Before Elara could react, Xander yanked her arms with an iron grip, dragging her out into the moon-drenched night.

Panic surged through her as she struggled, but her strength was no match for his Alpha power. He hauled her toward the Oblivion Spiral, a forbidden ride that had claimed countless lives—wolves torn apart, bones shattered, screams swallowed by the wind.

“Once, I saved you from being dishonored by strangers,” Xander’s voice was low, venom lacing each word, “Who knew you would one day use the same vile trick—drugging another to steal her fertility.”

Ignoring her gut-wrenching protests, he fastened the iron restraints over her arms and chest, the runic belts biting into her bruised skin.

His cold eyes gleamed beneath the silver moonlight, hand hovering above the enchanted control sigil like a man ready to deliver a sentence.

Elara turned toward the triplets—their faces she had once kissed a thousand times—now watching her with quiet accusation.

She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came. The mark of his disbelief was already burned into her.

The ride roared to life with a screech of metal and a surge of arcane power. Wheels screamed, chains rattled and the world spun violently.

“This is what it feels like to betray an Alpha,” Xander’s voice echoed through the night. “To destroy trust. Every bruise—you have earned it.”

The winds lashed at her hair; the cold steel cut into her skin. The longer it went, the more the pain bled into numbness. The moon above blurred into streaks of white.

From the ground, the children watched wide-eyed as their mother’s cries faded into the howl of the storm.

“Brother,” whispered the smallest one, clutching his twin’s sleeve, “Mother looks so sad… Are we wrong?”

“N-No,” the eldest replied, trembling, “Father said Aunt Ravenna knows best, so we must listen to her. She said Mother is wicked, so it must be true. Mother will forgive us later. She always does.”

Xander never shouted. He stood before the sigil board in silence, eyes fixed on the spinning cage of steel and magic, watching as Elara’s body endured wave after wave of agony. The woman he once held as sacred was now a broken shadow of herself, stripped of dignity, of warmth, of name.

When at last the ride groaned to a stop, Elara hung limply against the harness—skin raw, lips bloodied, hair tangled with frost and dust.

The Alpha who once promised her the world stood unmoving. His expression unreadable.

“All your debts,” Elara murmured through blood-stained lips, “I have repaid them now.”

Those were her last words before her world went dark.

Three nights later, Elara awoke to the faint shimmer of dawnlight through gauzy curtains. Her body felt like it had been torn apart and pieced back together by trembling hands.

Blinking through the haze, she saw Xander seated beside her bed—unshaven, eyes rimmed red, exhaustion etched deep into his face.

The moment she stirred, he lunged forward, gripping her hand with desperate relief.

“Elara! You’re awake!” His voice cracked, almost human again. He turned sharply. “Healer! Now!”

Within moments, the pack’s chief healer hurried in with scrolls and elixirs, his brows furrowed.

“Alpha Ashveil,” he began cautiously, “for the Luna to have endured such trauma—her life is no longer sustained by strength alone. Her blood disease—”

“It’s nothing,” Elara interrupted weakly, her voice calm but hollow. “Just exhaustion.”

The healer hesitated, glancing between the two, then bowed and withdrew silently. The room fell into thick, suffocating quiet.

Xander exhaled hard. Without a word, he lifted a tray from the table—soup, honeyed bread, and crushed herbs for pain. He scooped a spoonful and raised it toward her lips.

“Eat,” he said softly. His fingers brushed hers—too gentle, too late. “Tell me… how do you feel?”

Elara didn’t answer. Her eyes were glassy, unfocused, gazing somewhere beyond the walls, beyond the moon, as if seeing something Xander could never reach again.

Then, the door creaked open.

Ravenna stepped inside, cloaked in pale silk, her eyes glistening as she dragged a small travel trunk behind her.

“Elara…” she whispered, voice trembling with practiced fragility. “I—I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for things to go so far.”

Her gaze flickered toward Xander, hopeful. “But, Xander… you promised I could stay. I have nowhere else to go.”

Elara turned her head slowly toward her. Her voice was quiet, detached. “I see. She’s already moved in.”

Xander’s brows knit tightly, his tone low but commanding. “Now isn’t the time, Ravenna. Elara needs rest.”

The faint glint of victory in Ravenna’s eyes vanished instantly. “But—”

“Wait outside.”

