I was finishing the last of my packing, pressing folded clothes into a half-closed travel satchel, when the ward bell rang.
I froze.
For a heartbeat, my pulse jumped.
Ardyn?
I checked my communicator. No missed calls. No messages. After a slow breath, I walked to the entrance.
A large white chest rested neatly before the door, bound with a wide ribbon of gold-threaded silk. Heavy. Refined. My name was etched across the lid in flowing runes.
No seal. No message. Only my name.
Unease and curiosity tugged me forward. I carried it inside, set it on the table and lifted the lid. My breath stopped.
Inside lay a ceremonial Luna gown.
Not just any gown—my gown.
The exact design I had drawn years ago, when I still believed Thorne and I would stand beneath the Full Moon together. Moon-ivory silk that shimmered softly. Lace sleeves spun fine as frost-thread. My fingers trembled as I brushed the fabric.
A tag had been sewn into the lining.
‘Rayna’, stitched by hand in gold.
My vision blurred.
Was this real?
Was this… him?
For one dangerous moment, hope surged—sharp and foolish. After the distance. The coldness. The betrayal. Was this Thorne’s apology? Was he finally ready to complete the Moon Rite? To give me what he had denied me for five years?
I let myself believe it.
Just for a moment.
I slipped into the gown slowly, breath held as the fabric settled against my skin like it had been waiting for me. It fit almost perfectly. I turned toward the mirror, hands pressed to my chest, eyes shining with fragile hope.
Then the door slammed open.
“Rayna, what do you think you’re doing?!”
I jumped.
Thorne stood there, fury and disbelief darkening his features. He crossed the room in long strides and seized the fabric at my shoulder, yanking it so hard the seams nearly tore.
“Why are you wearing that?”
“I—” My voice shook. “Isn’t this meant for me? My name is inside. It’s my design. The gown I dreamed of. I thought maybe… we were finally completing the bond.”
He laughed—short and cold.
“Have you lost your mind? We’re already mates.”
“Then why send this here?” I whispered.
“It’s not yours,” he snapped, brushing his hands over the silk like he was cleansing it. “It’s for Rionna. She wants a Moon Rite. A real one. She deserves it. She’s ill.”
My blood turned cold.
“She’s ill,” he repeated, as if that explained everything.
“She wants to stand beneath the moon,” he went on. “Wear the gown. Have the ceremony she was meant to have five years ago. This was always her fate.”
“It was mine too,” I said quietly. “I drew it. That dream was mine. Why give her something that belonged to me?”
Footsteps followed him in.
Arion and Axton entered.
“What’s all the noise?” Arion asked, then scoffed when he saw the gown. “Oh, this? Rayna, you’re not dying. Let her have it. If she likes your design, you can make another.”
Axton nodded. “You always overreact. It’s just one night. She deserves that much.”
“She deserves my dream?” The words barely left my mouth.
Rionna appeared in the doorway, wrapped in a pale shawl, playing fragility perfectly.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I just want to be a bride once. To stand beneath the moon before…” She let the words fade, eyes filling with practiced tears. “I won’t take him forever. Just for the ceremony. Let me borrow him.”
I looked at her. At all of them. Something inside me went completely still.
“You’re all unbelievable,” I said quietly.
Her lips trembled.
“Do whatever you want,” I continued flatly. “Hold your Moon Rite. Take the gown. Use my design. Borrow my mate. Take everything. I’m finished.”
I turned and walked away.
My legs felt numb, but my chest burned like it was being split open.
Back in my room, I opened drawers, chests, and shelves. I gathered clothes, letters, sketches—every remnant of the girl I had been. Every fragile hope I had guarded.
Behind the estate stood an old iron brazier.
I dropped everything inside.
And struck a flame.
Fire surged upward, hungry and bright. Smoke twisted into the night sky, carrying away photos of Thorne and me, handwritten vows, and the sketches of the gown I would never wear.
I remembered my brothers swearing loyalty. I remembered believing I belonged. I remembered Rionna clinging to my arm, calling me her favorite.
All lies.
Every one.
As the last page of my sketchbook curled into ash, arms wrapped around me from behind.
“Ray…” Thorne murmured, breath warm at my ear. “I’m sorry. I know this hurts. I didn’t want it to go this far. Just do this for her. She’s ill. You’re stronger. You can endure it.”
I said nothing.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he whispered. “Tomorrow. Just us. I’ll fix everything.”
Too tired to argue, I nodded.
“…Fine.”
He exhaled in relief and pressed a soft kiss into my hair.
That night, I closed my eyes and waited for sleep to numb the ache.
But just as darkness claimed me…
“Rayna! Wake up!”
I jolted upright.
Thorne stood beside the bed, urgent and pale.
“We need your blood,” he said quickly. “Your sister’s condition is worsening. Your bloodline matches.”
My throat went dry.
“What…?”
“She’s failing,” he said, already gripping my arm. “Don’t make this difficult. Be useful for once.”
Then, colder…
“Be her blood reserve.”
