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Dravina POV

“I’m sorry, Dravina.” Ansel’s voice was low, thick with regret. “I went too far… it’s just” he exhaled hard, eyes dropping “I was hoping the gene had passed to you. It matters more than you know. The survival of our bloodline depends on it.”

He wasn’t pressing anymore, only trying to make sense of the desperation that had spilled past his control.

I held his gaze for a long, quiet beat before I inclined my head.

“Well,” I murmured, “I can’t wield compulsion.”

Shock flickered across his face. For an instant he looked almost stricken, as though the weight of that truth wounded him more than it answered his question. But he said nothing. He let it fall.

“So the three Regional Alphas… they know who you are?” he asked at last, his tone shifting softer, tinged with awe. “I’ve never seen powerful people shield us before. That’s why I’m asking.”

A small smile curved my lips. “They know. And they’re doing everything they can to keep it that way.”

He laughed then, a boyish sound at odds with the heaviness between us.

“Not everyone is cruel, Ansel,” I said quietly. “There’s still good out there… even if we’ve had to walk through hell to find it.”

He nodded, still smiling faintly.

I broke a piece off the energy bar Dashira had handed me earlier, savoring the fleeting calm. Ansel reached for it in mock hunger and I was just about to swat his hand away when

Boom.

The floor trembled beneath us. Shouts erupted from the hallway, a metallic clang echoing after, then the rising wail of the alarm bell.

The door flew open. A warrior leaned in, face taut with panic.

“We’re under attack! Ashflow warriors they’ve switched sides!”

Ice flooded my veins.

“What?” Ysolde breathed, but I was already on my feet, heart hammering.

If our own men were turning if Ashflow had been compromised we weren’t merely under siege. We were exposed.

No one wasted words. We just moved, sprinting into the chaos beyond the door.

The courtyard was a nightmare. People scattered in every direction, screams tearing the air while smoke and fire clawed at the sky. Warriors collided with warriors our warriors locked in betrayal and blood.

It was war.

For a heartbeat I froze, trying to make sense of it. What had we stepped into? Explosions boomed. Debris rained down. Bodies fell.

No time for questions. No room for fear. The moment demanded more of me than I’d ever been asked to give.

This was my trial as Luna not the comfort of a title, but the crucible of battle.

I had never commanded in war. Never tasted terror like this. But there was no space for hesitation. Not now. Not with everything unraveling.

I reached out through the link. Tavian, where are you?

Behind you, came the clipped reply.

I spun and saw him a massive gray wolf plowing through attackers, rage and precision in every movement. That was Tavian, the savage shield at my back. Our eyes met, a flash of reassurance amid the carnage.

The relief lasted seconds.

A man burst through the smoke, eyes wild, blade raised. He lunged at me. I wasn’t ready. Fear clenched my body. Too late to dodge, my mind went blank

And then

Boom.

He disintegrated mid-air blood, bone, fur scattered like ash.

I staggered back, heart hammering, breath caught.

I didn’t need to guess what had happened.

But Ansel did.

His head whipped toward me, eyes huge, a grin unfurling across his face. “You wield it,” he said, pride crackling through his voice.

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.

He shifted partially then, bones cracking, eyes blazing, and launched himself at the enemy with reckless fury.

I stood frozen for a beat, pulse thunderous.

I had power.

I had people.

And whether I felt ready or not, I was Luna.

Time to fight like it.

“Dravina, get out of here!” Ysolde shouted over the roar of steel and fire.

I turned she was half-shifted, claws red, holding off two attackers like she’d been born to it. Her golden eyes caught mine, wild and urgent.

“Get her to safety now! Ansel too!” Dashira’s voice cut through the din, commanding and raw. I whipped my head to see her across the field, half-shifted herself, carving through foes with an elegance that was almost divine.

Tavian had been right. Fighting partially shifted gave you the edge speed, precision, and raw power enough to match a full wolf. I’d watched him train that way. But this was no training ground. This was war.

Flames crawled up Silverlight’s walls. Smoke choked the air, blurring ally from enemy. Blades flashed. Claws raked.

And then I saw her.

Zenovia. Calm, composed, almost serene in the eye of the storm. Two figures flanked her an older man and woman. I didn’t need names to know them.

Drethos.

Marzena.

They too were fighting our people, half-shifted, efficient, merciless.

But it was the man’s eyes that found me. Locked. Held.

Everything slowed.

His face went slack. His arms dropped a fraction.

“Orielle?” he breathed, like a ghost had stepped through the smoke.

It wasn’t me he recognized. It was her my mother. The bloodline carved into my features.

And in that stunned whisper, I saw everything: his past, his guilt, his fear. The brutal realization dawning in his eyes.

He knew exactly who I was.

And now… so did everyone else.