The Luna Who Ran Away with the Alpha's Heirs

Moonlight draped Silvercrest Keep in silver and shadow, painting its towers like spears pointed at the heavens. Beneath those towers, where torchlight flickered against carved stone and banners of wolves danced with the wind, Luna Aria Valen-Draven paused outside her chamber door.

In her hand she held a parchmentthe healers seal stamped in silver wax, her name scrolled beside the word that had changed her entire world: Expectant.

Her fingers trembled, not from fear but from awe. After years of prayers, rituals, and whispered disappointments, the goddess had finally blessed her womb. Life stirred within hertiny, miraculous, defiant. For the first time in years, she could imagine her husbands eyes softening when he looked at her again. Perhaps the coldness between them would thaw. Perhaps love could still return.

She smiled at the thought and pressed a hand to her stomach. Hell be happy, she whispered, convincing herself. He has to be.

Her wolf stirred within, hopeful and fragile as new snow.

The corridors of Silvercrest were nearly empty at this hour. Warriors trained at the barracks; servants had long gone to rest. Only the echoes of her slippers on marble accompanied her as she descended the spiral stairs toward the lower halls. The parchment was folded close to her heart, safe as a secret wish.

She could already picture how it would gohow shed walk into the war room where Kieran worked late, lay the parchment on his desk, and watch disbelief bloom into joy. Hed pull her close, bury his face in her hair, and whisper that shed given him everything hed ever wanted.

For once, shed be enough.

A warm smile lingered on her lips as she reached the heavy door at the bottom of the stairs. Voices murmured beyondlow, urgent. She hesitated. Kieran never allowed anyone in the war room after dusk. The rules of the Alpha Council were strict; those chambers were sanctified for strategy and statecraft.

She pressed her ear against the carved wood.

the Blood Moon rises in a fortnight, came Kierans unmistakable voice, deep and commanding, each syllable edged with authority. Once the ritual begins, no pack will question my claim. The Lunas Essence will bind the Goddesss favor to Silvercrestand to me.

Lunas Essence.

Aria frowned, her pulse quickening. Shed heard of that rite only in mythssacrifices of long-ago queens who offered their blood to strengthen their Alphas. But those were legends, not doctrines.

A second voice, low and smooth, answered, And the vessel? Shes obedient enough?

Kieran gave a soft, humorless laugh. Obedient, yes. Devoted, na?ve. The perfect vessel. Her blood is pure Valen lineagedescended from the Moons first chosen. Once the essence is extracted, the bond will dissolve, and Ill be free to claim another Luna worthy of the throne.

The parchment slipped from Arias hands.

It floated silently to the floor, landing face-up so that the healers silver seal glinted in the half-light. Her breath caught in her throat. Vessel. Extracted. Bond dissolved.

He was speaking of her.

The air around her seemed to freeze.

Another voice spoke, one she recognized but couldnt place. And the council? Theyll accept it?

Theyll have no choice, Kieran said. When the Blood-Moon Ritual grants me dominion, theyll call it divine fate. No Alpha has ever commanded such power. I will be the King Alpha, and Silvercrest will rule every border.

A soft laugh answeredfemale, lilting, familiar.

Arias heart stopped.

It was Lyras voice. Her closest friend since childhood, her confidante.

Lyra, who braided her hair before ceremonies, who held her hand during every failed moon-cycle, who whispered that patience would bring joy. Lyra, who knew every secret ache shed ever buried.

Will she suspect? Lyra asked, amusement curling her words.

Kierans answer was sharp. Shes too busy playing Luna to notice the strings. By the time the moon turns red, shell offer herself willingly. And then His tone softened, almost tender. Then well have everything.

The sound of lips brushinga kiss.

Aria stumbled back from the door, the world tilting.

The walls felt suddenly too narrow, the air too thick. She pressed a hand against her chest, trying to still her racing heart. The parchment lay forgotten at her feet, the proof of her miracle now meaningless ink on paper.

Hed planned it allyears of politeness, of practiced smiles, of hollow vows. The distance shed mistaken for grief or duty had been nothing more than calculation.

The perfect vessel.

Her stomach twisted as the truth unfurled like poison. The child inside her, the hope shed held onto, was part of the same plan. Her bloodline, her womb, her very existence had been reduced to a steppingstone for his ambition.

She backed down the hall, desperate not to make a sound.

Through the crack of the door, she caught one last glimpse: Kieran standing tall before the council table, his dark hair gleaming under torchlight, his arm around Lyras waist. His eyes glowed faintly with wolf-gold as he smiled at the men who would help him destroy her.

Swear the Blood Oath, he commanded, voice like thunder.

The councilors extended their hands, slicing their palms and pressing them together. Red drops fell onto the carved sigil in the center of the tablea wolfs head encircled by moons. The blood hissed as it met the symbol, smoke rising where it touched.

Kieran raised his hand, the scent of iron thick in the air. On this night, we bind the Blood Oath. When the moon turns red, the Lunas Essence shall feed the Alphas rise.

Their voices answered in unison: So let it be.

Aria turned and fled.