Ravenna froze. The steel in his tone left no room for disobedience. Her lips parted, but she swallowed whatever argument she had and left, the door clicking shut behind her.

Only the two of them remained.

Xander lowered himself to his knees beside her bed. His voice was softer now, carrying the faintest edge of regret.

“Elara, for what happened to you that day… if you apologize to Ravenna sincerely, I will let it go.”

“Ravenna will remain in the Ashveil Manor for a while,” Xander’s voice echoed through the stone hall, cool and commanding. “Until the Moon Council’s unrest settles, she is to be treated as our honored guest. Elara, she has endured enough already and I expect you to make her comfortable. Can you do this for me?”

Once, such words from her mate and Alpha would have made Elara flinch. The old her would have bowed, her tail lowered, her heart desperate for his approval. Now… she only nodded faintly, eyes calm as a frozen lake.

“She can stay as long as you wish,” she said softly, her voice stripped of warmth. “And I will offer her an apology, if that will please you.”

Her hands trembled as she rose from the wolfstone bench, the faint glow of her inner Moonfire dim under her skin. She reached for a parchment embossed with the royal seal and slid it toward Xander.

“Sign here,” she murmured. “I wish to establish a healing sanctuary for pups afflicted with moon-sickness. I will oversee it personally, but your approval is needed.”

Her voice was steady, but her knuckles turned white.

This—this was her turning point. The severing of the bond.

The Divorce of the Alpha Pair.

Xander stilled. For years, Elara had followed him with unshakable loyalty, her heart bound to his shadow. Now, her sudden detachment struck him like an unfamiliar scent carried by the night wind. It unsettled him—though he couldn’t say why.

“If you don’t want to, forget it. I won’t force you.”

Elara’s tone was light, detached—as though she were discussing the weather, not the end of a sacred bond blessed by the Moon Goddess herself.

The faint disappointment in her voice pierced him like a claw to the chest. Xander grabbed the quill and pressed it hard onto the parchment.

“I was merely surprised,” he said slowly. “You’ve never asked for anything before. If this is your wish, I’ll grant it.”

The silver ink shimmered faintly as he signed his name—unaware that his signature sealed their Divine Severance.

“After years as my Luna,” he continued, “this is your first request—and even now it’s for another’s sake. You’re still too softhearted, Elara. I don’t know what made you so cruel to Ravenna, but if it’s those rumors, you’ve disappointed me greatly.”

He turned away with a weary sigh. “You should learn from Ravenna—she carries the grace of a true Luna. Though she’s the princess of the Silvermane Pack, she never abuses her power.”

Elara bowed her head, swallowing the ache that burned her throat.

Foolish...

How foolish to think love could be earned through devotion.

Hours later, the heavy oak door creaked open. Three small figures padded in—their silver eyes gleaming in the dim moonlight.

Kael whispered, his wolfish ears twitching.

“Mom’s boring. She doesn’t know anything about racing wolves. She’s kinda dumb. She could at least tell us a bedtime story.”

“She only got lucky to have us,” said the second, snickering softly. “If we sleep here, she’ll probably nag again. But she won’t say no.”

“Yeah,” the third chimed in. “She never says no. Even if we mess up her bed.”

Their words sliced through her chest like frostbitten air, but Elara only drew a slow, steady breath.

“Mom, can we stay here tonight?” they chirped, bounding forward with their small pillows, fur cloaks dragging behind them.

Her face was unreadable. The tenderness that once warmed her eyes had vanished.

“No need,” she said quietly. “Go back to your rooms.”

No anger. No affection. Just command.

The triplets froze, shock flashing across their faces.

“B-but—”

The door closed softly but decisively. For the first time, they were the ones left outside.

That night, the Moon Messenger crystal blinked faintly on her desk.

A single rune glowed across its surface:

[In three nights, I will come for you. Until then, do not let anyone break you again.]

A small smile curved her lips.

The one she once called her rival now understood her more deeply than the mate who shared her bed for five long winters.

Later that night, Xander returned late. The triplets lay asleep on the stone floor, clutching their pillows.

“Why aren’t you in your beds?” he frowned.

“Mom didn’t want us,” one mumbled, half-asleep.

Xander’s step faltered. He turned toward their chamber—only to find the Luna’s door locked.

For the first time since their mating, she had shut him out.

He stood there for a long moment, hand raised… then lowered it again.

He left without knocking.

