The Alpha’s Fall, the Luna’s Rise

When I woke up, I saw around me was white — the ceiling, the glow-light, the sheets.

Even the dull ache in my chest was white, hollow and lifeless.

I blinked, my eyes swollen, my throat burned as if something corrosive had torn through it. My head throbbed, pulsing in time with my heartbeat.

“You’re awake,” a gentle voice said.

I turned my head toward the figure in white, the healer. His eyes were gentle, but his face lined with fatigue.

“You suffered a severe reaction to something in the air,” he said, skimming his crystal slate. “Jasmine pollen, I believe. You’re fortunate someone found you in time.”

I didn’t feel fortunate. I felt hollow.

“How do you feel?” he asked gently.

“Like I’m still dying.” I croaked.

He nodded. “You’ve endured severe trauma, but there’s more to tell.”

My brow furrowed. “More?”

He looked at me for a long moment, unsure where to start.

“You’re three weeks moon-blessed, Luna Ashencrest.”

The chamber shook.

Three weeks moon-blessed?

My mouth opened, but nothing came out.

How was it possible?

The memory slammed into me.

That night. The stench of moonwine on his breath. How he staggered into my chamber, slurring Nyxara’s name. How he pinned me beneath him, too intoxicated to see who I was. I screamed, begged, tried to push him off.

He, however, insisted ….

“I won’t keep it,” I said firmly.

The words were soft—but edged like a blade.

The healer hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

His eyes softened in pity. “You’re still healing from the jasmine reaction. You’ll need a few more days—no more than three—then we can proceed.”

I nodded.

I had made up my mind. Theros was an evil. I would not bring another pup into his cruelty.

“How is Althea?” I asked, clearing my throat.

He paused, uncertainty in his eyes. That brief pause nearly stopped my heart.

“Didn’t the Alpha tell you?” he asked, brow furrowed.

My blood chilled.

I forced myself upright, ignoring the ache pounding in my head.

“Tell me what?”

He drifted his gaze away, searching for words, but none coming out.

"She's ... suffered from a brain hemorrhage, caused by oxygen loss."

I gasped.

“Last night, we attempted the moon-surgery—but we required parental consent.”

His voice faltered.

“We couldn’t contact you. And your mate …” his voice faltered.

He forced the words out.

“He said he didn’t care if the whelp lived or died, she’d been nothing but a nuisance to the pack since the day she was born.”

The air refused to reach my lungs. The chamber constricted, crushing in on me. His voice drifted on, distant and distorted.

“I’m sorry … your pup didn’t survive.”

A sharp ringing filled my head.

Althea. My fragile, innocent little pup.

I lunged from the bed, grabbing his robes.

“Where is she? Where is my pup?”

My scream tore the chamber apart.

“Nyxara came at dawn,” he said quickly. “She claimed the body.”

I heard nothing after that.

The tears streamed down my face as I screamed inches from his face.

"Where is she!"

He tried to calm me. “Please, Luna Ashencrest, Lucielle, Nyxara, came earlier this morning. She … she took the body.”

I didn't hear his words after that.

I stormed out of the healer den like a beast with blood in my eyes.

The gate of the Ashencrest den stood open, as if they were welcoming the devil back into its den.

I tore through the front doors, my throat shredded from screaming, my chest collapsing with every breath.

She was laying on the Alpha’s throne couch like a Luna. Legs crossed. Moonwine swirling in her glass. A cruel smile playing on her mouth.

“Where is my Althea!” I screamed.

Nyxara didn’t flinch. She pressed her thumb against a glowing crystal.

The crystal mirror lit up. And a scene appeared.

Althea—tiny and frail—struggled for breath. Her lips were blue, her chest heaving as if each breath might be her last.

The pack healers swarmed her, trying to save and pull her back.

Until … they stopped.

The life-rune above her dimmed—then went dark.

I screamed, covered my mouth and crumpled to the ground.

“You monster,” I sobbed. “You heartless monster…”

Nyxara only smirked and turned the sound higher.

On the crystal screen, I watched as she dragged Althea’s lifeless body across the stone floor, tossed her into a reinforced iron cremation bin and burned her without a pack rite.

“This is your pup’s last moment under the moon,” she said with a mocking smile. “Touching, isn’t it?”

My heart shattered into pieces as I watched the monstrous on the crystal screen. I had only guilt, how badly I had failed my daughter.

“How could you … how could you burn her without asking me?” I sobbed.

“Oh, does it tear your heart apart?” Nyxara mocked with a laugh. “Does it make you want to howl and strike me?”

She leaned closer, eyes gleaming. “Then wait until you hear what happened when the healer called last night.”

I narrowed my eyes, dread pooling in my gut—I already knew she was about to twist the knife.

“What did you do?” I asked hoarsely.

Like a lunatic, she snickered in satisfaction. "I was the one picked the call when the healer called. I am moon-blessed with Theros' pup, Lucielle, you don't think I would let your pup alive, do you?"

"You ended Althea's live — over nothing? How could you?" I roared, fury pouring out of me.

She only shrugged. “I can do anything to get rid of the unimportant thing.” I surged to my feet, ready to tear into her, when she calmly raised a small glass jar from behind her back. "It's her ashes. “If you want what remains of your brat … hit your head on the floor ten times.”

I stared at her, willing it to be a lie. But the madness in her eyes told me it wasn’t.

I fell to my knees.

“One … two … three.” She counted with a chuckle like a lunatic.

The fourth time, blood was slipping down my forehead. My sight was blurring and my hearing was buzzing.

"Seven, eight."

I was staggering, almost fainting.

"Ten!" She applauded and smiled in mockery.

“What a pathetic mother,” she murmured, moving closer with the jar clenched in her grip.

I reached out, hands trembling, heart racing. But then, she let it slip.

The jar smashed against the floor and Althea’s ashes scattered like dust beneath our feet.