She didnt remember climbing the stairs, didnt feel the cold stone beneath her bare feet. All she knew was the shattering inside her chestthe sound of trust dying. By the time she reached her chambers, her breathing had become shallow, frantic.

She slammed the door and leaned against it, trembling. The chamber looked different nowcolder, emptier. The bed where she and Kieran once lay side by side felt like an altar to something dead. The golden mirror reflected her pale face, the Luna mark on her wrist glowing faintly with pain.

Her wolf stirred, restless and alarmed. Run, it whispered. Hide the child. Protect the line.

But another voiceher own, older, colderanswered: No. Not yet.

She sank onto the edge of the bed, pressing a shaking hand to her stomach. The faintest flutter responded beneath her palm, fragile as a heartbeat under glass. You will live, she murmured, tears streaking down her cheeks. I dont care what I have to do. You will live.

Outside, thunder rolled over the mountains.

Aria stood and crossed to her writing desk. Her fingers still trembled, but her mind had already begun to harden into resolve. She lit a candle and pulled a blank parchment toward her.

To my children, she began, though she did not yet know their names. If these words ever reach you, know that you were loved before the world knew your faces. Know that your mother fought for you, even when the one she loved became her destroyer.

She stopped, ink blotting the paper. The candles flame flickered, reflecting in her tear-wet eyes.

Below her window, the howls of the night patrol echoed faintlya sound shed once found comforting, proof that her husbands warriors kept their territory safe. Tonight it sounded like chains.

In the distance, the moon rose high above the peaks, swollen and pale. It would turn red soon. The Blood Moon.

She thought of Kierans words againWhen the Blood-Moon Ritual grants me dominionand her stomach churned. He meant to kill her on that night, to spill her blood and call it divine will.

The parchment in her hand burned. She tore it in half, then again, until fragments fell like snow around her feet.

Then she lifted her chin, eyes hard.

You chose your path, Kieran, she whispered to the empty room. But I am still Luna. And the Moon does not favor those who betray her own.

The candle guttered.

In that flickering darkness, something inside her shifteda quiet breaking, and then the birth of something new. The gentle, trusting woman who had come to the war room with hope in her heart was gone. In her place stood a queen carved from ice and fury.

When she finally lay down, she did not sleep. She stared at the ceiling until dawn, hand curved protectively over her womb. The moment light touched the window, she rose, washed her face, and began to plan.

The Blood Oath had been sworn against her.

But she would answer itwith her own.

The night air still clung to Arias hair when she crept once more toward the war-room corridor. She had not intended to return. She had promised herself that she would stay in her chambers, breathe, thinkbut her mind would not rest. Every word she had overheard earlier burned behind her eyes like torchlight. The perfect vessel. The Blood-Moon Ritual. When the Lunas Essence is spilled.

Sleep had refused her. Instead she found herself pacing before dawn, bare feet whispering across marble as if drawn by something inevitable. Perhaps she wanted to catch Kieran alone, to demand truth before courage deserted her. Perhaps she simply needed proof that the nightmare had been real.

The Keep was hushed but restless, as though even its stones remembered cruelty. Down in the lower halls, muffled voices stirred againthe same deep tones she had prayed were only echoes in her mind.

She stopped at the archway, half-hidden in shadow. The heavy door was slightly ajar this time, a single torch guttering in the corridor. Through the crack she saw them: Kieran and Lyra, standing before the obsidian table, its surface etched with lunar runes that pulsed faintly with red light.

Kierans posture was relaxed, predatory. Lyra leaned against the table, wrapped in a gown of moon-silver silk that shimmered with every breath she took. Her golden hair spilled down one shoulder; her smile was small, satisfied. The sight turned Arias stomach to ice.

the council suspects nothing, Lyra was saying. They think the Luna prepares for the Blessing Ceremony. She still carries the pendant I gifted her.

A laughlow, indulgentrolled from Kierans throat. She wears it like a charm of protection. If she knew what spell laces its clasp, shed throw it into the river.

Lyra traced a finger across his arm. Then the ritual will take faster hold. Youll have her Essence before the moon reaches its peak.

She was useful, Kieran said simply. The Valen bloodline was necessary. The goddess favors that line, and through it, me. Without her I could never claim dominion. But love her? He scoffed. You dont love the altar you sacrifice upon.

Arias breath caught. Her wolf surged, furious, pressing against the fragile shell of her body. It wanted to burst through, to claw and scream. She pressed a fist to her mouth to stifle the sound.

Lyras laughter was soft and musical. She believes the bond is real. Thats what makes her perfect. She worships you like the moon itself.

Kieran stepped closer to Lyra, brushing a strand of hair from her face. And soon the moon will worship me.

Aria swayed against the wall. The words beat in her ears until they lost shape, dissolving into a roar. He never loved me. The phrase echoed through her skull until it became a rhythm of its ownone heartbeat for every year she had stood at his side, believing herself chosen.

Inside the chamber, Kieran poured wine into two crystal goblets. The crimson liquid caught the lamplight like spilled blood. When the ritual is done, he murmured, Ill dissolve the bond publicly. The council will think her death an accident of the ceremony. Youll stand beside me as Luna, and the packs will bow.

