Chapter 57 CHAPTER 58
The morning the pack stopped pretending was the morning Elowen stopped waiting.
She woke to the sound of voices outside her chamber—quiet, careful, the way people spoke when they believed compassion excused cruelty. The walls were thick, but the stronghold had always carried sound like memory carried grief.
“…can’t go on like this.”
“She’s too weak.”
“The Alpha needs a Luna who can stand beside him.”
Elowen closed her eyes.
She did not rise immediately. She lay still, one hand resting over the bond, feeling its faint, unloving pulse. Darius was awake. Moving. Preparing for the day without her, as he had done for weeks now.
When she finally stood, it was with resolve born of exhaustion rather than hope.
If the pack was going to decide her fate, she would at least be present to hear it.
The great hall was already full.
Hunters leaned against pillars. Mothers held restless children close. Elders clustered near the high table, their expressions grave. Kael stood near the center, arms crossed, jaw tight enough to ache.
And beside Darius—slightly behind him, perfectly placed—stood Seraphine.
She wore no symbols of rank, no Luna markings. Her dress was simple, her hair braided plainly. Anyone looking would see humility.
Anyone looking closely would see inevitability.
Elowen stepped inside.
The hall quieted.
Darius turned.
Their eyes met across the space, and for a breath—a single, fragile breath—Elowen thought she saw something flicker in him. Regret, perhaps. Memory.
Then it was gone.
“Speak,” Elder Thane said gently, though the command was unmistakable. “We were just discussing the future.”
Elowen moved forward until she stood opposite Darius, the space between them vast despite the few steps separating them.
“I am still your Luna,” she said quietly.
The words echoed.
A murmur rippled through the pack.
Darius did not contradict her.
He did not affirm her either.
Seraphine shifted, as if uncomfortable. “No one is questioning that,” she said softly. “Only how best to support you.”
Elowen turned her gaze to her. “By taking everything I cannot afford to lose?”
Seraphine’s expression tightened—just a little. “By ensuring the pack survives.”
Kael stepped forward. “Enough.”
All eyes snapped to him.
“This discussion should not be happening like this,” he said sharply. “Not without—”
“With results?” Elder Thane interrupted. “The pack is frightened, Kael. Crops faltered before Seraphine intervened. The Luna collapsed in public. The Alpha no longer shares her bed.”
The words landed like blows.
Elowen flinched despite herself.
Darius’s shoulders stiffened.
“That last is none of your concern,” he said.
“But it is,” Elder Thane replied calmly. “Because it signals division. And division kills packs.”
Silence fell again.
Elowen’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Is this why you stopped coming to our chamber?”
Darius looked at her then—truly looked.
“I didn’t want to lie beside you while doubting everything,” he said slowly. “You deserve honesty.”
She nodded once, as if struck.
“And do you doubt me?” she asked.
His hesitation was answer enough.
The pack shifted uneasily.
Seraphine stepped forward, voice soothing. “This isn’t about blame. Elowen has given everything to this pack. Perhaps now she deserves rest. Peace.”
“By stripping her of purpose?” Rowan snapped from the back of the hall.
Heads turned.
“She is not being stripped of anything,” Seraphine said evenly. “Only relieved of burdens she no longer needs to carry.”
Elowen laughed softly.
It startled everyone.
“You speak as if I’m already gone,” she said. “As if my power—my life—is something to be redistributed.”
Seraphine met her gaze. “Change is not death.”
For you, Elowen thought.
Darius closed his eyes briefly, then spoke.
“For now,” he said, “Seraphine will act as interim Luna.”
The words rang.
A collective inhale.
Elowen felt the bond shudder—strain tightening like a blade drawn too far.
“For now,” Darius continued, voice steady, “Elowen will rest. Heal. Step back from ceremonial duties.”
He did not look at her when he finished.
He did not need to.
The choice had been made.
Later, Elowen packed her things.
Not all of them. Just enough.
Mira hovered in the doorway, tears tracking silently down her cheeks. Rowan paced, furious, muttering oaths under her breath.
“They can’t do this,” Rowan snarled. “You’re Luna.”
“Not anymore,” Elowen said quietly.
Mira shook her head. “You’re still bonded. That means something.”
“It means I can feel him choosing someone else,” Elowen replied. “Every hour.”
She folded a tunic with careful hands. “I won’t stay where I am a shadow.”
“Where will you go?” Mira whispered.
Elowen paused.
The forest called to her—not as strongly as before, but enough. There were old places. Forgotten shrines. Edges of the pack’s land no one visited anymore.
“I’ll find myself again,” she said. “If there’s anything left to find.”
Darius stood alone in the great hall long after the pack dispersed.
The echoes of his words still clung to the stone.
Interim Luna.
He told himself it was temporary. Necessary. Rational.
Yet when he reached for the bond, what he felt was not relief—but a hollow ache that refused to be named.
Seraphine approached quietly. “You did the right thing.”
He nodded without conviction.
“She’ll understand,” Seraphine added gently. “In time.”
Darius stared at the door Elowen had exited through.
“I hope so,” he said.
Seraphine smiled.
Deep beneath the stronghold, where no one else could hear, Seraphine stood before her mirror once more.
The runes glowed brighter now.
The Luna’s power flowed more freely—no longer resisted, no longer guarded by love.
She pressed her hands to the glass, breath shuddering with anticipation.
“She’s leaving,” she whispered to the dark. “Just as you said.”
The magic answered eagerly.
The Alpha had chosen.
The pack had accepted.
And Elowen—poor, devoted Elowen—was finally alone enough to be taken completely.
Outside the stronghold, Elowen stepped into the forest as dusk fell, a single pack on her back, the bond stretching painfully behind her like a chain she could not break.
She did not look back.
Above her, the moon rose—watchful, distant, and cold.
And somewhere in the trees, something ancient stirred, drawn to her grief.