Chapter 116 The shape of absence
Two days after Morgana’s death, the house looked exactly as it always had.
That was the strange part.
Aria had expected something to show for it. A crack in the walls. A silence so heavy it bent the air. Some visible mark that her world had shifted.
There was nothing.
Just the ordinary shape of a day with something important missing from inside it.
The past two days felt like a dream. She answered questions when asked. She nodded to condolences. She even smiled when Maya or Devon glanced her way. But her eyes held a weight that no one could comment on without breaking the quiet spell she had laid over herself.
That morning, she was dressed by six. Her hair was pulled back and her expression was composed in the way that made people step aside when she walked toward them.
Kane watched her from across the kitchen. He wanted to speak. He did not.
The voice came from the breakfast table.
Leo was standing on his chair, holding a half-eaten slice of toast in one hand and a crayon in the other.
Lily looked up from her bowl. “Mama? Why are you sad?”
Aria’s breath caught. She and Kane exchanged a glance. They had agreed to tell them carefully. A gentle approach, a quiet explanation. But children rarely waited for preparation.
Kane knelt first, putting himself at their level. “Hey, you two. Can we sit with you for a minute?”
Aria followed silently. She knelt on the other side of the table.
“There’s something we must tell you.” Aria kept her voice steady. “It’s about Elder Morgana.”
Leo’s lip trembled. “Is she mad at us?”
Aria swallowed. “Not at all, sweetie. You see, Elder Morgana was very, very old. And her body got too tired to keep going. So she had to rest.”
Leo’s brow pulled together. “Can we go and see her when she wakes up?”
Aria looked at him. She did not soften the truth. “No, baby. She won’t wake up.”
Lily stayed quiet.
Longer than three-year-olds usually stayed quiet.
Lily’s small voice whispered, “Is she alone?”
Something inside Aria split cleanly down the middle.
Kane placed a reassuring hand on Aria’s. “No, baby. She’s not alone,” he said.
Lily nodded slowly, satisfied in the way children sometimes were when the answer was honest, even if the thing itself was sad.
“Can we go put our drawings in her room?” Leo asked.
Aria’s hand tightened on the edge of the table.
“Sure you can,” Kane said quietly. “She’d like that.”
The twins accepted this and Leo slid down from his chair, helping Lily get down as they headed toward the living room with the easy resilience of children who trusted the world to remain steady.
After they left, Aria stood at the counter with one hand pressed flat against the surface.
Kane moved toward her.
She shifted away first.
“Aria,” he began carefully.
“Not now, Kane,” she said without turning around.
He closed his mouth.
A knock came at the front entrance.
Right on time.
Aria straightened before Kane could move. She smoothed her hands down the front of her shirt as if adjusting something no one else could see.
“I’ll get it,” Kane said.
She nodded once.
Devon stepped inside with a brief incline of his head. His eyes flicked toward the living room, then back to Aria.
“Everyone’s gathering,” he said quietly. “In the conference room.”
“Good,” Kane replied.
Maya entered a moment later, offering Aria a look that held both question and restraint. She did not reach for her. She did not speak either.
Aria appreciated that.
“Shall we?” Devon asked.
Aria moved first.
They walked the familiar corridor toward the meeting room. The house did not feel different. The walls were steady. The floors did not creak in mourning. Light filtered through the windows exactly as it had yesterday.
That was the cruelest part.
At the door, Aria paused briefly, just long enough to let her expression settle into something unreadable.
Inside, members of the inner circle were already standing. No one had taken a seat yet.
The room quieted immediately when they entered.
Aria did not acknowledge the shift. She walked to the head of the table and remained standing, hands resting lightly against the wood.
Kane took his place at her right. Devon stood opposite.
Kane cleared his throat lightly. “We will hold the funeral in three days,” he said without preamble. “At dusk.”
A subtle ripple moved through the room.
Thomas, one of the council members, frowned slightly. “That’s sooner than tradition.”
“Tradition allows five days,” one of the elders added carefully.
“I’m aware,” Kane replied. His tone was calm, but it did not invite debate.
Devon, who had remained silent until now, leaned forward. “The twins’ birthday is in five days.”
Aria did not react outwardly, but her fingers tightened almost imperceptibly against the table.
“And,” Devon continued evenly, “there’s a strong chance Alexander will strike that night.”
Thomas swore under his breath. “You think he’d strike during the celebration?”
“I think he’d strike when he believes we’re divided,” Kane said. “Or grieving. Or distracted by ceremony.”
Silence settled.
“We bury Morgana before anyone mistakes grief for weakness,” he continued. “We complete the rites. We stabilize the pack. And when Alexander strikes, we will be ready for him.”
There was something final in that.
One of the older wolves spoke again, more cautiously now. “The five-day observance marks the full turning of the moon cycle. Morgana upheld that for every elder before her.”
Aria met his eyes.
“Elder Morgana also taught me that tradition serves the pack,” she said. “Not the other way around.”
No one interrupted her this time.
“The first day will remain private,” Kane continued. “Family. Inner circle. The second day, allied packs may come. The third evening, we light the flame and close the earth.”
Devon nodded once. “We tighten patrol rotations starting tonight. Double the southern boundary. Triple security on the twins’ birthday.”
“I’ll handle outer coordination,” Marcus chimed in. “No one moves without clearance.”
“All right,” Devon said firmly. “Three days. Dusk burial. Security escalates immediately. I’ll notify the allied packs.”
Chairs shifted as the meeting began to break.
Maya lingered a moment longer. “Aria,” she said gently, “if you need anything…”
“I know,” Aria replied.
Maya gave a small nod and stepped away.
One by one, they filed out.
Kane stayed.
For a moment, it was just the two of them in the quiet room.
He searched her face. “Are you all right?”
Her eyes met his.
“No,” she said.
It was the most honest thing she had spoken all day.
Then she straightened, stepping back from the table.
“But I will be.”
And without waiting for a response, she walked out of the room, already moving toward the next responsibility waiting for her.
That evening, when they went to bed, Kane tried once more.
“We need to talk.”
Aria did not look up from the papers in front of her. “About patrol routes or Victoria?”
He exhaled slowly. “I didn’t know she was pregnant.”
She did not raise her voice. She did not need to.
“I just lost someone who was like a mother to me,” she said. “I cannot carry your secrets at the same time. I don’t have the room.”
She turned on the bed, then stopped to face him again.
“I’m not saying never,” she added quietly. “I’m saying not tonight.”
After she fell asleep, he stepped outside and called Marcus.
“Set up the meeting.”
Marcus was quiet for a moment. “Kane. The timing on this is wrong.”
“I know.”
“If she finds out you did this now, while she’s…”
“I know, Marcus.” He leaned against the railing, staring out into the dark. “But if that child is mine… I missed the first three years of my own children’s lives. I won’t do that again.”
Marcus exhaled. “I’ll reach out.”
Kane ended the call.