The Laughingstock Luna: Alpha's Late Tears Worth Nothing

ASTERIA’S POV

The sting of Claude’s betrayal still clung to me as I left the Snowriver Pack behind.

Yes, I left.

His words, the cruelty in his gaze as he sided with Mara yet again, replayed in my mind. How many times had I endured his torment, hoping for a sliver of change? I had sacrificed everything for this pack, for him, but it was clear now—there was no saving us. He was lost to his own hatred, and I was a fool for thinking he would ever see past it.

As I stepped beyond the Snowriver borders, the suffocating weight I’d carried for so long lifted just slightly. But my body still ached, and my wolf—she was weaker than ever. The curse was tightening its grip, slowly draining the life from me, and I was running out of time.

Claude’s rejection had been the final straw, the push I needed to do what I should’ve done long ago: seek answers, real answers. I wasn’t going to let Malakai win. Not after everything. If Claude couldn’t see my worth, I would find someone who could.

That’s why I returned to Glasswood.

The woods greeted me with the familiar scent of pine and moss, a bittersweet comfort in a place that used to be home. The air here was different—colder, crisper, as if the land itself was mourning what we had lost. I hadn’t been back since the war, since I had left behind my title as the Alpha’s daughter to fight for my people. But now, I came seeking something more than memories.

I needed to break this curse.

My footsteps were silent as I walked through the hollowed ruins of Glasswood’s main hall. It had been abandoned for years, left to rot after the war. The silence was deafening, reminding me of all the voices we’d lost—friends, family, pack members who’d died in the chaos. I swallowed the grief that bubbled up, pushing it down. I had to focus.

There was only one place that might hold the answers I sought: the library. My mother had always spoken of our family’s ancient texts, the secrets buried within them, passed down through generations. She had once been a formidable healer, powerful in her own right, but I hadn’t understood just how deep her knowledge went until now.

I stepped into the library, the scent of old books and forgotten history filling my senses. Dust covered the shelves, and cobwebs hung from the corners, but I didn’t care. Somewhere in here was the key to my survival.

I ran my fingers along the spines of the books, searching, until I found it—a small, leather-bound journal, hidden behind rows of thicker tomes. My mother’s journal.

As I opened the fragile pages, her voice came back to me, soft and steady, like it had been when she’d taught me about our pack’s history. I could almost hear her now, guiding me through the ancient knowledge of our bloodline.

"The Moonstone Shrine... capable of healing even the darkest magic..."_

I read the passage again, my heart racing. The Moonstone Shrine wasn’t just a myth. It was real, and it could save me. But the journal also spoke of a guardian—Atticus, the Alpha of the Moonshadow Pack. My breath caught in my throat at the name. I hadn’t thought of him in years.

Atticus and I had grown up together, back when we were both young and reckless, before responsibility had weighed us down. He had been strong even then, but kind, full if life and ambition. After his father’s death, everything had changed. He’d become even cold, brutal even, ruling his pack with a firm hand and earning a reputation as a tyrant.

But if there was any chance that Atticus still remembered the bond we once shared, I had to try. I had no other options. I tucked the journal into my bag, steeling myself for what lay ahead.

The Moonstone Shrine was my last hope, and to get there, I needed to face Atticus.