The Alpha’s Fall, the Luna’s Rise

When I stirred beneath the dim light of a healer’s den, I couldn’t tell if I had survived.

I felt numb and yet I felt pain all the same.

It coursed through my veins, my abdomen pulsing as though something meant to be part of me had been torn out.

My head throbbed beneath the tight pull of freshly bound wraps and my hand ... oh Moon Goddess, my hand still felt like it was on hearthstone, burning.

I shifted my head, squinting against the harsh white glow filling the healer's den.

The sharp smell of sterilized herbs greeted me, the rhythmic hum of runes nearby echoed softly and grief settled deep in my marrow long before a single word was spoken.

The healer was already standing near the rune-etched window, with a rune-tabled in his hand.

His face was stern, unreadable, until his gaze fell on me. And in that moment, I saw pity.

"Luna Ashencrest, my deep condolence ...."

He didn't need more words to have me understand.

I did understand. The pup was gone.

I didn’t cry, didn’t seek details, or didn’t even flinch.

“Can I leave the healer den?” I asked, my voice rough and hoarse.

He blinked, startled. “You … just endured a second trauma. Your body needs time to mend. The burns on your hand still—”

“I … I just want to leave.”

He hesitated, glancing down at the rune-tablet in his hands, then gave a curt nod in the end.

The moment I stepped out of the healer’s den, I was limping slightly, every step sending sparks of fire through my ribs and legs.

Still, I moved forward. I called for a mooncharriot, giving the coordinate I had saved on my crystal communicator.

The Pack Registry Hall — a kind of place where the living came in with betrayal and heartache and came out with freedom or at least a settlement of blood and honor — was noiseless.

I had no wish for moon-credit, no wish for just wiping out my identity, I had wish for cutting off ties with Theros and his pack and began a new life, a new form of me.

“I file for a bond severance,” I said to the scribe behind the stone desk. “Now.”

The scribe studied me with faint curiosity, as if I were just another she-wolf of the pack seeking freedom.

He asked for my name and my mate’s. I gave them without hesitation.

He tapped at his rune-tablet for a moment, then furrowed his brows.

“Luna Lucielle Ashencrest…” he said slowly. “According to the Moon Registry record … your bond to Alpha Theros Ashencrest was severed two cycles ago.”

My heart stopped.

“Did I hear it wrong?”

“No, you didn’t.” He explained gently. “Alpha Theros is currently bonded to Nyxara Grimvale.”

He turned the rune-tablet screen toward me.

The crystal bond scroll faced me. There was my mark, my full name and the details of my mate.

And the date? Two cycles ago.

It was around the time he had tricked me into marking those parchments he claimed were for a shared pack treasury. I had believed in him. I was still his mate. We were still … something.

He had betrayed me, deceived me, kept me caged under his control as though I were a prisoner unaware of my own freedom.

He had claimed Nyxara as his mate. And I … I had been nothing but a ghost of myself in my own life.

My breath caught, raw and ragged.

I rose to my feet, but the floor of the Pack Registry Hall seemed to sway beneath me. My legs wavered and the scribe moved to help me, but I waved him off.

“Thank you.” I whispered. “I have … I have to go.”

As I stepped out, a sense of relief washed over me—I was finally free of him, even if the path here had been poisoned with his deceit.

***

The sun was sinking when I walked out of the moon charriot, my mind blank, my body protesting, my soul clinging to the last thread of life.

The Ashencrest den was noiseless the moment I took a step in — but not for long.

I stepped into the front door, holding the bond severance parchments in my hand, still warm from the rune-press. I made no effort to conceal it. I wanted him to see that I had unraveled his lies.

Theros was relaxing in the firelit chamber, swirling the moon-wine in his glass.

He raised his gaze.

“Where have you been?” he asked indifferently.

“I know everything,” I said, lifting the scroll. “You severed our bond two cycles ago. You lied. You kept me trapped in a moonlit binding no longer existed.”

His expression hardened in an instant.

“So you finally found the nerve to go to the Pack Registry Hall,” he said coldly. “That’s what today was about?"

"Don't twist the blame!" I snarled.

“You think you can break free of me with that scroll?” He rose to his feet. “That’s why you went there? You truly believe you’re free?”

I held his gaze. “Why won’t you just let me go? I have the bond severance scroll. I'm free to go anywhere.”

His voice was calm, too calm.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he said. “Not until I decide you are. If you try, your exit will be in a coffin.”

He turned, grabbed a garment from the hearth couch—a black velvet moon-gown—and threw it at me.

“Dress yourself.” He ordered. “We’re attending the Consortium Gala tonight. And bring your bastard pup. Appearances must be maintained.”

I stared at him, my expression cold and unyielding.

“Althea isn’t required to attend,” I said flatly, “She’s not yours. You made that very clear.”

He stared at me, shock flickering across his face. I didn’t wait for a response—I turned and walked away.

Inside my chamber, I shut the door and pulled out my crystal communicator. My hand still shook with pain, but my voice did not.

The line chimed once before someone answered.

“It’s me,” I said softly.

“Have you reconsidered?”

I met my own gaze in the mirror—hollow, barely alive. I was nothing more than the ghost of the she-wolf I used to be.

“Yes, Grandpa. Begin the preparations.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow,” I answered. “That’s when I vanish. I’ve endured enough.”