Chapter 50 CHAPTER 50
The night hummed softly beyond the windows, the same way her pulse did.
Cindy sat on the edge of her bed, fingers knotting together in her lap. The silk gown brushed her ankles, light as air yet heavy with meaning. The scent of jasmine drifted from the gardens below, but even that sweetness couldn’t calm the restless storm building inside her.
For three days, Mooncrest had lived and breathed her coming shift. Every hallway had echoed with hurried steps and hushed voices, every corner blooming with color and preparation. Servants carried silver trays of flowers, warriors trained until the air rang with steel, and couriers rode to and from the city with last-minute orders.
It had begun to feel less like a ceremony and more like a coronation.
And yet, as she watched the final preparations from her window, a strange ache grew inside her. In Silverpine, no one had ever prepared anything for her. She remembered how every full moon, the whole pack would gather in the clearing for another young wolf’s first shift - parents whispering proud prayers, laughter echoing under the trees, gifts of ribbons and charms tied around trembling wrists. Cindy - no, Lisa - had always stood at the edge, invisible, watching the joy that would never be hers.
No one had asked if her wolf had awakened. No one had even looked her way. At nineteen, she’d still been treated like a burden that refused to disappear. Her adoptive parents had never spoken to her about shifting, about pain or glory or the moment the wolf first takes over. They’d never imagined she’d have one.
And now, here she was - robes laid out, lanterns strung through the gardens, the air alive with the scent of flowers and roasted meat. Every step she took, someone bowed. Every breath she drew, someone waited on it. For a heartbeat, the memory of the lonely girl in the Silverpine shadows flickered against the mirror of the princess she had become.
Across the room, Isabel sprawled on the couch, munching grapes stolen from the kitchen. “You’re making that face again,” she said, pointing at her. “The one that looks like you’re about to faint.”
“I’m not,” Cindy said, though her voice betrayed her.
“Liar. You’ve been pacing since sunset. You’d think you were walking to your execution instead of your big debut.”
Cindy sighed, staring at her reflection in the tall mirror. “It’s not that. It’s just… I never imagined this would be such a big thing. The whole court, the elders, the warriors, even Celestine - everyone will be there.”
“That’s because everyone loves you, Princess,” Isabel said with a teasing grin. “And this isn’t Silverpine or whatever…. Here, you’re meant to be celebrated, not hidden.”
Cindy smiled faintly but didn’t answer. Her thoughts drifted to the practice grounds, where she’d watched the warriors rehearse her procession. The sound of drums still echoed in her memory -slow, reverent, powerful. The symbol of the Mooncrest line.
She pressed her palm against her heart. Lisa, she reminded herself. They call me Lisa here.
She was still lost in thought when a soft knock broke through the quiet.
“Come in,” Isabel called.
The door opened, and Lora stepped in, her presence filling the room like candlelight. Her eyes found Cindy at once, and something in her face softened.
“Oh, my dear,” Lora murmured, crossing the room. “Look at you.”
Cindy stood automatically, the older woman’s gaze steady and warm. Lora reached out, smoothing an invisible wrinkle from her sleeve before simply drawing her into her arms. The hug was unexpected - but it melted something inside Cindy that words never could.
“You look so much like your mother,” Lora whispered against her hair. “Helena would have been so proud. When she carried you, she’d talk about all the things she’d teach you - how to hold your head like a queen, how to laugh like no one could break your joy. She was radiant that day, and so sure the world had given her a miracle.”
Cindy swallowed the lump in her throat. “She did? I wish I remembered her.”
Lora stepped back, cupping her cheek. “Then tonight, you honor her memory just by standing here. She’s in your eyes, your kindness… even in your courage to be afraid and still show up.”
A small laugh slipped through Cindy’s tears. “That doesn’t sound very brave.”
“It sounds exactly like bravery,” Lora said.
Isabel rose and joined them, folding her arms. “If you cry any more, we’ll have to fix your face again,” she teased gently, though her own eyes glistened. “So, are you ready, Your Highness?”
Cindy hesitated, then exhaled slowly. “Actually, before we go…”
Both women turned toward her. She lifted her chin, her voice soft but clear.
“I’ve been thinking. After tonight, I want to stop being Cindy. That was who I was in Silverpine - the girl who was afraid to speak, afraid to live. Cindy was always in pain. But here, I want to be who I was meant to be. I want to be Lisa. And my wolf… she deserves her real name too. From now on, she’s Celia.”
Isabel grinned, clapping her hands softly. “Lisa and Celia. I like it. It fits you both.” She tilted her head with a mischievous glint. “Is it okay if I start calling you that right now?”
“Please do,” Cindy said, smiling through the nerves that tightened her chest.
Lora’s eyes shone with pride. “It suits you, Princess Lisa of Mooncrest; Roderic and Helena Ashvale’s daughter, heir to the Mooncrest pack royal bloodline. You’ve carried so many names in silence. It’s time you chose your own.”
Cindy nodded, her hands trembling slightly, though not from fear this time. “Thank you. Both of you.”
Lora brushed a stray curl from her forehead. “Then let’s not keep your people waiting.” Her tone softened, motherly again. “Are you ready?”
Lisa - no longer Cindy - hesitated for only a breath, then gave a small, nervous smile. “I think I am.”
Isabel looped her arm through hers with a grin. “Then let’s go make history.”
And together, they stepped toward the door, the night beyond pulsing with the quiet promise of transformation.