Lyra clinked her goblet against his. To the new reign of Silvercrest.

Their laughter merged with the crackle of torches, weaving a mockery of the vows Aria had once held sacred.

Her legs nearly gave way. She pressed her shoulder to the wall, sliding down until her knees met the cold stone. Her pulse thundered in her ears, and still she could not look away.

Kieran turned then, half in shadow, half in light, his features carved from marble. For an instant she saw not the husband she had loved but the creature beneaththe Alpha who craved conquest above everything, even his own soul. The gold in his eyes glowed brighter than the torch behind him.

Tomorrow we begin the preparations, he said. Tell the healers shes weak again, that she needs moon-herbs to steady her pulse. The tincture will thin her blood. Easier extraction.

Lyra nodded, and Aria finally understood the pattern of her friends kindnessesthe teas, the sudden exhaustion, the fainting spells Lyra had tutted over with gentle smiles. Poison, not pity.

A faint whine escaped Arias throat. The sound was small, barely human, but Lyras head snapped toward the door.

What was that?

Kieran lifted a hand. Nothing. The Keep settles. But his eyes narrowed. Still, check the corridor.

Arias body moved before her mind did. She fled down the hallway, silent as a breath, heart hammering. Behind her she heard the door creak open, Lyras heels tapping once, twice, then fading.

When Aria reached the landing, she stopped, pressing herself against the wall. Pain rippled down her armthe mark of her Luna bond burning as though branded anew. The intricate crescent pattern on her wrist flared red, veins spider-webbing beneath the skin.

Her bond was rejecting him.

The agony stole her breath. She bit her lip until she tasted copper, fighting to stay upright. The mark pulsed with each beat of her heart, then blistered, rising in tiny scars that traced the shape of a moon eclipsed by shadow.

She staggered toward the nearest window and wrenched it open. The cold night air crashed into her lungs, clearing the haze long enough to drag in a breath. Below, the courtyard stretched in silver quietfountains frozen under moonlight, banners hanging limp. She could almost pretend the world was peaceful, untouched by betrayal.

But inside her wrist the pain continued, each throb echoing a single truth: The bond is false.

She pressed the mark against the stone sill, cooling it until sensation dulled. The torchlight from below shimmered across the marble floor, and for a moment she saw her reflection in the windows glass: pale, haunted, no longer the trusting Luna of hours ago.

Her mothers voice drifted back from memory, soft as a lullaby. Beware the one who binds without heart; he will drink the moon from your veins.

Aria closed her eyes. How many times had she dismissed that prophecy as an old superstition, a relic of a dying faith? Now every word rang true.

When she looked again, the horizon had begun to pale with the first thread of dawn. The moon hovered low, swollen and red at the edgesa promise of what was coming.

She gathered what remained of her strength and made her way down the corridor toward her chamber. Each step felt heavier than the last. The pain in her wrist eased to a steady throb, a reminder carved into flesh.

At her door she paused, listening. Silence. The guards at their post gave perfunctory bows, unaware that their Luna had just watched her own execution plotted in candlelight. She nodded to them, entered, and locked the door behind her.

Inside, the chamber seemed both familiar and foreign. The tapestries she had chosen, the perfumed candles Lyra had gifted herall of it looked suddenly staged, props in a theater she no longer wished to perform in.

She crossed to the mirror. Her reflection met her eyes, steady and cold. Beneath the pale skin of her wrist, the Luna mark continued to glow faintly red, like an ember refusing to die. She traced it with trembling fingers and whispered, Then let it burn.

Her wolf stirred again, restless, demanding retribution. Images flickered through her mind: fire, flight, the whisper of forests beyond Silvercrests borders. But first came survival. She would not die as his offering.

Aria moved to her writing table and drew out the small dagger Kieran had gifted her on their wedding daya ceremonial blade of moon-steel etched with her family crest. How ironic that he had given her the very weapon that might free her. She pressed its point lightly against the blistered mark until a single drop of blood welled up. The pain steadied her.

I am not your vessel, she said aloud, the words low but certain. And I will not be your sacrifice.

The Keep seemed to listen. Beyond the window, the wind rose, carrying the scent of storm and pine. The moonlight shifted, brushing her face with cold fire.

Somewhere deep within, the goddess stirredquiet, watchful, waiting.

Aria wrapped her wrist in a strip of linen, binding the mark, hiding the evidence of what it had become. Then she gathered the torn remnants of the healers parchment from the night before and burned them over the candles flame.

Ash fluttered to the floor, delicate as snowfall.

When the last fragment disappeared, she whispered a single vow into the smoke: You wanted a perfect vessel, Kieran. Youll see what becomes of the vessel when it breaks.

The dawn bells began to toll, announcing another day in Silvercrest. To the guards, to the council, to the servants, nothing had changed. But in the silent chamber, beneath the cold gaze of the fading moon, a different oath had been swornone not of blood and conquest, but of survival and vengeance.

And the goddess, though unseen, heard it.

Storm clouds gathered above Silvercrest before dawn, turning the mountains into shadows and the towers into spears of obsidian. Inside the Lunas chamber, the air was thick and unmoving, heavy with the scent of rain and despair.

