The Goddess stepped forward, her hand on my shoulder.

“Survive. When the moment comes, do not beg for love, choose it.”

~

I woke up gasping.

My room was dark and silent but I felt it now. The rot, the lie and the reason none of it made sense.

Angela Vale is not a gift of fate, she's a curse that wore its skin and I have been marked for death the moment she stepped into Crescent Hill, but I will not die.

They say grief comes in waves, but this isn’t grief, not yet. It’s something slower, quiet unraveling, lke watching silk threads snap, one by one, and being the only one who hears them break.

~

Morning came and I woke before the sun. I braided my hair like always, looped silver pins through it, the ones Jace gave me on our first bonding moon.

I wore the Luna crest across my chest, not for pride but because it still meant something to me.

I still meant something or so I wanted to believe.

The halls of the packhouse were hushed as I moved through them, my slippers silent on the stone. The smell of pine and woodsmoke drifted from the kitchens.

Outside, I could already hear the clash of training blades. So I carried a basket of food, warm spiced loaves, wolfberry preserves and dried meat strips I seasoned myself just like I used to do.

I told myself I wasn’t doing this for him but that was a lie, one of many I’ve learned to swallow lately.

The training grounds were alive with motion. Warriors circled the field, sparring in pairs. Pups ran relays through the trees. The younger omegas clapped from the sidelines and there, at the center, stood Jace.

Sweat glistened down his bare back, muscles flexing as he blocked a warrior’s strike and flipped him easily onto his back. His voice barked commands, sharp but kind.

The way the others moved around him reminded me of why we loved him, why I loved him and still do.

He looked up and saw me. His face didn’t harden, his jaw didn’t clench, in fact… he smiled, just for a second.

The smallest curve of his lips and a softness in his storm-colored eyes that reached something aching in my chest. I smiled back.

Hope.... is a cruel thing.

“Luna,” one of the younger wolves gasped, rushing forward when she saw me. Her braid came undone and her cheeks were flushed with training.

I handed her a small loaf from the basket.

“For you,” I said gently. “Training is harder on an empty stomach.”

She beamed. “You always remember.”

I moved among them like I always do, offering food, tying bandages and sharing laughter. I kept my chin high and my smile steady like the Luna they once knew.

If I could just show them I am still here, still good, still strong, maybe just maybe, they wouldn’t forget, maybe he wouldn’t forget, but some memories are unwelcome. Like hers'.

Angela stood just beyond the sparring field, wrapped in a white robe trimmed with moonlace. Her hair was pinned up in a delicate coil and her lips were painted rose-gold.

She wasn’t watching the warriors, she was watching us. Watching him and the way he looked at me. Her eyes narrowed slightly but I felt it like a dagger.

~

That afternoon, the council met in the Hall of Flame where generations of Lunas had stood beside their Alphas, where my voice once mattered.

I arrived just before the session, my fingers were trembling as I adjusted my cloak while Angela was already there, sitting in my chair.

She rose slowly as I approached, offering a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I wasn’t sure you’d attend,” she said smoothly.

“I always do,” I replied, stepping toward the table.

The betas shifted uncomfortably. One cleared his throat. “We, uhh… aren’t certain who would...” He glanced at Jace but Jace didn’t meet my gaze.

Angela turned to the others. “There’s no need for confusion. I’m here in full support of Alpha Jace and the Crescent Hill Pack. Of course, I defer to tradition—”

Then, with careful fingers, she drew a white sash from her sleeve and laid it across her shoulder. The Luna sash.

My throat closed.

One of the elders stood. “The Alpha’s mate should bear the Luna name,” he said. “It's only right that happens.”

I looked at Jace, he opened his mouth, said nothing then closed it.

The silence roared in my ears.

I turned back to Angela, who stood poised in the very place I once called mine, draped in a title she haven’t earn yet.

I smiled faintly.

“Then may she serve you well.” I said and walked out.

~

Later that night, I sat alone in my room.

The moonlight spilled across the floor in long silver streaks. The air was cold, even with the fire lit, but I didn’t reach for a blanket.

Instead, I held the Luna brooch in my palm, the one my mother gave me on the night I was bonded to Jace. The one her mother wore before her.

It's warm from my touch and heavier than it ever felt. I unpinned it, set it down on the table and stared at it for a long time. Then I whispered, so softly even my wolf barely heard it:

“I’m still me. I’m still me. I’m still me.”

And one day… they’ll remember or regret ever forgetting

~

Jace's POV

There was a time Madelyn used to hum when she braided her hair. She will sit by the window in our room, legs curled beneath her and soft morning light catching the silver in her strands.

I will lie in the bed pretending to be asleep, just to listen. That sound, barely a whisper felt like home. But she doesn’t hum anymore.

Yet today, when I saw her in the training yard with the pups, handing out food with that same easy grace, laughing softly like she wasn’t bleeding inside, I remembered every note.

The way she moved, the way she smiled at them, even the way she met my eyes across the field, goddess.

And after what happened in the hall yesterday losing her title, she still repeat what she normally do when we are training.

She shouldn’t still be kind to me or look at me like she is doing, not after what I’ve done and what I let to happen.

Though, I haven’t planned to go near her but the more I see her, the more the guilt festered like rot under my skin.