At dawn, Elara descended the grand staircase of the Ashveil Manor, the hall bathed in pale moonlight filtered through crystal panes. She halted at the sight before her.

Ravenna stood in the kitchen, damp hair curling against her cheeks, Xander’s cloak draped loosely over her shoulders. She hummed softly, stirring a cauldron of moon-brew, while the triplets clung to her like pups to a new mother.

“We want you to be our mom, Aunt Ravenna!” Kael cried, tail wagging.

The air stilled as Elara appeared. Ravenna’s lips curved into a cruel smile.

“So, you still dare show your face?” she sneered. “Now that the true Luna is here, shouldn’t a discarded bitch like you crawl away before I toss you out myself? Maybe you’ll find a lonely old wolf who’ll keep you as his mistress.”

Elara’s chest tightened—but before she could reply, Ravenna’s scent shifted sharply. Her eyes widened as she dropped to her knees, tears welling.

“I–I didn’t mean to offend you, Luna Elara,” she cried. “I only wore the Alpha’s cloak because mine hasn’t arrived yet. Please don’t misunderstand!”

Xander, who had just entered, froze mid-step. But Elara only laughed softly—a sound that silenced the room.

“You start crying even if I breathe near you,” she said coldly. “I only came down to eat, yet you act as though I’ve struck you. Perhaps you should visit the healers. Crying this often might be a sickness.”

A stunned silence filled the kitchen. The triplets looked between the two women, wide-eyed.

Ravenna stared, speechless, as Xander’s eyes clouded—not with anger, but with suspicion.

Elara turned to him, her expression empty.

“I came to apologize, I’m sorry. This will be my last favor. Don’t push your luck further.”

Ravenna blinked through her tears.

“T-then... will you return the necklace you tore from me? It was my brother’s last gift before he fell into a moon coma saving Xander from a silver chariot crash…”

“What did you say?”

Xander’s voice sank low, each syllable cutting through the hall like a wolf’s growl before the strike. The air thickened with primal tension, the kind that made even low-ranking pack members lower their heads and bare their throats.

Everyone in the Ashveil Manor knew that speaking of that night was forbidden—

the night when the Moonfire Ridge burned, when Xander lost his father, and his little sister was taken by rogues, only to be found lifeless beneath the Blood Moon the next dawn.

And yet, here it was—dragged into the open.

Ravenna’s slender finger trembled as she pointed toward the jade talisman hanging from Elara’s throat. Its faint emerald glow pulsed like living moonlight—the kind of charm said to be blessed by the Moon Goddess herself.

Her voice dripped with honeyed poison. “This… this belongs to me.”

Elara’s brows furrowed. “What nonsense are you talking…”

She didn’t finish. The old house-nurse—an omega who had served the Ashveil line for decades—suddenly dropped to her knees, trembling. “Alpha… I cannot keep the truth anymore.”

The murmurs in the grand hall stilled.

“This morning, Luna Elara ordered the attendants to rip apart Lady Ravenna’s dresses,” the omega choked. “She mocked her, saying her brother was a cripple, cursed by the Moon, and then…” her voice wavered, “…she struck Lady Ravenna and snatched her necklace, claiming a low-born stray like her didn’t deserve such a treasure.”

The air split with shocked gasps.

“I never did such a thing.” Elara’s voice broke, disbelief and fury threading through it. Her nails bit into her palms, crimson welling beneath her claws.

“Enough!” Xander’s command cracked like thunder through the chamber. His aura—thick and suffocating—rolled over every wolf in the hall, the mark of an Alpha whose power came from royal blood. His eyes, glowing faintly silver, turned to the three young wolves huddled by the hearth—their children, triplets bound to his lineage.

“Tell me the truth,” he said, voice like frozen steel. “Did your mother say these things?”

The pups flinched. Zev, the eldest, swallowed hard, gaze darting between his father and Ravenna before falling to the floor. “W-we can’t say anything or… or Mother will hit us again.”

Elara’s breath caught. “You…is this that woman has taught you?”

Before she could say more, Enzo tugged at his sleeve, showing a faint bruise on his arm, the mark bluish under his pale skin. “See? Mother hit me. She said if we told Father, she’d hurt us again.”

His words fell heavy and poisonous. Elara felt the ground tilt beneath her feet. Years of love, of sacrifice, of standing against the scorn of the higher-blooded packs—all turned to dust.