Aria knelt beside the hearth, clutching her wrist. The mark pulsed with searing pain, the skin around it cracked and blistered like something cursed. Each heartbeat felt like glass grinding beneath her ribs. Her wolf keened inside hera soundless wail that shook her to her core. The mate bond was dying, fracturing under the weight of betrayal.

The agony was unlike any physical wound. It wasnt flesh tearingit was spirit breaking. Every memory of Kieran, every stolen smile, every whispered promise now came back barbed with poison. The part of her that had once drawn warmth from his touch now recoiled from even the memory of it.

She dragged herself upright, trembling. On the vanity table lay the things that once defined her life: the silver crest of Silvercrests Luna, a comb of polished bone, a small chest of keepsakes from her coronation. They seemed meaningless now, trinkets from a lie.

Instead, she crossed to the carved chest by the bed and unlatched it. Inside lay a handful of relics her mother had left herthe only things untouched by Kierans hand. She drew out a pendant of ancient silver, set with a faintly glowing opal: her mothers Moons Tear. The gem shimmered with its own quiet light, pulsing in sympathy with her pain.

Her mothers voice whispered in memory: The moon watches over her daughters, even when the night forgets their names.

Aria pressed the pendant to her heart, closing her eyes. Then watch now, Mother, she whispered. Because I dont know if I can.

Her gaze fell on the second item in the chesta dagger with a hilt of moonstone and a blade etched with the Valen crest. The steel felt cold against her palm. It had been a gift from her mother when she was named Lunaa ceremonial piece meant to remind her that strength could dwell in gentleness. Now it would be her only protection.

Thunder growled outside, rolling through the peaks. Lightning flashed through the balcony windows, painting her reflection across the glass: a woman unmade, eyes rimmed red, hair loose and wild. She almost didnt recognize herself.

She sank at her writing table, fingers trembling as she pulled a fresh parchment toward her. The words came haltingly, as though dragged from a wound.

Kieran,

There was a time I believed the bond between us was fate. That every pain was proof of love, every silence a test of patience. I was wrong. Love is not silence. Love does not bruise the soul to make it obedient.

Her quill paused; a tear splashed on the parchment. She wiped it away and continued, slower now.

I am leaving you this letter not for forgiveness but remembrance. I loved you once, before power hollowed you. I hope one day the goddess shows you the ruin of what you chose. But you will not have my blood. You will not have our child.

She stared at the unfinished words, then folded the letter without signing it. It would never be sent. She tucked it beneath the chest, hidden among old linensa message to ghosts, perhaps, or a confession to the moon.

The chambers air grew colder. She wrapped her cloak tighter and stepped to the window. Outside, Silvercrests courtyards glistened under steady rain. The banners hung heavy, their colors muted. The whole keep seemed to mourn something unseen.

A sudden thought struck her like lightning. The child.

The only light left in her world. The only reason to keep breathing.

She turned from the window, grabbed her cloak, and hurried through the corridors. The storm outside deepened; thunder cracked so loudly that the walls quivered. Guards saluted her absently, unknowing that their Luna walked through them like a ghost.

The healers quarters lay in the east wing, lit by pale moonstones embedded in the ceiling. When Aria pushed open the door, the old healer, Sister Naeva, looked up from a table strewn with herbs and scrolls.

Luna, Naeva said, bowing. You shouldnt be walking in this weather. Your pulse

I need a reading, Aria interrupted. Now.

Naevas brows knit, but she obeyed, guiding Aria to the cushioned chair near the hearth. The air was heavy with sage and storm. Aria gripped the armrest to still her shaking.

The healer placed her hands over Arias abdomen, chanting softly in the old tongue. Her fingertips began to glow faintly, tracing patterns of lunar light across the fabric of Arias gown.

For a moment, nothing happened. Thenthree distinct pulses.

Naevas eyes widened. She drew back her hands as though burned. By the Goddess

What is it? Arias voice broke. Is something wrong?

The healers expression flickered between awe and fear. Not wrong. Impossible. There are three.

Aria blinked. Three?

Three heartbeats, Luna. Naevas voice trembled. Triplets. The Moons Triad. Such a thing hasnt happened in centuries.

The words hung in the air like thunder after lightning.

Arias breath caught. Her mind spun back to the prophecy her mother had whispered when she was a childhow once in an age, a Luna would bear the Triple Moons, children blessed and cursed by the goddess herself. Their birth heralded the rise or ruin of empires.

Her stomach twisted. Is it a blessing or a curse?

That depends on who claims them, Naeva said quietly. The goddesss favor shines through you, my lady, but such light also draws the hungriest of shadows.

Arias throat tightened. He cant know, she whispered. If Kieran learns this, hell She couldnt finish the sentence.

The healer nodded gravely. Then we hide it. Ill mark your records as inconclusive, say the energy was unstable. No one will question me.

Aria grasped the womans hand, tears brimming. Thank you.

Dont thank me, Luna. Thank the Moon for choosing you still.

