I gripped the satchel on my shoulder until my fingers went numb. The weight inside felt heavier than bone—heavier than sin.
“Elian’s—”
The words died in my throat.
A small body crashed into me, sending me sprawling across the moon-polished marble. My wrist burned as it scraped the floor and the urn nearly spilled from the bag. I caught it at the last heartbeat and crushed it to my chest.
“Watch yourself,” I snapped.
It was Ryke, Rivelle’s prized pup, freshly released from the healer’s hall after nothing more than a mild ailment. His young face twisted with the arrogance he learned from the Alpha standing behind him.
“You watch it, fool!” he barked. “Why are you even here?”
Malven’s voice cracked like thunder. “That’s enough, Ryke.”
Then he turned his cold gaze on me. “Viora, he’s a pup. Don’t cause a disturbance.”
Rivelle glided forward, steps soft, intentions softer still. She laid a calming hand on Malven’s chest.
“Please, don’t be angry,” she murmured. “This is my fault again. Ryke and I can leave.”
Malven’s jaw tightened. His finger lifted—pointing at me.
“You did this. Not her.”
Something shattered deeper inside me, in a place I didn’t know could still break. They stood there like a bonded family. I was the outsider who returned carrying ashes.
Ryke lunged for my satchel again, fingers clawing at the clasp.
“I’m hungry. Why are you hugging it? Is there food inside?”
The urn slipped free.
It struck the floor with a hollow crack that stole the air from my lungs.
“No—don’t touch that!”
Ryke crouched, reaching for it with filthy hands. “What is it? I want it.”
I shoved him away. Hard. I didn’t care anymore. Everything worth protecting was already gone.
Malven roared, “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”
His face twisted with rage. “He just left the healer’s hall. He’s still weak—and you dare strike him?”
Ryke screamed and clawed at me, yanking my hair until my eyes burned.
“It’s Elian’s,” I choked. “It’s… my pup.”
Rivelle gently pulled Malven back, her voice coated in false kindness. “Let it go. If it belonged to Elian, Ryke shouldn’t touch it.”
Malven scoffed. “This is my stronghold. I decide what is touched—and by whom.”
I pressed the urn to my chest until my ribs ached and walked away without a word.
To him, I must have looked petulant. A dramatic Luna playing the victim. I heard his derisive breath behind me. His muttered insult.
Then the sound of him escorting Rivelle and Ryke out like an Alpha king sending honored guests to their carriage.
That night, in the chamber he no longer shared with me, I packed my belongings. I completed the severance decree with hands that wouldn’t stop shaking. I placed Elian’s urn beside me on the bed and stared at it until dawn bled through the curtains.
***
That night, Elian came to me again.
In the dream, he wandered a long corridor of crystal moon-glass. No shadows. No reflections. Bare feet padding softly as his shoulders trembled. Tears streamed down his face while he clutched his stomach in pain.
He kept calling for him.
“Father? Where are you?”
Not me. Never me. He wanted Malven. He always did.
My heart broke open inside the dream. I chased him, calling his name, begging him to stop. But the faster I ran, the farther he drifted—small hands dissolving like mist.
I collapsed to my knees, sobbing.
“I’m sorry, my pup. I’m so sorry. I should have protected you. I should never have left you alone.”
I repeated it until my throat burned.
***
When I woke, I was already on the floor beside the bed. My hands were clasped in prayer though I didn’t remember kneeling. I begged the Moon Mother that wherever my pup had gone, he felt no pain. That death gave him the mercy life never did.
The Alpha stronghold remained silent. Malven’s dominion was built on power and fear, yet it was the loneliest place in the realm.
Beautiful stone. Gleaming halls. Endless emptiness.
It had never been a home.
Then the memories returned.
Malven’s change. His slow withdrawal. The way Rivelle’s return sharpened him into something cold enough to cut.
He compared the boys often.
“Ryke is strong,” he once said, pouring firewine. “Good presence. Healthy. Resilient.”
Unlike Elian. The words were never spoken—but they sliced all the same.
Only weeks before Elian fell ill, Malven looked me in the eye and said, “Sometimes I wonder if that pup is even mine. And if he is, he’s unfit to inherit my legacy. Too frail. Always sick. Weak blood weakens a kingdom.”
I couldn’t breathe.
I spent years reshaping myself into what he might accept—quieter, sharper, more obedient. But I never believed he would withdraw his bond from our pup.
Elian adored him. Idolized him. He showed Malven every drawing, every little charm made from foil and hope, but Malven never looked.
My pup died without his father’s scent in the room. Without his voice. Without the Alpha he worshipped lifting a single claw.
Footsteps sounded outside. Unsteady. Drunk. Muffled voices followed.
I cracked the door and saw Malven leaning against Rivelle, his arm wrapped around her waist as she supported him.
“Are you sure you want to check on her?” Rivelle whispered, fingers tracing his jaw. “It’s late. She might still be awake.”
Malven laughed low. “Why would I? She was cruel to Ryke.”
Rivelle guided him into her chamber, leaving the door carelessly ajar. I heard everything—her soft cries, his rough groans, the bed striking the wall.
I didn’t move. I didn’t weep. I folded my hands like a forgotten spirit and stared at the wall until morning came.
***
At dawn, I prepared his hangover broth as I always had. The kitchen smelled warm, though I felt nothing. Malven entered, rubbing his temples.
He sat, avoiding my gaze. “I came back late,” he muttered. “Didn’t want to wake you. Slept in the guest quarters.”
I nodded. “Alright.”
He relaxed instantly—thinking I was still the quiet Luna. The obedient one. The woman who never questioned.
Then I slid a parchment across the table.
The severance decree.
