away in the back of the house.

My old bedroom, the spacious second-floor room overlooking the garden, was stripped bare within twenty-four hours.

My herbal collections, my hand-drawn maps of local flora, my soft quilts—all of it was tossed into cardboard boxes and shoved into the narrow, drafty attic that used to be a storage room.

Willow was given my old room. No one asked if I was comfortable. No one asked if I needed help moving the heavy wooden trunk.

The treatment inside the house bled into the pack grounds almost overnight.

Even without a public declaration, whispered rumors spread through the Harvest Moon territory like dry brush catching a spark. People didn't know the exact story of the diary, but they knew Willow was living under Augustine's roof as his precious, long-lost blood. And they knew I had been demoted.

The pack members—people I had treated for fevers, guards I had cleaned wounds for—turned their backs the moment I walked past.

When I visited the pack dispensary to hand over my weekly harvest of dried herbs and blood-clotting moss, the senior healer, an elder beta named Marcus who had spent years guiding my studies, wouldn't even extend his hand to take the bundle.

He simply stared at the counter, his jaw tight.

"Leave it on the table, Bellmoore," he spat softly, using my new surname like an insult. "We have Willow assisting us with the central inventory now. We don't require your help in the main hall."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, setting the herbs down with trembling hands. "Marcus... I prepared these standard mixtures just like you taught me—"

"I said leave it," he snapped, his voice sharp enough to make me jump. "You shouldn't even be lingering around the healing hall. Go home."

I ran back to the house, my chest aching, only to find the front gate blocked by three young wolves from Leonardo's training squad. Boys I had shared meals with. Boys who used to laugh at my jokes.

"Look who's back," one of them sneered, leaning against the wooden post. "The imposter."

"Pity Captain Rosante had to waste eighteen years feeding a thief's brat," another muttered, crossing his arms. He deliberately shifted his weight, throwing a subtle wave of aggressive Beta aura toward me—just enough to make my knees go soft and unsteady. "You shouldn't even be breathing the same air as Willow."

I squeezed my eyes shut, clutching my empty herb basket against my ribs as I rushed past them, my head bowed so low my chin touched my collarbone. I heard their low, cruel laughter trailing behind me like a stain.

Even inside the house, I was a ghost.

Dinner was the worst. I was no longer allowed to sit at the long dining table. Bea would set a single plate of lukewarm scraps—gristle, hard bread, and leftover broth—on the small side counter near the pantry.

She said it was so I wouldn’t feel uncomfortable.

I remember sitting on a low wooden stool in the dark hallway, listening to the bright, cheerful sound of their laughter floating out from the dining room.

I heard Augustine praising Willow's delicate needlework. I heard Leonardo promising to take her riding near the eastern stream—the very stream where he used to teach me how to identify water mint.

I heard Bea whispering soft, motherly words that had once belonged entirely to me.

I gripped my small spoon, tears dripping silently into my watery soup, choking down every bite because my body was too weak to survive on nothing.

Then came the night before our departure.

I was packing my few remaining belongings into my trunk when the door to my small room clicked open. Father—Augustine—stepped inside. He didn't knock. He never knocked anymore.

His shadow fell long and heavy across my small bed.

"Augustine..." I whispered, instinctively shrinking back against the wall.

He walked over, his heavy boots sounding painfully loud on the bare floorboards. Without a word, he reached into his coat belt and drew a long, gleaming silver hunting blade—the very blade he used to cut open dead animals during pack hunts.

Before I could gasp, his strong Beta hand shot out, wrapping around my neck and pinning me against the wooden bedpost. The cold metal of the blade pressed directly under my jaw.

My breath hitched in my throat. My hands flew up to grasp his wrist, but his grip was like an iron band.

"Listen to me very carefully, Leah," he growled, his voice dropping to a terrifying, guttural rasp. His eyes were completely black with cold fury. "You are going to Eclipse Academy because the pack law demands it. But make no mistake, you are a shadow. A parasite living on my generosity."

The blade pressed a fraction deeper, sending a sting of pain down my throat.

"If you outshine Willow in a single exam," he whispered, his hot breath smelling of heavy cedar and tobacco, "if you embarrass her, if you make her shed a single tear, or if you dare utter a word about what happened in this house to the other pack heirs, I will personally drag you into the woods and cut your throat myself. Do you understand me?"

I couldn't speak. My air was cut off. I could only manage a frantic, desperate nod, tears spilling over my lashes and wetting his knife.

He released me abruptly. I collapsed onto the floorboards, clutching my neck and coughing violently as he turned his back and walked out, slamming the thin door behind him.

I lay on that cold floor for hours, crying until my head pounded so violently I thought my skull would crack open.

And then... Eclipse Academy.

The moment the name enters my mind, a violent shudder wracks my entire body.

Eclipse.

My hands fly up to my head, my fingers tangling frantically in my dark hair as I shake my head back and forth, again and again—a wild, helpless, frantic motion.

No. No, no, no.

I press my lips tightly together, my breathing coming out in terrified gasps as my eyes roll shut. The memories of that place—the cold stone corridors, the whispered taunts, the cruel traps set in the dark, the utter isolation of being hunted by peers from all four packs—press against the back of my eyes like needles.

The migraine violently spikes, threatening to tear my brain apart if I push any deeper into those dark months.

I shake my head frantically, violently, squeezing my eyes shut until silver sparks dance in the dark.

‘I don't want to remember it. I can't remember it. Please, Goddess, don't make me remember what happened at Eclipse.’

I drop my forehead down onto my knees, my breath coming out in shallow, terrified hitches. The memories of the academy are a toxic, festering mess of agony—so bad, so deeply horrific, that my mind actively recoils, shutting the doors and bolting them from the inside.

I don't want to go back. Every nerve in my body screams at me to run into the woods, to become a nameless rogue, to live on wild animals and sleep under the trees just to avoid setting foot on those grand stone steps ever again.

But I can’t.

I force my head up, my chest gasping for air as I stare at my trembling hands.

I have to go back.

If I run now, I remain the pathetic, frightened girl who choked on her own tears while they stole her life. If I run, I leave everything in Willow's hands.

The fire will still come for me eventually. The poison will still find its way into my veins.

Eclipse is where everything fell apart, yes—but it is also the only place where the four packs gather. It is the only place where power shifts, where secrets are traded, where a ‘villainess’ like me can find the knowledge and alliances I need to survive.

I have to face that hell again. There’s no other way.