When she returned to her chambers, the storm had broken fully. Rain lashed the windows, drowning out the distant bells. Aria lit every candle she could find, needing light, needing warmth. Her reflection wavered in the flamesone woman, three heartbeats, and an ocean of fear between them.

She rested her hand against her stomach again. Three of you, she whispered, almost disbelieving. Three.

A faint flutter answered from within, softer than breath. It felt like a promiseand a warning.

She drew a shaky breath and lifted her gaze toward the heavens. If this is your will, Goddess, she said aloud, then grant me strength to protect them. Take everything else, but not them.

Outside, lightning tore open the clouds. For a moment the room filled with silvery brilliance. In that flash, she thought she saw her mothers outline reflected in the mirrortall, serene, crowned with moonlight. And beneath the thunder, she heard a whisper, as soft as a lullaby:

You were never meant to be his offering, child. You were meant to be the storm that ends him.

When the light faded, only Aria remainedkneeling, trembling, but unbroken.

She rose, her decision clear as the thunder that cracked across the valley. The Blood Moon would come soon, and with it Kierans ritual. But when it did, he would find that the vessel he sought had become something far more dangerous.

Aria Valen-Draven would no longer be the offering.

She would be the reckoning.

Rain still fell when Aria returned to the healers quarters the following night. The storm had not ceased since her discoveryit felt as though the skies themselves were caught in mourning, each drop a tear from the Moon Goddess.

The corridors were nearly empty, echoing only with the soft rhythm of water against stone. The keep slept under a restless moon. Arias cloak clung to her shoulders, heavy with damp, but she barely noticed. She had not slept since learning of the three heartbeats. The knowledge thrummed beneath her skin, a rhythm both wondrous and terrifying.

When she entered, the scent of herbs and crushed petals filled the air. Sister Naeva stood by the fire, grinding resin into a bowl. Her pale hair glowed in the dim light, giving her the look of an old spirit rather than a woman.

You came, the healer said softly, not turning. I was expecting you. The Moon rarely lets those she marks rest.

Aria stepped closer. Tell me everything, she said. Her voice was steady, but her fingers clenched at her sides. The truth, not the kind the council teaches. I need to know what my children are.

Naevas hands stilled. For a long moment, the only sound was the crackle of the hearth. Then the healer reached for a scroll from a shelf and unrolled it across the table. The parchment was old, edges singed, the ink faded but legible. At its center were three interlocked crescents drawn in silver ink.

The Triple Moons, Naeva murmured. The goddesss most dangerous gift.

Aria leaned over the parchment. Dangerous? Theyre children, not omens.

Naevas gaze met hers, pitying and grave. And yet the prophecy does not see them as children. Listen, my lady.

Her voice dropped into the cadence of the old tongue, reciting words older than any pack.

When darkness devours the light and the red moon bleeds anew,

three hearts shall beat as one beneath the chosen womb.

From their cries the world shall tremble; from their breath, the balance bends.

Where they walk, thrones shall crumble, and Alphas shall fall.

The words hung between them like smoke.

Arias pulse quickened. Thrones shall crumble She looked up sharply. The prophecy says they bring ruin?

Or renewal, Naeva replied. The seers never agreed. Some believed the Triple Moons would restore harmony to the packs; others that theyd usher in an age of blood. But all agreed on one thingno Alpha who fathered them ever lived to see their first cry.

Silence fell.

Aria felt the world tilt slightly, her breath catching. No Alpha survives she repeated.

It is said the goddess claims her due, Naeva continued. For the gift of three lives, she takes one bound by oath. The mates blood feeds the balance. The first mother of the Triple Moons lost her Alpha on the eve of their birth. Every record since ends the same.

Arias throat went dry. In another lifeanother loveshe might have mourned such a fate. But now, standing beneath the weight of betrayal, the prophecy struck her differently. Kieran would die if the goddesss word proved true. Once, that thought would have broken her. Tonight, it felt like justice.

Still, the danger was not his deathit was what he would do to prevent it.

Kieran would never accept this, she said quietly. If he learned, hed call it treason against the Moon herself.

Naeva nodded. Hed try to end it before the prophecy could take root. You know the Alpha creedif something threatens his rule, it must be destroyed.

Aria pressed a hand to her stomach, feeling the faintest flutter beneath her palm. Then he cannot know. Not until its too late for him to stop it.

Not until youre far from here, the healer corrected.

The words struck with finality. Far from here. Away from the stone walls she had called home, the keep she had bled for, the kingdom she had been bound to by love and illusion. A home built on her own undoing.

A flicker of lightning flashed through the narrow window, bathing the room in white light. For an instant, the silver crescents on the parchment seemed to move, alive under the Moons power.

Aria straightened, her voice firm. You said the goddess rarely lets those she marks rest. Then she must also guide them. Tell me how to leave unseen.

Naeva hesitated. Leaving Silvercrest means exile. The border patrols will smell your scent before you reach the river.

Then Ill hide it, Aria said. You once told me scent can be masked with ashroot and wolfsbane.

The healers eyes softened with sorrow and pride. You remember well.

