The scent of pine and moon-soaked earth drifted through the tall windows of the Nightfall estate. Seraya stood at the edge of the balcony, the wind tugging at her loose braid as she gazed out across the Hollowlight territory—the land her parents once protected, the land she had been born to serve.
She remembered when the world had felt simple.
As a child, Seraya had run barefoot through these woods, her laughter echoing through the trees like birdsong. Her father, Alpha Ryden, had taught her to track by scent before she could even shift, his deep voice rumbling with pride every time she got it right. Her mother, Luna Elira, had trained her hands not only to wield a dagger but to heal a wound, soothe a frightened pup, and show mercy without losing strength.
Their bond had been unshakable. In battle, they fought back-to-back; in council, they ruled side by side. But in private… in private, they danced. Seraya used to hide behind the staircase just to watch them move to the music of their souls, her father's hand over Elira's heart as though he was holding the moon itself.
"I will never settle for less," Seraya whispered to herself as a young girl. "I will have that kind of love."
And she had believed she did. Once.
Back then, she thought fate had smiled on her the day Kael Ashmark's scent collided with hers. The mate bond had snapped into place with a rush so intense it knocked her to her knees. He had been strong, commanding, and—at the time—tender. He'd promised her loyalty, leadership, and love. He had claimed her before the pack as his Luna, and she had lowered her head in submission, not out of weakness, but out of love.
She remembered one perfect night with Kael, years ago, when the moon was full and their hearts still beat in unison. He had wrapped his arms around her in the garden, whispering, "You are my moonlight, Seraya. My warrior queen." He had kissed her forehead then, and she believed—truly believed—that they would lead together as her parents once had.
But something had shifted. The warmth had faded. His eyes wandered. His touch grew cold.
Now, as the morning mist rose from the woods and curled around the estate like smoke, Seraya felt that childhood warmth vanish, replaced by a gnawing ache in her chest. She pressed her palm to her heart as if to hold in the pieces.
She had once dreamed of love that looked like her parents'. Now, she stood on the edge of a cliff, unsure if what she had with Kael had ever truly been love—or simply the illusion of it.
And illusions had no place in a queen's heart.
Later that morning, Seraya moved through the halls of the Hollowlight manor with the kind of quiet grace she had been praised for since taking her Luna vows. Pack members nodded respectfully as she passed—warriors bowed their heads, younger wolves offered reverent smiles. To them, she was strength cloaked in elegance, a symbol of tradition and loyalty.
She had grown into the Luna role with the discipline of a soldier and the heart of a daughter who had witnessed greatness firsthand. Her mother once said, "A true Luna leads without needing to roar. The moon never begs the stars to follow—it simply rises."
And Seraya had risen. She oversaw dispute mediation among pack members, personally trained young she-wolves in defense, and ensured the healer's den never lacked for herbs. On days Kael traveled to neighboring packs, she held council in his stead. The pack trusted her—some even more than they trusted their Alpha.
Yet Kael had grown distant.
The changes were small at first—missed meals, quiet silences, the way he'd retreat to his office without so much as brushing his hand against her waist. They hadn't shared a run under the moon in weeks. And though their bond remained intact, pulsing faintly in the back of her mind, it felt… duller somehow. Muted. Like a flame fighting through fog.
"You've got that look again," a voice said behind her.
Seraya turned to see Talon, leaning casually against the stone archway leading into the courtyard. His dark hair was damp from morning training, and his arms were folded, the tattoo of his pack rank just visible beneath his rolled sleeve.
She exhaled. "What look?"
"The one that says something's burning, but you can't quite smell the smoke." He tilted his head. "Want to spar it out?"
She allowed herself a half-smile. "I don't need sparring. I need answers."
He walked beside her now, his tone dropping. "Still no word from the scouts you sent?"
"They reported Kael was at the Stormfang border, supposedly negotiating trade terms," she said. "But the meeting wasn't scheduled until next week. That's the second time he's left early without notice."
Talon gave her a sidelong glance. "You want me to dig deeper?"
"No," she said too quickly. Then, more softly, "Not yet. I'll ask him directly. There's still time to believe in reason."
Talon didn't argue. He never pushed. That was part of why she trusted him—he waited until she was ready, offering silent strength when her own wavered.
As they reached the training fields, Seraya watched two young wolves spar under the morning sun. She remembered being their age, blades in hand, her father's deep voice echoing across the grounds as he called out corrections. Back then, she believed battles were fought on fields of dirt and sweat. Now, she knew better—some of the hardest wars were waged in silence, across the dinner table, between the eyes of someone you once believed in.
A shiver touched her spine, unprompted. The bond between her and Kael flickered briefly in her chest—like a candle trying to catch flame—and for a moment, she felt something foreign through it. Guilt. Maybe even… longing?
She pressed her fingers to her temple. Was she imagining things?
Before she could dwell on it, a low whistle rang from the field. One of the young warriors had managed to pin her opponent with clean, fluid technique. Seraya stepped forward, offering guidance, posture corrections, encouragement. Her voice was calm but firm—like her mother's.
As the sun climbed higher, sweat beading along her brow, she finally excused herself and made her way back inside. Talon remained outside, watching her go, jaw tense.
He had noticed the change in Kael too. But Talon, loyal to a fault, wouldn't speak a word against the Alpha unless Seraya asked him to.
She reached her chambers and closed the door behind her.
Only then did she let her shoulders drop.
Her gaze landed on the carved wooden jewelry box on her dresser—the one Kael had given her after their mating ceremony. Inside lay a pendant she rarely wore anymore: the Hollowlight crest, shaped like twin wolves curled around a crescent moon. She opened the box slowly, half-expecting the bond between them to respond.
But it remained still. Silent. A sleeping thread between two hearts, fraying at the edges.
She stared out the window once more. Somewhere beyond those trees, Kael was riding under a lie.
And Seraya was no longer sure if she should wait for the truth—or go into the forest and rip it from the roots herself.
She touched the pendant one last time, then shut the
lid.
"If love cannot be loyal," she whispered, "then let it fear me instead.