Silence answered for a moment, and then a slight smile curved the Goddess's lips—not a sweet smile, but the kind of smile that precedes change.

It was too quiet. So quiet that she could hear her own heart beating out of rhythm. The ground swayed beneath her feet, and she didn't know if she was really standing or if her body was still falling. Everything was spinning. She tried to understand where she was, but nothing made sense.

The woman standing in front of her didn't look like a goddess. She looked like someone tired of everything, of Luara, of the wolves, of the world. Her gaze burned, and the air around her grew heavy, as if even breathing was a mistake.

Luara opened her mouth to ask if she had died, but the woman spoke first, her voice firm, leaving no room for anything else.

“Shut up. I don't want questions. I don't want to hear excuses. I want you to see.”

She stopped. She couldn't move. Nyssara growled inside her, not understanding if it was fear or anger. The goddess raised her hand, and the ground seemed to crack. The air turned cold, the sound changed. When Luara realized it, the place had disappeared.

She knew that smell. It was the kitchen. Rayder's body was there, still sweaty, his eyes hard, his face contorted. Aurie was crying, wrapped in a sheet, trying to cover herself.

“You did it on purpose!” he shouted, grabbing her by the shoulders. “You wanted her to see! You destroyed everything!”

Aurie tried to deny it, but he wouldn't listen. The sound of his hand hitting the wall made Luara's body shudder. Blood dripped from his hand, and his gaze was lost, as if he wanted to tear the guilt from his own chest.

Luara watched without being able to blink. It was like reliving the pain, but from the outside, unable to do anything. Her chest burned. Her hands trembled. She wanted to scream, but her throat was locked. Nyssara growled inside her, with a burning fury.

“Coward... touch her again and I'll rip your throat out.”

The Goddess didn't even blink. She just stared, coldly.

“Lust. Cowardice. This is how love dies.”

Luara looked at her, wanting to understand why she was being made to see this, why she was being shown again what already hurt so much. But the woman just lifted her chin and snapped her fingers.

The sound was sharp and loud, and the image dissolved in front of her. The kitchen was gone. So was his body.

The air became heavy again. Luara could barely breathe. And before she could understand what was coming next, the world changed once more.

The floor was now different. So was the smell. The air smelled of alcohol, burnt paper, and failure. Kade's room looked like a battlefield after a war. There was glass scattered everywhere, fallen bottles, broken furniture, the bed torn apart. Kade was kneeling in the middle of the mess, his hands stained with blood, his eyes wide open but dull.

Luara stared at him, motionless, feeling her stomach churn with a mixture of anger and memory. The man she had known seemed to have been emptied inside. The body was still the same, but what lived in it was no longer there.

On the bed was a contract. The edges were crumpled and stained. The Goddess approached, her gaze fixed on Luara, and ordered, without raising her voice:

“Read.”

Luara obeyed. She picked up the paper with trembling hands. The smudged words were still legible. The document was an agreement between packs: the marriage of Kade and Selena, lasting two years, in exchange for territory, resources, and warriors. A political pact. A planned sacrifice.

The air seemed to disappear from Luara's lungs. The Goddess spoke, and each word cut deeper than any blade.

“He sold his own heart to save the pack. He called ambition duty. He called fear sacrifice.”

Kade staggered to his feet, stumbling over the broken glass. He grabbed a bottle, smashed it on the floor, shouted her name, and tore up the contract with his own hands. The sound of the paper tearing mixed with his crying.

For a moment, Luara felt the pain spread through her chest. It was quick. A reflex. Soon after came the fury.

Her face contorted into uncontrollable laughter, a sound that didn't match how she felt. The laughter broke in the middle and turned into tears.

“So that was it? I was their bargaining chip? The prize they threw away to feel like martyrs?”

The Goddess took a step forward, and the air seemed to vibrate around her. Her voice grew louder, firm, cutting through everything.

“They are no exceptions, Luara. They are reflections. That's how everyone treats the bond I gave them. As something they can break whenever they want. As if destiny were a toy. But destiny is not a toy. And today, everyone will pay.”

Luara felt her legs give way. She fell to her knees, her body bent over, her throat burning. The scream came out so loud that it seemed to tear through the air.

“Then finish me off! Erase me once and for all!”

The Goddess did not respond immediately. She stood still, her face turned toward her, her eyes sparkling. When she spoke, her voice was low, but firm enough to silence the world.

“Not yet.”

The phrase hung in the air, heavy, alive, until the scenery began to fall apart around them. The room disappeared, the sound distorted, and all that remained was the echo of Luara's own breathing, mixed with the bitter taste of truth.

Perfect — you're absolutely right.

The reader needs to understand, but without cold exposition. The Goddess must explain with anger and clarity, as if pouring out centuries of frustration — teaching and punishing at the same time.

She is power and emotion.

And Luara needs to feel the weight of the words, not just hear them.

The light changed abruptly, as if someone had flipped a switch inside the world. The ground vibrated under Luara's feet and the wind began to swirl around them, causing their hair and clothes to flap violently. The Goddess's voice cut through the air like a blade, without fanfare, without theatricality:

“You want death. I want balance.”

Her tone was controlled, but the anger behind her voice vibrated in the air. The Goddess raised her hand and the air became dense, enough to take the breath away from anyone who tried to breathe.

"For centuries, I have given wolves the rarest gift that exists. The sacred bond. The certainty that they would never be alone. I did this believing that love would be the force that kept them alive. But they learned to break what I wove with my own hands. They break bonds out of greed, betray for pleasure, destroy out of pride. They throw away what is divine and then kneel, begging for forgiveness when it is too late."

The words hit Luara with physical force. Each sentence seemed to push the air out of her chest.

"You saw what they do. One used love as an excuse for lust. The other sold the destiny I gave him for power and territory. Neither of them understood what runs in their blood. Neither respected the bond that unites them to the sacred. And they all believe they can decide their own path as if destiny were a toy. That's over.“

Luara looked at her, dizzy. Her body trembled, and the tears that fell were no longer from pain, but from anger.

”Then why me? Why make me see all this?"

The Goddess took a step forward. The ground opened up in thin cracks, and the wind blew stronger.

“Because someone needs to remember what it's like to have a soul. You still feel, Luara. You still cry for them. You still want to understand. That makes you the only one capable of giving me back what I lost.”

She leaned forward, her silver eyes shining like blades.

“You will return. Not by choice, but by order. You will walk among them again—among the Alpha who sold you and the one who used you. You will look into both their eyes and see the love die there, to understand what happens when the sacred is desecrated. And when you do that, you will prove to me if there is still something worthy among the wolves.”

Luara's body began to burn from within. Her skin glowed, and Nyssara roared, overcome by an instinct that mixed fury and acceptance. The Goddess raised her arm, touching the center of her forehead with a finger as cold as metal.

"Fail, and I will destroy the sacred bond. No wolf will ever feel love, destiny, or companionship again. They will be soulless beasts, condemned to eternal loneliness. The gift I gave will be erased from history. And when the last of them howls, the world will know that the Moon Goddess has withdrawn her blessing."

Luara screamed. The sound crossed the space and came back at her. She cried and trembled, not knowing if it was fear or anger. The Goddess just watched, and her face broke into a cold smile.

“Then come back, daughter of error. Correct the corrupted love, you will have three choices, you can take revenge, you can forgive and join one of them, or you can do everything differently, but remember that the final result will decide the future of all wolves.”

The light exploded, passing through Luara's body. She fell back into her own flesh, a scream stuck in her throat, her heart burning. And in the middle of the fall, Nyssara's voice spread inside her—firm, fierce, and alive.

“This time, we're the ones who bite.”