They worked together in silence. Naeva crushed herbs into a bitter paste, mixing them with melted tallow. She instructed Aria to anoint her wrists and neck, erasing the scent that marked her as Luna. The smell was acrid, biting, but necessary.

When the mixture was done, Naeva pressed a small vial into Arias hand. Keep this close. It will hide your trail for three nights. After that, the Moon will decide.

Aria tucked it into the folds of her cloak. Three nights will be enough.

The healer studied her for a long moment. You are not the same woman who came to me yesterday.

I cant afford to be, Aria said.

Outside, thunder rumbled again. The firelight danced across her face, catching the glint of the Moons Tear pendant at her throat.

Naeva spoke again, softer now. Theres more. The prophecy mentions another lineone I did not read aloud. She hesitated, then recited, voice low as a secret:

Guard them in shadow, raise them in flame;

the Luna who runs shall rise again.

Arias breath caught. Runs. The word felt like an order.

The goddess doesnt command, my lady, Naeva said gently. She warns. When the Blood Moon rises, you must already be beyond these walls. The Triple Moons must be born under no Alphas name.

Arias heart pounded. She imagined the path through the forest, the cold river crossing, the uncertain wilderness beyond Silvercrests borders. Fear clawed at her throat, but beneath it burned something fiercera spark of defiance, perhaps even hope.

She bowed her head to the healer. Thank you, Sister. If the goddess is merciful, well meet again.

Mercy rarely takes the form we expect, Naeva replied. Go with her light, child.

Aria turned toward the door, but the healers voice followed her, trembling with both warning and reverence. Remember, Lunawhen you carry three hearts, you carry three fates. The world will follow your choice.

Aria paused at the threshold. For a heartbeat, she looked backat the healer, the parchment, the glow of the embersand felt the weight of destiny settle over her shoulders like a cloak.

Ill make sure they live, she said quietly. Even if the world ends for it.

Then she stepped into the corridor, where the storms roar met her like a challenge.

As she walked, lightning illuminated her path, guiding her toward the grand stairwell that led to the upper halls. Each flash seemed to echo a heartbeatone, two, threesteady, defiant.

By the time she reached her chamber again, dawn was a smear of gray over the mountains. The rain had slowed, but the wind still howled. She stood by the window, watching the horizon.

The next full moon would come in seven nights.

Seven nights to disappear.

Seven nights before the prophecy demanded its due.

Aria pressed her palm to the glass, watching the first fragile rays of light pierce the storm. Theyll call me cursed, she whispered. But curses are only blessings the wrong hearts fear.

Behind her, the Moons Tear pendant shimmered once, brighter than before, as though the goddess herself had heard.

And somewhere deep in the mountains, far beyond Silvercrests reach, the wind carried a promise through the dark:

The Luna who runs shall rise again.

The night air of Silvercrest was crisp, almost sharp enough to cut. Lanterns glimmered along the outer walls of the keep, their golden light reflecting on the wet stones like liquid fire. Arias cloak, heavy with rain from the morning, brushed against her boots as she ascended the grand steps. Every echo of her footsteps seemed magnified, a drumbeat heralding the betrayal she knew awaited her.

Inside, the hall was transformed. Silver chandeliers hung from vaulted ceilings, scattering fractured light across crystal glasses and polished floors. Every surface gleamed with opulence, from the gilded chairs to the ornate tapestries depicting the kingdoms founding Alphas. Masks concealed faces, yet not the sharp edges of whispered malice. Every curve of silk, every practiced bow, every tilt of the head seemed designed to remind her that she was no longer untouchable, that she had been unmade.

Lyras voice rang out before Aria even glimpsed her. Tonight, we honor the service of our Luna, she announced, her tone silk and steel intertwined. The words were false, dripping with reverence that stung worse than any insult. Arias fingers clenched at her sides, fingernails digging into her palms. Service? Service was loyalty, sacrificeand here she was, a puppet in a celebration of her own erasure.

Her eyes scanned the room. Kieran stood near the dais, tall and imposing, a mask of politeness on his face that failed to conceal his pride. His hand rested on Lyras waist as if claiming territory, the press of his palm subtle but deliberate. Lyras smile was wide, eyes bright with mock adoration. Together, they were a perfect picture of a courtly power play, a tableau meant to humiliate and assert dominance in a single stroke.

Kieran lifted his glass, the crystal catching the chandeliers light. To a new dawn of leadership, he intoned, voice smooth, echoing over the hushed hall. His gaze flickered to Aria, and she returned it with a perfect, lethal smile. Every muscle in her body ached to shatter the performance, but she let it remain. The hall erupted in applause, though she heard only the ringing of betrayal in her ears.

Servants wove through the crowd, offering silver trays of delicacies Aria did not want. She took one, letting the cool weight of a glass settle in her hand, focusing on its chill rather than the fire in her chest. Around her, masked faces murmured compliments, questions, subtle digs wrapped in polite concern. Every word was a blade, honed with precision. Every nod and tilt of the head reminded her that she was a ghost among the living, a Luna in name only.

Then Lyra appeared beside her, moving with the deliberate grace of someone who knows they are untouchable. Her voice was low, conspiratorial, a honeyed whisper. Aria, she said, eyes wide with feigned worry. Are youall right? I would never want this night to be difficult for you.

