“Uncle?” Luara spat out the word.

Rayder got off her, trying to compose himself.

“Luara, please... I lost myself. She was here every day, clinging to me... I... I was weak. There's no excuse, but I swear I regretted it the second I saw you.”

“Shut up,” Luara growled, her fists clenched.

Aurie fell to his knees, still crying, feigning remorse:

“It was all my fault! I begged! I... I... I'll leave, I swear...”

“No one is leaving,” Rayder shouted. “No one is leaving here until we settle this!”

Luara walked up to him and slapped him hard; his head turned, his face marked. The silence that followed was worse than the shouting.

Luara was shaking from head to toe; she felt nothing anymore—or felt everything at once: a stupid pain in the middle of her chest, her heart breaking inside.

And then came the snap. The bond, broken.

She didn't have to say anything; he felt it. Rayder staggered, brought his hand to his chest.

“No... no, Luara, don't do that... please. We can fix this.”

“You broke everything.”

“RUN! BEFORE I KILL YOU!” roared Nyssara.

Luara ran — she stumbled out the door, across the balcony, down the stairs. The world collapsed; the ground turned to mud. The scream that came out of her was not human, it was a wolf's, a howl of pain and hatred.

Her body transformed as she ran—bones breaking, white fur appearing, Nyssara tearing through her human skin to escape—and when she threw herself into the forest, her eyes filled with pain and her heart empty, only one thing was certain: she would never be the same again.

Her paws cut through the damp forest floor; Luara ran as if she could tear the pain from her bones with speed, as if she could leave the past behind. The wind tore at her face, the branches scratched her skin, but she barely felt it.

First Kade, now Rayder. It was her; the problem had always been her. Why the hell did her heart insist on believing in love?

Her chest tightened, tears burned; she wanted to scream, but no sound came out—only the blood pulsing in her ears and the damn memory of Rayder's body on top of Aurie's.

“We weren't born to be happy.” “We were born to be abandoned.” The thought spun like a blade in her mind.

The world was a blur; the trees passed so quickly that they looked like ghosts. And Rayder... Rayder didn't follow. He knew where she was going, he knew what she was feeling, and yet he didn't go.

The pain turned to poison, spreading through every cell, every strand of hair, every bone in her ribcage. It only stopped when the emptiness stared back at her.

She was at the edge of the ravine—the same one she had heard so much about. No one survived the fall, not even wolves. The full moon bathed everything in a silvery, cold, indifferent light.

She looked up, stared at the Goddess; her eyes trembled, her fists clenched.

“Why?” Her voice faltered, choked with tears. “Why did you do this to me? Why did you give me a bond, then break it? Why did you make me love someone who traded me as if I were nothing?”

The words came raw, spat out between sobs.

“I didn't ask for this! I didn't ask for fate, for a second chance, for a curse!”

“Let's end this.” “Let's jump. Let's silence everything. The chest, the head, the wolf... everything.”

“I just wanted to be loved,” she whispered. “But maybe love isn't for me. Maybe I'm the mistake.”

She took a step forward; the edge of the earth gave way slightly. Below, the dark abyss, sharp rocks, eternal silence. One more step.

The moon shone high above, immaculate, untouched—like all the promises they had made to her.

“If I don't exist, the pain stops. If I'm not here, no one else will hurt me.”

“We're leaving, Luara. It's over. There's nothing left to feel.”

“Forgive me, father... mother...”

The scream came from within, tearing her throat: “I JUST WANTED TO BE HAPPY!”

She closed her eyes; the wind howled; the world seemed to stop. And then... she threw herself off.

The fall was fast, cold, silent. She didn't scream, she didn't fight — she just let herself go, like someone who finally lets out a breath after drowning for a long time, like someone saying goodbye to the world and the pain it always brought.

From high in the silver sky, the full moon reigned supreme, silent; but in its center, something was moving. The Moon Goddess rose from her throne of light, her dress fluttering like silver smoke, her eyes filled with fury and ancient pain.

She was tired: tired of the wolves' contempt for all that was sacred, tired of seeing her bonds treated as commodities, tired of her blessings turning into curses in the hands of the ungrateful. Once, destined mates were gifts; now they were discarded on a whim, for greed, lust, fear, power—for betrayal.

They thought they could rewrite the threads of fate with their own hands, as if she were not watching, as if she were no longer the Goddess, as if fate were not hers to weave.

“Enough.” Her voice echoed across all planes. “Enough of watching my creatures play with what is eternal. Enough of treating me like a forgotten legend. I am the Goddess of the Moon. And they will remember that.”

Below, the young wolf fell—desperate, broken, betrayed, alone. Luara.

The Goddess reached out her hand and time froze: the wolf's body stopped in midair, a few feet above the ground; the wind ceased; the leaves stopped swaying; the world held its breath. She closed her eyes and invoked Luara's thread of destiny; there was still light, there was still purpose.

“You will not die, my child. Not yet.”

With a breath, the Goddess touched the wolf's spirit and gently pulled it into the veil of dreams.

Luara gasped, opened her eyes: she was standing in a field covered by a bluish mist, surrounded by a soft glow that came from all sides and nowhere at the same time. The pain still throbbed, but her body felt light, untouched.

In front of her, the figure appeared—tall, imposing; the skin shone like liquid silver, the eyes were crescent moons in flames; the power was so vast that the mere presence made the soul tremble.

Luara staggered backward—her heart beating frantically; the words barely came out.

“W-where am I?” The voice came out weak, hoarse.

The Goddess did not answer immediately; she just watched her. Luara blinked, confused.

“I... did I die?”