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Aria
The full moon is the only light shining down onto the altar. I can feel its light burning into my skin like a brand, and I wish I could shake the feeling of unease away. The pack is gathered in the clearing. Hundreds of eyes are fixated on me. Not the man standing beside me, but just me. My hands clench the hem of my ceremonial cloak, and the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth as I worry my bottom lip with my teeth.
Tonight is the night I become whole. It is the night I have been trained for my whole life. The night that I will become Luna of the Jasper Pack.
Riven stands across from me, his shoulders squared, his jaw set like he is annoyed by the ceremony. He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t hesitate. And yet my chest tightens with hope anyway. I hope that he will glance in my direction for just a moment to reassure me. Still, he keeps his eyes straight ahead, narrowed on a singular face in the crowd.
My step-sister, Morgan.
I turn my attention away from Riven and back to Alpha James. He raises his hands, silencing the murmurs of the crowd. “The moment has come,” he says, voice booming over the clearing. “Tonight, the bonds of the pack are honored. The fated mate of my son is revealed, and Aria Vale will become your new Luna.”
I step forward with my head held high. The air is thick with expectation, and every whisper feels amplified against the night air. I glance at Riven, and for one brief, foolish second, I think I see the man I fell in love with, the boy who promised me everything in secret, who told me my wolf, Violet, was the only one he ever wanted. That boy is gone.
“Aria Vale,” Alpha James interrupts my thoughts, “step before your fated mate.”
I do. My legs feel heavier than they should, weighed down by a mixture of fear and anticipation. Every eye follows me, every breath from the crowd another weight pressing into my chest. I force my spine straight and my chin up. I will not crumble here. Not yet.
Riven doesn’t move toward me. He doesn’t even glance at me. Instead, his gaze never leaves Morgan’s face. She’s standing there, smiling, perfectly poised, and undeserving of the devastation she’s about to cause. Gods, I hate her.
My stomach twists into a knot. My claws itch to extend beneath the fabric of my gloves. This shouldn’t be happening. Violet rises, growling low in my throat, the instinct to claim, to fight, to take what’s mine burning hot. But I fight the feeling down. I’m surrounded. Every move is public. Every reaction witnessed. I cannot lash out. Not now.
The silence stretches. Long. Agonizing. And then, finally, Riven speaks.
“I cannot choose Aria Vale as my mate.”
The words hit me like a hammer to my chest. My knees tremble, but I force myself to remain standing. The crowd gasps, a collective intake of air that only amplifies the ache in my chest.
Alpha James clears his throat awkwardly. “You choose to go against the bond set forth by the Moon Goddess?”
Riven smiles in Morgan’s direction. “I do. I choose Morgan Vale to be my mate.”
Morgan curtsies, her grin soft, almost innocent, but I don’t see her. I only see him. My mate. My supposed mate. My betrayer.
He moves away from me with calculated steps. The pack separates so he can reach her. My stomach turns, and my hand reaches out for him.
“Riven…” I start, voice trembling, trying to make him meet my eyes. But he doesn’t. He never does. “You.”
“You are not my mate.”
There is no hesitation in his words. No remorse, no acknowledgment of my heart breaking in two. Only my humiliation.
“Riven, please,” I beg.
“Don’t.” His voice is smooth and final. The pain in his tone is not for me; it is for the decorum of the ceremony. He steps to her side, offering her his hand. I watch with my mouth agape as he leads her to the altar. She stands by his side, beaming at the crowd. She stands in the place I had dreamed of taking, and my heart twists into something unrecognizable.
The pack watches. Whispers curl like smoke around me, eyes darting between the three of us. Some are sympathetic, others hungry for gossip, some amused by my disgrace. I swallow the bile that rises in my throat. Violet rumbles in my chest, a growl that I swallow because I cannot give them the satisfaction of seeing me broken.
I want to scream. I want to claw at him, to make him feel the raw, ripping pain he’s etched into me. But I do nothing. I bite my lip until the taste of blood mixes with the acid of my stomach, and I force myself to step back.
Alpha James gestures to the moon, and the crowd begins to shift, breaking the moment like shattered glass. Murmurs fill the night. I feel their eyes on me, some curious, some pitying, some silently judging my restraint. But I do not move to them. My gaze remains on him. Riven doesn’t meet my eyes. He doesn’t even glance my way again. His attention is solely on Morgan.
My step-sister who has taken everything from me.
And in that moment, standing under the silver wash of moonlight, I understand something devastating: the world I knew is gone. The pack I thought was mine to share will never recognize me as I hoped. The future I imagined is gone. All that remains is a jagged scar through the center of my chest, a hollow ache that refuses to be soothed.
I step backward again, feeling every eye follow me, but I do not falter. Violet is trembling beneath my skin, but under the fear and the humiliation burns a stubborn spark. A piece of me that I had buried a long time ago when I started my Luna training. It rises to the surface, reminding me that I am not dead yet. I may be broken, but I am not gone. And though every muscle in me screams to run, to collapse, to cry, I will not give them the satisfaction.
I turn, letting the ceremonial robes slip from my shoulders and pool on the ground. I walk toward the edge of the clearing. Every step is agony, every breath a betrayal of the life I thought I had. The pack parts, whispers trailing behind me. I hear snippets, “poor girl,” “she’ll recover,” “she always knew she’d lose him,” “she can’t match her sister’s beauty,” but none of it gets under my skin. It is as if I do not exist here anymore.
I reach my cabin at the edge of the forest, chest heaving, hands trembling. The door swings open before I can knock. The familiar scent of home hits me and does nothing to soothe the raw emptiness. I wander through the cabin, and it feels different, like someone has been here.