Arias gaze sharpened. Beneath the silk of Lyras collar, she caught a glimmer of something unnatural, faint yet undeniablea mark she knew only one could bear: the Luna mark. Kieran had sworn it belonged solely to his fated mate. Her chest tightened, pain blossoming in a way that left her breathless. Betrayal had a scent, and tonight it hung thick in the air.

Imfine, Aria said, her voice steady despite the tremor threatening to surface. Every syllable was measured, every smile rehearsed. Inside, she felt shards of glass press against her ribs. Truly.

Lyras smile widened, predatory and triumphant. Of course. You always do your duty so gracefully. Her hand brushed Arias briefly, almost casual, as if sealing the wound with salt. The words were poison, the gesture a mockery.

Aria turned, letting the rooms glitter and candlelight wash over her in a dizzying haze. The murmurs, the subtle bows, the careful positioning of noblesall of it was a performance, but beneath the surface was truth: Kierans heart had shifted, Lyra had claimed what was never hers to take, and Aria had no place in this world anymore. The storm of the morning had followed her into this gilded cage, its memory a promise that she could not stay.

The gala stretched on like an interminable nightmare. Music swelled, strings and flutes weaving a song that seemed to mock her. Kierans laughter rang across the hall, and every time his hand brushed Lyras, every time their eyes met, Aria felt her own heart twist with betrayal. She sipped from her glass, savoring the cold clarity it brought. Each swallow was a vow she had yet to speak aloud.

Later, when the crowd thinned and the masks became heavier with exhaustion, Aria found herself near a balcony. The night wind lashed at her hair, carrying the scent of the storm from earlier. She pressed her hand to the railing, staring at the mountains in the distance, at the dark forests that promised freedom and unknown dangers alike.

Her mind replayed the mark. The mark that Kieran had sworn belonged only to her. The mark that now belonged to Lyra. Her chest tightened. Her pulse quickened. The prophecys words, Naevas warnings, the Triple Moons fragile heartbeat beneath her fleshthey all collided into a singular truth: she could not remain. Not tonight. Not ever.

Arias lips pressed into a thin line, and for the first time in many weeks, she allowed herself a moment of raw clarity. She would leave before dawn. She would vanish into the shadows, into the wilderness beyond the keep, into a life forged from secrecy and survival. Kierans kingdom, his games, his false praiseall of it would remain behind, a tomb for the past she would burn with every step she took.

One last look at the glittering hall, the silver chandeliers, the false smiles, the treacherous hand resting on Lyras waist, and she felt something shift inside her. A resolve solidifying like ice in her veins. She would disappear before the world even had a chance to mourn her absence.

The wind carried her thoughts outward, whispering across the jagged peaks and forests. Freedom waited in the dark, and with it, a chance to protect what no one could touchthe Triple Moons. She pressed her hand to her chest, feeling the faint, impossible flutter of three heartbeats.

The night, the gala, the betrayalit would all fall behind her. She would rise again. The Luna who runs shall rise again.

Aria turned back to the hall one last time. The lights, the whispers, the gilded prisonthey would remember her absence, but not her power. Not the prophecy she carried, not the future she would carve with her own hands.

And with that thought, she melted into shadow, the first steps of her escape echoing softly against the stone, quiet yet resolute. The world would follow the Triple Moons fate, but only on her terms.

Aria moved like a phantom through the keeps lower corridors, her cloak hissing softly against the stone floor. Every step carried the weight of treachery and destiny intertwined. She had rehearsed this escape a thousand times in her mindthe silent passage through the stables, the hidden saddle beneath the hay, the scent of ashroot masking her presencebut reality was never so pliable to ones wishes.

The stables loomed ahead, their wooden doors dark and foreboding, a promise of freedom only a heartbeat away. Arias hand rested on the latch, fingers trembling, not from fear but from the searing anticipation of release. Her children moved beneath her ribs, tiny flutters against the grip of destiny, reminding her that she was not fleeing only for herself. The Triple Moons demanded survival, demanded secrecy, demanded she outrun the fate that sought to claim them before it even began.

A sounda boot against stonemade her freeze. Heart hammering, she pressed herself against the shadow of the doorway. The night was not silent. A door creaked somewhere above, faint whispers of guards patrolling. Then came a slower, heavier footstep, deliberate, measured. Kieran.

Her stomach coiled. She had known this moment might come, had imagined it countless times beneath the moons silver gaze, but imagining does not steel the heart against reality. She slipped from shadow to shadow, praying he had not yet noticed the stall where her mare waited, the saddle fastened with stolen precision.

A voice, smooth as steel, broke the night. Do you think me so blind, Aria?

She froze, hand inches from the stall door, every nerve screaming. He was theretall, regal, yet coiled like a predator ready to strike. His eyes, usually masked by a controlled calm, now burned with fury that chilled the marrow. Running, he continued, each word deliberate, does not become a Luna. And yet, here you are.

