The pain was not a sharp cut. It was a slow, agonizing dissolution, like molten silver being poured into my veins.
I gripped the edge of my bed, my knuckles turning white, as the old witch, Morana, began the incantation. Her voice was a low, rhythmic hum that vibrated in the very marrow of my bones.
The golden thread in my mind’s eye—the one I had nurtured with hope for three years—began to blacken.
I felt Albus’s presence in the back of my mind, a distant, fading spark. Usually, I could feel his heartbeat, his frantic worry for Celeste, his irritation with me. Now, it was being muffled by a thick, cold fog.
Suddenly, a jolt of pure electricity slammed through my chest. I gasped, my shoulder hitting the bed’s wood with a bone-jarring thud.
"It is done," Morana whispered, her eyes filled with a mixture of pity and awe. "The thread is severed. You are unbound, Diana of no pack."
I looked down at my shoulder. The faint, unformed mark—the jagged lines of a wolf’s tooth he had never bothered to sink deep enough—was gone. In its place was a smooth, pale scar.
I stood up, my legs feeling like they belonged to a stranger. I expected to feel broken. I expected to feel the "half-soul" agony Morana had warned me about. Instead, there was a terrifying, hollow lightness.
"You must leave before the next full moon," Morana said, her voice trembling as she packed her ritual herbs into a worn leather satchel. "When an Alpha’s bond is forcibly cut, the phantom pain is... significant. He will be in immense pain. He will look for you once he finds out the bond is already broken."
“He will go mad!”
"Let him look," I said, though my voice sounded raspy. "He’s spent three years looking everywhere but at me. It’s only fair that he finally feels what’s missing."
I didn't pack much. I didn't want the silk dresses he’d bought to appease me after his disappearances, or the jewelry that felt more like gilded shackles.
I grabbed a sturdy leather bag and stuffed it with my journals, a few changes of practical clothes, and the small dagger my father had given me before he passed.
I was halfway to the door when the air in the room shifted.
The heavy oak door of my chambers didn't just open, it groaned on its hinges as if under immense pressure. I didn't need a bond to know who it was. The scent of pine and rain—his scent—flooded the room.
Albus stood in the doorway. His tuxedo jacket was gone, his white shirt sleeves rolled up, and his hair was a mess. But it was his face that stopped my breath. He was pale, his eyes wide and bloodshot, roaming the room frantically until they landed on me.
He winced, clutching his chest, his fingers digging into his shirt right over his heart.
"Diana," he wheezed, his voice a jagged edge. "What... what did you do? Something is wrong. I felt... I felt like I was dying. I felt a tear."
He took a step toward me, reaching out a hand. Usually, my body would ache to meet his touch. Tonight, I felt a cold, instinctive urge to recoil.
"I didn't do anything, Albus," I said, my voice steady, almost conversational.
He rushed to my side. Holding my hands gently, he added, “I felt you were in pain… my heart ached. What's wrong, Diana?”
“Pain?” I smirked, “What am I supposed to be in after my mate leaves me in the ceremony all by myself? What is my wolf supposed to be feeling?”
His face twisted. A flicker of something like guilt passed through his eyes and soon a sense of relief was visible in his face as he sighed, “Ah, I thought something was wrong.”
Like it wasn't.
“Diana…” he began, “Celeste fainted. As her only family and the Alpha of the pack, how could I stay still and complete our ceremony. That will make me look so heartless. I have explained you everything and-”
“What's this?” His eyes frowned looking at the leather bag next to me.
I didn't want him to find out I was leaving, not before the next full moon when he will be at his weakest point. So, I lied. “I was just clearing trash from my wardrobe.”
Seeing how small the bag was, he didn't think much and quickly relaxed. Then he turned to the maid and said, “Marry, prepare dinner for one more person. From now on Celeste will live with us.”
His words sent chills down my spine. He did not even bother asking me and declared she was going to live with us.
It was supposed to be our home and he was bringing another woman inside and didn't even feel the need of asking me?
Even if I had broken the bond between us and had nothing to do with him, his little to no acknowledgement towards our bond ached my heart.
Then as if noticed the shift in my expression, he turned to me and said, “Celeste often feels weak and alone after brother's death. I think living with us will cheer her up.”
Though he had made his decision, his eyes were scanning for my answer. But, I said nothing.
I simply turned to marry and said, “No need to prepare extra dinner. I’m moving out tonight.”
