Elara stood in her small room at the Silverfang lodge, her fingers shaking a little as she smoothed the deep blue gown her father had picked out for her. The fabric felt soft, almost like the river that ran through their valley—a river she'd always loved to sit by when things got too heavy. She caught her reflection in the cracked mirror on the wall. Her dark hair spilled over her shoulders, and her blue eyes looked wide, full of hope and a bit of fear. She didn't look like a luna, not yet, but tonight, she'd become one. At least, that's what she kept telling herself.
Her best friend Mira was sprawled on the bed, kicking her boots against the furs. "You look amazing, El," she said, her red curls bouncing as she grinned. "Darius is gonna lose his mind when he sees you." Elara forced a smile, but her stomach twisted into knots. She wasn't a warrior like the other wolves in her pack. She was the quiet one, the dreamer, the one everyone seemed to overlook. But her father, Alpha Garrick, had chosen her to seal the peace treaty with the Nightclaw Pack. A marriage to their alpha, Darius, would end years of fighting between their packs. It was her duty, he'd said. Her destiny.
"I hope so," Elara said softly, her fingers brushing the silver pendant at her throat. It was shaped like a crescent moon, a gift from her mother, who'd passed away when Elara was just a pup. The pendant felt warm against her skin, like it was trying to tell her something, but she shook off the thought. She was just nervous, that's all. Her father's voice called from the hall, pulling her out of her thoughts.
"Elara, it's time!" Garrick's tone was firm, but when he stepped into the room, there was a softness in his eyes. He was a big man, with a graying beard and scars that told stories of battles he'd fought. "You're doing this for the pack," he said, resting a hand on her shoulder. "I know you'll make us proud."
She nodded, her throat tight. "I'll try, Father." But as they left the lodge and climbed into the carriage, her heart started pounding harder. The forest blurred past them, the trees dark and silent, and the air grew colder the closer they got to the Nightclaw fortress. It sat on a rocky plateau, its stone walls looking like they'd been carved straight out of the mountain. Elara's breath caught in her chest as they passed through the gates, the weight of the moment pressing down on her like a heavy stone.
The grand hall inside was loud and warm, a sharp contrast to the chilly night outside. Fire pits roared, casting flickering shadows on the stone walls, and long tables were piled high with food—roast venison, fresh bread, bowls of berries. The smell of meat and smoke filled the air, mixing with the tension that hung over the room. Silverfang wolves stood on one side, Nightclaw on the other, their smiles tight and forced. Elara felt their stares as she walked in beside her father, her gown swishing against the floor. Some wolves nodded politely, but others—mostly Nightclaw—sneered, their eyes cold and judging.
Garrick raised his goblet, his voice booming over the crowd. "Tonight, we unite our packs through my daughter, Elara, and Alpha Darius!" Cheers broke out, but they sounded rough, uneven, like the wolves weren't sure if they should be happy or not. Elara's eyes were locked on the dais at the front of the hall. And then she saw him—Darius, striding through the crowd like he owned the air itself. He was tall, with broad shoulders and dark hair that brushed his collar. His storm-gray eyes locked onto hers, and something inside her snapped into place—a pull, deep and warm, like a thread tying her to him. The mate bond. Her heart raced, her skin tingling with a heat she'd never felt before. She could almost imagine his hands on her, pulling her close, his lips brushing hers. The thought made her cheeks flush, her breath hitching as she stared at him.
He felt it too—she could tell by the way his jaw tightened, his gaze flickering with something raw. But then his expression turned cold, like a wall slamming down between them. The cheers died as he stepped onto the dais, his presence silencing the hall. "I reject this union," he said, his voice sharp and cold, cutting through the noise like a knife. "Elara is not fit to be my luna. She is weak, and Nightclaw deserves better."
The words hit her like a punch to the gut, stealing her breath. The hall went silent for a heartbeat, then erupted in gasps and whispers. Elara's chest burned, her hands trembling at her sides. Weak? She wasn't a warrior, that was true, but weak? "You don't know me," she said, her voice shaking but loud enough for everyone to hear. "You don't know what I can do." Her eyes locked onto his, daring him to look away, but he just stared at her, his gaze hard. For a moment, she thought she saw something flicker in his eyes—regret, maybe?—but then he turned away, dismissing her like she was nothing.
Darius's fists clenched at his sides, the mate bond a living thing inside him, clawing at his control. He could still feel her, that pull, that heat, like a fire he couldn't put out. Her defiance, the way she'd stood there, chin high despite her trembling voice—it stirred something in him he didn't want to name. But his pack needed strength, not a dreamer. His father's voice echoed in his mind: A luna must be a warrior. He couldn't falter, not now. Yet as he turned away, her scent—wildflowers and rain—lingered, haunting him.
The whispers in the hall grew louder, a wave of voices calling her "the rejected omega," "the weakling." Elara's face burned, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might burst. She couldn't take it anymore. She turned and ran, her gown trailing behind her as she fled through the hall, the crowd parting like a sea. She didn't stop until she reached the courtyard, the cold night air biting at her skin. She stumbled to a stop by a stone fountain, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Tears stung her eyes, and this time, she couldn't hold them back. They fell hot and fast, her hands clenching into fists as she sank to her knees. She'd failed—failed her father, her pack, herself. How could she face them now?
A shadow moved in the darkness, and Elara's head snapped up, her hand flying to her pendant. "You're not leaving, are you?" a gruff voice asked. An older wolf stepped into the moonlight, his hair streaked with silver, his eyes sharp and knowing. Elara scrambled to her feet, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. "Who are you?" she asked, her voice trembling. She didn't know this wolf, and after everything that had just happened, trust felt like a dangerous thing.
"Name's Eldric," he said, his tone steady but not unkind. "I've been watching you, girl. You've got fire in you, even if you don't see it yet." He took a step closer, his gaze flicking to the pendant at her throat. "I can help you prove them wrong—if you're willing to fight for it."
Elara's heart raced, her mind spinning. Fight? She'd never fought a day in her life. She wasn't a warrior, wasn't strong like the others. And this wolf—Eldric—who was he to her? Why should she trust him? "I don't even know you," she said, her voice cracking. "Why would you help me? Why should I believe you?"
Eldric's eyes softened, just a little. "Because I've seen what happens to wolves who let rejection break them," he said. "And I don't think you're one of them. You've got a spark, Elara. I can help you turn it into a flame. But it won't be easy. It'll hurt, and you'll want to quit. So you need to decide—right now—if you're ready to fight for yourself."
Elara's breath hitched, her fingers tightening around her pendant. She wanted to prove them wrong, wanted to show Darius and everyone else that she wasn't weak. But the thought of fighting, of facing more rejection, more pain—it scared her. She looked at Eldric, searching his face for any sign of a lie, but all she saw was a quiet kind of strength. Maybe he was right. Maybe she did have a spark. But was she brave enough to let it grow?
"I… I don't know," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I need to think—" Her words cut off as a distant howl echoed through the night, sending a shiver down her spine.