After I died, Alpha went mad.

Everyone in the Shadowfang Pack knew that Alpha Kael was fiercely devoted to his Luna.

To save me, he had sacrificed his own soul to shadow magic.

He had endured the agony of being flayed alive, just to keep me breathing.

He had torn open his own heart, feeding me his blood, just so we could be together.

For three hundred years, I firmly believed I was his Luna, his other half.

But now, I was looking right at him. Kael, my Kael, thrusting his hips forward in a violent, primal rhythm, pinning a woman against the mattress.

A bell hung around her ankle, chiming with his every movement.

It was Lyra. My handmaiden.

Her magic-laced voice slithered into my mind via the mind-link. "Does it hurt, Luna? The Bell of Severance only rings when I feel... pleasure. And with every chime, your soul shatters a little more."

Kael kissed her passionately. "Make it ring louder. I want to hear it."

Chapter 1

"Luna Elara, are you certain?" The voice echoed through the dark, boundless caverns of the Underworld.

The Underworld wasn't a place of fire and brimstone; it was a realm of absolute silence, thrumming with ancient power.

The Arbiter, a being forged entirely of shadows with eyes like starlight, watched me in serene stillness.

"This soul pact is irreversible. In seven days, your soul will dissipate, fading into nothingness. The one who signs this contract shall never see reincarnation."

I stepped forward, my bare feet making no sound against the obsidian floor.

Without a shred of hesitation, I picked up the quill made of solidified moonlight. It drew not ink, but my own soul, pulling a shimmering thread of silver energy from within me.

I pressed my palm against the freezing altar stone, sealing the contract with a single drop of my blood.

According to ancient laws, once a soul was offered, its complete reflection should appear on the smooth surface of the altar stone.

But when I looked down, I only saw a fractured, broken orb of light.

The Arbiter's form flickered, a ripple of shock passing through his shadowy body. "You... you are..."

I knew why he was so surprised. Because he recognized who I was.

The entire werewolf world knew the story.

I was the Luna with the shattered soul. When Kael pulled me back to the living world from the brink of death, a part of me—a crucial, vital part—was left behind in the dark.

I left the Underworld and walked back through the village nestled at the foot of our fortress.

I could hear the excited whispers of the local girls.

"Is the Alpha getting married?" a young she-wolf asked an elder.

"Silly child," the old woman chuckled softly. "The Alpha has been mated for three hundred years. He is utterly devoted to his Luna. Why would he marry anyone else?"

"I heard it's a surprise," another chimed in, her tone filled with romantic awe. "He's prepared the Moonrise Chamber for her, decorating it exactly like a human cottage. He wants to give her a human wedding."

I listened, a bitter, hollow ache rising in my chest. The entire realm knew of Kael's unwavering loyalty. I had thought the exact same thing.

Three hundred years ago, I was just an ordinary human healer.

A rogue wolf attacked me, leaving me at death's door.

Kael, the pureblood Alpha of the Moonshadow Pack at the time, found my scent.

He didn't just want to save me; he broke every sacred law to do it.

He endured the agony of being flayed and embraced the dark power of a feral Eclipse Wolf, all to channel enough raw, primal magic to stitch my broken body back together.

Yet, even with such a massive sacrifice, it wasn't enough. I woke up alive, but a piece of my soul was missing. I had been in a coma for a year.

I remember the day I woke up. Kael was there, pale-faced, his eyes bloodshot and frantic.

He looked utterly drained, like a god crushed by fear. He pulled me into his arms, holding me so tightly I could barely breathe, his hoarse voice whispering against my ear.

"Elara. My Elara. Never leave me. Please. I have nothing. I am nothing. I only want you."

I hugged him back fiercely, my heart overflowing with agonizingly beautiful love and sorrow. I was the luckiest woman in the world.

For three centuries, I believed it with every fiber of my being. I was his Luna, his mate, his soulmate. Even in the harsh, unforgiving lands of the pack, I felt nothing but bliss.

In our quiet, intimate moments, he would graze my earlobe with his fangs and whisper, "Elara, I will never love anyone the way I love you. You are my very soul."

I believed him.

I drowned in his devotion.

The daily offering of his blood, once a painful necessity to keep me alive, had become a sacrament, a symbol of his love.

I thought I understood the true meaning of death. I was wrong.

Last month, I discovered that there are things far more painful than dying.