And then, on my bed, I see it. A small black envelope, sealed with a wax emblem I do not recognize. It is almost insignificant against the chaos of my emotions, yet somehow it commands attention. I pick it up, feeling the weight of it in my hands. And for the first time tonight, my heartbeat stirs with something other than despair.
I break the seal.
“Survive the Game. Win what your heart desires most. Will you accept the challenge?”
I drop the letter back onto the bed, staring at it as if it were alive. My chest tightens again, not with humiliation, not with heartbreak, but with a spark I haven’t felt in since I first found Riven with my step-sister. A spark that whispers I still have something left to fight for.
Violet growls softly in my chest, low and warning, but I feel it stir to life. I have nothing left to lose.
And maybe, just maybe… that will be enough.
AriaThe forest doesn’t start so much as it swallows.One step past what used to be the hall of mirrors, and the ground changes. The stone turns to moss, and the air thrums against my chest like a breath. The trees rise out of fog, tall and pale, with their trunks smooth as bone. They stretch up forever, vanishing into light that isn’t sunlight at all. Every leaf glows faintly, and the sound of the wind is wrong. It whispers names instead of rustling the leaves.The others fan out behind me. No one speaks. The Herald’s command still echoes in my head: Return with one rabbit and only one.White shapes flicker in the mist ahead. Too quick to follow.Violet presses forward under my skin, scenting the air, trying to catch the scent of rabbits, but it is impossible. Everything smells alive here. It is too strong and too overwhelming to distinguish between them.Kael ends up beside me again. Of course he does.“Lovely morning for a murder,” he says quietly.“Go hunt your own rabbit.”“Tem
AriaA bell wakes me the way fear does, with no mercy.It starts as a single, low vibration that rattles the floorboards beneath my bed, then grows until it thrums through the walls and into my bones. I bolt upright, heart hammering, breath fogging the air. The castle is never quiet, not really, but this sound feels deliberate. It is a summons. The Game has begun.I dress quickly. The clothes I laid out last night are still damp from the forest’s humidity that somehow seeps into every room: a leather vest, dark trousers, and boots that pinch my left heel. Everything is practical. I don’t need to be pretty. Not here.When I step into the corridor, other doors are opening too. Faces peer out, either bleary-eyed or tense. The vampire looks perfectly put together, of course. Elyra glides past like she’s been awake for hours, her white eyes bright with knowing. I fall in with the flow of footsteps, following the pulse of sound toward the mirrored hall.By the time we reach it, the bell’s
KaelI should let her walk away. That’s the rule. No interference, no favoritism, no attachments. But rules have never suited me, and Aria Vale already looks like one rule I’m going to break.She leaves the mirrored hall without looking back, shoulders tight, jaw set. The others drift off in clusters. The wolves are sniffing out alliances, the humans are whispering about the first trial, but she moves alone.The torches along the corridor flare as she passes, sparks licking higher as if the castle itself wants to light her way. The place likes her. Of course it does. The castle always did have impeccable taste.I follow at a distance, quietly, so I don’t startle her.“Following contestants again, are we?”Nyxara’s voice slides into my mind, sweet as honey and twice as sticky.“Just making sure she finds her room,” I murmur.“How noble. Or is this the part where you trip over your principles and fall in love again?”I roll my eyes. “You wound me. You know I don’t have principles.”
AriaThe mirrors breathe. At least, that’s what it feels like, the air pulsing soft and slow against my skin, the glass fogging and clearing as if exhaling. This castle is alive, and I don’t mean with energy. It is actually alive. I don’t know how to explain it, but I can feel it calling to me. I do my best to ignore it, but each shift of my back against the hard wall feels like a forbidden touch. I’ve been sitting on the cold floor of the hall for what feels like hours when the change comes.A low hum threads through the walls. Then, with a sound like distant thunder, a long table rises from the marble floor. One blink it isn’t there, the next it’s carved from black wood and set for twelve. Candles spark to life along its length, their flames silver instead of gold. Steaming platters appear filled with roasted meats, fruit glistening like jewels, and goblets filled to the brim.The smell is enough to make my stomach twist in protest and hunger all at once.Someone laughs nervou
AriaThe forest stills the moment I reach the clearing. I followed the map that appeared on the back of the invitation carefully, but there is nothing here. No archway, no castle, nothing. Just an empty clearing with decayed trees. I stomp my foot on the ground, mumbling a curse under my breath. Suddenly, the air begins to hum around me. Music, too low for human ears, fills the space, echoing in my head. Mist curls between the trees, glowing like silver, and when it parts, I see it. The heart of the veil. An arc of light that ripples like water. It is both beautiful and wrong, and most definitely calling my name. I pause a few feet away, my pulse pounding in my chest. The invitation’s words repeat in my mind: Survive the Game. Win what your heart desires most.I don’t know what that means exactly. I only know the bond still burns faintly beneath my skin, and I can’t live with it anymore. I can’t be reminded of what Riven promised and then stole away. If what is through that
KaelAnother batch of desperate souls staggers through the veil, and I can already tell they’re going to die. They always do.They stumble into the courtyard wide-eyed, clutching bags and weapons, like those will make a difference. I lean against one of the obsidian pillars overlooking the grand steps and let out a low whistle. The castle hums under my skin. It is alive, hungry for the souls of the contestants that won’t leave this place.“Here we go again,” I mutter.The air smells of fear and arrogance. Both have become familiar perfumes. Half of them are terrified, and the other half are assholes. This is the part I hate most, the arrival. And the hope they bring with them. Every year they look the same: warriors, lovers, cowards, killers. And every year, I have to pretend that one of them might survive long enough to set me free.They never do.“Are you enjoying the show, little wolf?”Her voice slides into my head like silk soaked in poison. Nyxara. The goddess who built this







