50- Twilight Embers
POV Lunara Grimwald:
The late afternoon settled over us like a cloak of dusk. The sky was painted in shades of orange and purple.
I could feel the heat from the pyre where Ruda’s body lay, in the center of the village, rising robust and adorned with the Eldoria pack’s symbols, while the flames licked the air in a wild, purifying dance.
It was a pyre worthy of a warrior, stacked with fine wood and ringed by ancestral stones.
The Eldoria believed that by burning the body of the deceased they would free their soul to the vale, the place of eternal rest and endless hunts. At least, that’s what Nicoleta told me.
The crackle of the wood blended with the murmurs and wails of the pup’s family. A female knelt while a male held her close to his chest, trying to comfort her.
Everyone wore white, spreading out like a sea of peace and respect, their eyes fixed on the boy’s body as it burned.
Edric stood closer to the family, head bowed, paying his respects to the little wolf. Beside me, Lyris watched the flames motionless, his brow tight, while Celindra sobbed loudly.
I stayed strong, refusing to let a single tear fall. I felt people’s stares on me, watching closely, whispering behind their hands.
Everyone knew I had been there when the pup was killed, that the wolves came after me, that I was to blame. I felt the weight of their gaze, but I couldn’t blame them for it.
The sun began to sink behind the ancient pines as time passed.
I watched the pyre, built with care and reverence, the tongues of flame rising high against the dusk. Ruda’s body, wrapped in white cloths, was given to the flames, disappearing little by little. Smoke climbed, carrying promises that his soul would find its way to the vale.
I swallowed a ragged breath and blinked the tears away as images of the boy running, trying to find the hidden object and win the challenge, filled my mind.
The air was thick with the scent of burned wood. Everyone remained silent, out of respect for the family’s mourning.
I waited, standing firm.
When the moon rose full in the sky, people moved to the other side of the village, where tables had been set up, covered with white cloths and piled high with meats, breads, and fruits. It was a celebration of the life Ruda had lived, however brief.
Jugs of drink were poured — butterbeer and țuică — and passed through the tables.
I sat with Lyris and Celindra in a spot set apart. It was the same bar I had gone to nights ago, owned by Anca, Lyris and Andrei’s mother.
People kept glancing at me sideways and whispering among themselves.
I sighed, catching Celindra’s attention.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, lifting her mug and sipping the butterbeer.
I picked up one of the little cups of sweet țuică and downed it in a long swallow. I tried to look composed and used to it, but a coughing fit betrayed me.
“I advise only doing that when you’re used to alcohol,” Lyris said.
“People keep staring and whispering,” I complained, shrugging. “I will never be accepted in this pack.”
Could I go home and isolate myself in my room? Yes. But I didn’t want to grieve alone; I felt comfortable beside Celindra and Lyris.
The omega looked me up and down before picking up another cup of țuică and throwing it back in a single gulp. Unlike me, she didn’t even seem to feel the alcohol burning down her throat. I envied that a little.
“Who gave you that dress?” she objected.
I looked down at the dress, studying it. I wasn’t the first to ask — Edric had looked… terrified when he saw me in it.
“It was in my room… in a box,” I revealed. “I thought it was Edric. He didn’t even tell me how the ritual worked or what I should wear. I didn’t know they wore white. I thought the box was a gift, since he hadn’t said anything.”
Saying it out loud sounded so stupid. If he didn’t care enough even to explain the pack’s customs, why would he give me clothes to wear to a funeral?
My chest tightened. I raised my face and saw him dragging Thalira into a dark, empty corner. His touch on her arm hadn’t looked pleasant, but it was enough to rile my wolf.
I grabbed another cup and swallowed it all at once, coughing less this time.
“It wasn’t Edric who gave you the dress,” Lyris said.
I focused on her and ignored the two bastards before I lost control to my animal side. This was bullshit. I hardly cared about him, I didn’t even like him, yet my wolf was claiming him.
“How so? It wasn’t Edric?” I breathed.
“The dress belonged to Catalina,” she answered in a thin voice.
For a few seconds I did nothing, frozen as the news sank in. My skin went cold and I lowered my eyes to the dress. The garment that until then had fit me well felt like it was on fire, burning my skin.
“What?” I choked, stunned.
“I bet it was Thalira,” Celindra commented.
I pulled the butterbeer mug to me, my pale fingers tight, and drank the liquid in a few gulps. I needed alcohol in my blood after that revelation.
“The dress was Catalina’s,” Celindra continued. “It was a gift from the pack to her when she was alive and engaged to Edric. As you know, if a mated wolf dies, the other is destroyed by it. Catalina’s parents died of natural causes. Well, some of them did. She was devastated at the time because she didn’t expect it. So, as a mourning gift, the pack’s best craftswomen came together and sewed that dress for her, which she wore at their funeral.”
I swallowed hard and rubbed my sweaty palms over the white satin.
Wow, that was incredible news. Not only was I wearing a garment of the deceased, I was wearing a gift the pack had made for her. It was an affront to them, a sign of disrespect.