“And Mother called Aunt Ravenna a… a whore,” Enzo added softly. “Father, what does that mean?”

Elara froze. The word tore something raw within her. “Enough! There is a limit to lies! Teaching pups such filth…Ravenna, do you have no fear of the Goddess’s retribution?”

“You dare lecture her?” Xander’s voice lashed out, heavy with dominance that crackled like lightning. His aura flared, and in a single violent motion, he ripped the jade talisman from Elara’s neck. The chain snapped; the glowing stone grazed her collarbone, leaving a streak of blood.

His eyes blazed with cold fury. “What a vile creature you are, Elara. You disgust me.”

Her knees weakened, but she didn’t look away.

“A stray with no lineage, no pack, no name. I should have known better than to think dragging an orphaned omega from the gutters and binding her as Luna would ever make her worthy of the Ashveil crest.” He sneered. “Look at you. A liar. A thief. A stain upon my bloodline.”

Elara stood trembling, her pain silent, her heart hollow. She saw it now—how his voice had always softened for others, never her. How the Moon Goddess herself must have turned her face away long ago.

“The necklace,” she whispered hoarsely. “It’s mine. It was given to me by the Oracle when I was a child. I only wore it again today—after twenty years—”

“Still lying?” Xander laughed bitterly, the sound void of soul. “You even dare invoke sacred gifts in your deceit.” His words turned venomous. “Perhaps it is the Goddess’s punishment that you lost our unborn pup three winters ago—and can never bear again.”

Elara’s world went still. Her wolf whimpered inside her, the ache of loss burning anew.

“I’ve tolerated your presence long enough,” Xander said coldly. “Today, you’ll understand what it means to lose what you hold dearly. Bring me the black urn—the one she guards like her life.”

Elara’s blood turned to ice. “No…” she whispered.

A servant obeyed. The urn—a small obsidian vessel carved with silver moons—was placed in Xander’s hands. Before Elara could move, he hurled it to the floor.

CRASH.

The sacred ashes scattered across the marble, mingling with fragments of shattered moonstone. Elara fell to her knees, trembling hands reaching for the remains, for the ashes of the pup she had once carried beneath her heart. Her tears fell freely, mingling with the dust.

“Xander… it was your child too.” Her voice was hollow, broken, echoing through the silent hall.

“You killed the last of him… the last of me.”

“Shut up!” Xander roared, his voice shaking the very air, his wolf power surging so fiercely the torches flickered out. He pointed to Ravenna, who stood demurely behind him. “Apologize to her!”

Elara lifted her head, her eyes shimmering like fractured glass. When she spoke, her tone was low, calm—a blade drawn in quiet defiance.

“You dream! I will never bow to a scheming snake.”

Xander’s fury ignited. He seized her arm and dragged her through the grand hall, through the heavy doors of the fortress and out into the raging storm. The gates of the Ashveil Pack—the grandest in all of the Shadowland—loomed before them.

He flung her to the ground. “Kneel,” he ordered, voice heavy with Alpha command. “Kneel until your mind is right. You are no Luna of mine until you learn submission.”

The gates slammed shut, cutting her off from the warmth of the pack and the home she had once protected with her life.

Rain lashed against her, cold and relentless. She sat unmoving, soaked to the bone, her wolf silent and grieving within her. At last, she slid the silver band—the Luna’s binding ring—from her finger and let it fall into the mud.

“Goodbye, Xander Ashveil.” Her voice was soft, but it struck like lightning. She lifted her chin, her eyes glowing faintly gold—the mark of her suppressed Alpha blood flaring for the first time. “From now on, we are nothing but strangers.”

Lightning tore across the sky just as a pair of headlights—bright and ghostly—pierced through the storm. A sleek black carriage, powered by runic energy and moonlight, rolled to a halt before the gates.

Its door opened. A tall figure stepped out, his aura unmistakable—power thrumming like the deep pulse of the moon. His silver eyes caught hers, ancient and fierce.

Raiden Ashveil.

The exiled heir. The elder Alpha. The wolf who had abandoned his throne and vanished beyond the borders of the Shadowland.

He strode forward, the storm parting around him, his power pressing heavy upon the land. Stopping before Elara, he pulled her into his arms, holding her close, his voice low and dangerous—carrying both promise and prophecy.

“I am here,” he murmured, his eyes glowing like molten moonfire.

“To make you mine.”