I Her voice faltered, betraying the fear she had worked so hard to mask. I only meant

Spare me your lies, he cut her off, stepping into the stables with an ease that left shadows clinging to his heels. Do you think the rival packs will forgive your betrayal? Do you think I will?

Aria swallowed hard, trying to steady her voice. Kieranyou must understand. I carry your heirs. The Triple Moons. They are

He laughed, and it was a sound that scraped along her skin like iron on stone. A cruel, cold laughter that held no warmth, no tenderness. Heirs? he echoed, eyes narrowing. Heirs born of a lie have no throne. You dare to speak of my children while plotting to flee?

The world tilted. His hands moved before she could, striking her across the jaw with the flat of his palm. Pain flared like fire, sharp and immediate, and she stumbled back against the wooden post. Her vision blurred, yet the heartbeat within her, multiplied and thrumming, reminded her she could not falter. Not yet.

Guards, he commanded, voice low but lethal. Two figures emerged from the shadows, silent and efficient. They closed in on her, restraining her as if she were already a criminal condemned. Aria struggled, but even her strength felt dulled by the raw sting of betrayal, by the cruel impossibility of outrunning what fate itself seemed determined to enforce.

You will stay, Kieran said, his gaze cutting into hers like a blade. Below ground, until the ritual. You will witness nothing and speak nothing. And if I discover another act of defiance His eyes darkened, the promise unspoken yet absolute. the goddess herself will not shield you.

The guards dragged her toward the cold, narrow stairs that led to the dungeon beneath the keep. Arias boots scraped against stone, her breath ragged, the air thick with the metallic tang of fear. Chains clinked against iron as they forced her into the cell, the heavy door slamming shut with a finality that echoed like a death knell.

The darkness was immediate, complete. Only the faintest trickle of moonlight fell through the iron grate high above, painting thin lines across the floor. Aria collapsed against the wall, knees drawn to her chest, the reality of her failure crashing down. The Triple Moons stirred inside her, tiny flutters that mirrored her own panic. The goddesss words from Naevas teachings whispered in the corners of her mind, fragile and urgent: Run, child of silver. Run before the dawn drinks your blood.

She pressed her hands to her stomach, feeling the three separate pulses that had become her constant companions. The sound of her own breathing seemed too loud in the enclosed space. Her heart raced with terror and fury. Kieranhe had transformed before her eyes, his love twisted into dominion, his loyalty to her shattered into shards. And now, she was trapped, a prisoner of the very man who had once sworn to protect her.

Her lips moved, whispering vows she could barely hear herself form. I will not let themmy childrenfall to your cruelty. I will not be the Luna who dies in shadows while the world calls me traitor. I will not Her voice cracked. The darkness pressed closer, yet she drew in a steadying breath. Even in the abyss, even beneath the keep, the Triple Moons pulsed with life, a rhythm of defiance that steadied her resolve.

The cell was colder than she expected, and the stone walls seemed to hum with the weight of ancient authority. The scent of damp earth and iron filled her nostrils, mingling with the faint echo of Kierans last words, his laughter. She clenched her fists against her knees, nails biting into skin, focusing on the smallest detailthe beat of three hearts, the faint quiver beneath her touch. Life, even in confinement, was hers to protect.

Hoursor perhaps minutespassed. Time lost meaning in the darkness, each heartbeat a drumbeat of potential doom. Aria imagined the sunrise, imagined Kierans face as he celebrated his supposed victory, imagined Lyras smug smile in the hall she had once called home. The image was sharp, but it fueled a fire inside her, a spark that even iron doors could not smother.

The goddesss voice, soft and insistent, returned to her. Run, child of silver. Run before the dawn drinks your blood. It was not just a warningit was a command, a lifeline thrown into the shadow of despair. Aria felt the stirrings of purpose ignite in her chest. She might be confined, betrayed, beaten, and brokenbut she would find a way. The prophecy had not failed her; it was only waiting, patient as the stars, for her to claim it.

A shiver ran down her spine as the first distant sound of movement aboveground reached her ears. The keep was alive, plotting, scheming. Kieran had not yet forgotten, would not yet relent. But Aria clenched her teeth, a slow, deliberate fire kindling behind her eyes. She would endure. She would survive. And when the time came, she would rise from these shadows, carrying the Triple Moons with her.

She pressed her palm to the floor, feeling the vibrations beneath the stone, the heartbeat of the world beyond the walls. Even here, she was tethered to something greater than fear, greater than the cruelty of an Alpha who had forgotten what it meant to love. The prophecy was not just a warning; it was a promise. The Luna who runs shall rise again, stronger and sharper than the chains that sought to contain her.

The first light of dawn would not find her powerless. She would not meet it in chains. The Triple Moons would not be born under the dominion of a false ruler. And Kieranif he wished to claim what was never his to commandwould have to reckon with the reckoning that Aria had only just begun to prepare.

The cell was silent, save for her own measured breathing and the faint, insistent flutters beneath her heart. She allowed herself a single thought, fierce and unyielding: I will not be broken. I will not be silenced. I will not fail them.

And somewhere, beyond the walls of stone and shadow, the wind carried a whisper of what was to come: the goddess had not forgotten.

The Triple Moons destiny had only just begun.