Dike gave a short,quiet order to his scouts,and before the sun had crossed the ridge,everything was arranged.
Seven days later,Savina was finally free.
Her soul-bond with Myron Lestrange was broken by the decree of the Moon Council.
That night,pain devoured her—sharp,raw,and unending.
She didn’t seek the healers’herbs,nor did she drink the draught of numbness.
She wanted to remember this agony,carve it into her bones—the price of loving the wrong wolf.
She drifted in and out of restless dreams until the next dawn,when an enraged voice tore through the den.
Myron had come to confront her.
“Savina!”he roared.“You’re the one who denounced Helene before the Healers’Circle,aren’t you?She’s been suspended because of it.Are you pleased with yourself now?”
Her head pounded,her body hot with fever.Dazed,she forced out,“It wasn’t me.”
He let out a cold laugh.“Still lying?Pathetic.I’m sick of you.”
Before she could defend herself,Helene entered—delicate and pitiful as ever.
“Myron,let it go,”she said softly.“She just thinks I stole you.It’s my fault.”
Her false meekness only deepened his pity for her—and his disgust toward Savina.
“If you’ve done wrong,you’ll pay for it,”he said coldly.“No exceptions.”
Savina stared at him,unblinking.
Seven years together—and not once had he truly believed her.
Helene leaned into his arms,her eyes gleaming with victory.
“Myron,”she murmured sweetly,“there is one way I might regain my healer’s rank.The Circle is testing a new herb mixture—dragonbane and moonroot—but they need a wolf to endure its venom.If Savina’s willing,she’d be perfect.”
Savina’s face went pale.
Before she could speak,Myron answered for her.
“Fine.Send her.”
Savina snapped,voice cracking.“Myron,are you mad?Dragonbane is poison!You’d risk my life for her?”
Helene raised a brow,smiling faintly.“Such harsh words.Poison can also heal.You’d be helping the pack.What a noble deed.”
Savina seized a cushion from the seat and hurled it at them.“If it’s so noble,then you drink it!”
Helene burst into tears,trembling like a wronged maiden.
Myron’s eyes turned to stone.He called the guards.
“Take her to the alchemy caves.She will not leave until the trials are complete.”
Then,coldly:“This is what you owe Helene.”
As he turned away,something in Savina cracked.
How cruel could one wolf be?
Within the alchemy caves,she fought.She refused to drink their brews.
Each escape ended the same—dragged back,shackled in silver,wrists and ankles bound like a beast.
When she resisted,they shocked her with storm-rods until her body convulsed.
The healers there were no healers—they were monsters.
On the first day,they injected moonbane into her veins and watched her writhe,taking notes as if she were no more than a creature to dissect.
On the second,they flooded her body with new concoctions to test her endurance.
By the third day,her mind was unraveling.Then she saw Myron enter.
She called his name,desperate,reaching for him.
He looked down at her,expression cold.
“If she can’t survive this,”he said,“then it’s her fate.”
Those words extinguished the last flicker of her soul.
She stopped begging.
By the fifth day—the day she was meant to be freed—Savina appeared whole,but inside,her body was ruined.
As she was leaving,she overheard two alchemists whispering.
“Lord Lestrange’s cub won’t last much longer.Should we call the healers?”
“Of course not,”the other replied.“If we do,all this will be exposed.It’s one life.If he dies,he dies.”
Savina froze.
Her claws dug into her palms until they bled.
Alonzo…
She searched through every tunnel until she found him—small,still,his arms mottled with bruises from countless injections.
Biting back tears,she gathered him in her arms and ran.
Through the forest paths she fled,her breath breaking,clutching her cub to her chest.But when she reached the stone bridge leading to the healers’valley,a barricade blocked her path.
“Please,”she begged the guards,“let us through!My son is dying!”
One of them lowered his head.“Forgive me,my lady.This road is sealed.Lord Lestrange has claimed it for Miss Helene’s Moon-Day celebration.No one may pass.”
Her heart stopped.
The cub’s breaths were shallow,fading.
“Mother…”he whispered,voice soft as air.“Am I dying?Hold me again…”
Savina broke.“No,my baby,please—just a little longer.I’ll get you help.Please don’t leave me…”
She clutched him tightly,but his body grew cold in her arms.
He looked toward the sky,where fireworks of enchanted flame bloomed across the dark.
“Mother…the lights are so pretty.But I won’t see them again.”
His lips trembled.“I’m cold.Hold me tighter…”
Savina screamed,sobbing until her voice was nothing but hoarse air.
“My baby—please,please don’t sleep—don’t leave me,you’re all I have…”
But the small body in her arms went still.
At that very moment,as the night sky burst with the golden fire of Myron’s celebration for Helene,their cub drew his last breath.
Savina raised her tear-streaked face to the shining heavens,and her sorrow burned into hatred.
Her son was gone.
And she would never forgive Myron—or Helene.
