By the time I made it back to the training grounds, I'd already heard the word "mate" thirty-four times. From Mera alone.
No, seriously. Thirty-four.
The moon's gonna match me with Austin, I can feel it.
Imagine being fated to someone ugly. Can the moon even do that?
Dwyn, what if Kael gets matched with someone else?
That last one stung a little more than I wanted it to.
I pushed her voice out of my head and refocused on the path ahead—the worn-down clearing behind the Alpha's house where I trained every morning with my father. It smelled like sweat and cedar and faint traces of old blood. Familiar. Comforting. Real.
My staff rested in my grip, smooth from years of use. I spun it once. It fit my hand like memory.
Papa—Alpha Duskthorn to everyone else—was already waiting, shirtless and quiet, his arms folded as the sun filtered through the trees behind him. His scars looked like something the moon had carved with its own claws.
"You're late," he said without looking at me.
"I had to break up a muffin war. Again," I muttered. "Your other daughters are agents of chaos."
"Fiora claimed her muffin had a name this morning," he said, deadpan. "Apparently, it was called 'Greg.'"
I snorted.
But even through the laugh, I felt the static in the air. The whole pack was wound tight, buzzing with the energy that only came before Mate Giving Day. The full moon would rise tomorrow night—and with it, the ancient tradition. The magic. The mate bonds.
And maybe a broken heart.
Because even though I'd been dating Kael—Beta Thorne's son—for almost a year... there were no guarantees. The moon didn't care about feelings. Only fates.
Papa tossed me a staff. I caught it with both hands.
"Start when you're ready," he said.
I lunged.
He blocked, fast as always. "Sloppy."
"Thanks, Papa."
We sparred in silence after that. It was a language only the two of us spoke—strikes, blocks, footwork. Everything I knew about strength and grit and holding your ground, I learned from him.
But today... I wasn't fully there. My head buzzed with what-ifs.
What if I was fated to someone else?
What if Kael wasn't mine after all?
What if the moon just... stayed quiet?
And maybe worst of all: what if I wasn't chosen at all?
I was already different. Born before Papa found his Luna. Before the triplets. Before the golden-haired she-wolves that looked like storybook heroines.
I was the only Black wolf in Silverpine.
The only one whose curls didn't match the soft waves of her siblings. The only one who still got second glances at pack dinners or raised brows from Elders who "meant nothing by it."
The only one who sometimes wondered if the moon had just... forgotten her.
A sharp blow snapped me back to the present—Papa's staff slamming mine out of position and sweeping my feet from under me.
I hit the dirt hard, breath knocked clean out of me.
"You're distracted," he said. Not cruel. Just... disappointed.
I sat up, wiping my cheek with the back of my arm. "I'm allowed to be. Everyone's been buzzing since dawn."
"Let them buzz," he replied. "You focus."
I hesitated. Then: "Do you think the moon would ever... make a mistake?"
His brows furrowed. "You're worried about Kael."
"I love him," I admitted, voice smaller than I meant it to be.
"Then you'll love him tomorrow, too. Whether or not the bond forms." He paused. "But don't let your feelings make you doubt your fate. The moon doesn't ask permission. It chooses."
I swallowed.
Around us, the wind picked up. Wolves passed in the distance, laughing, sparring, glowing with the thrill of what tomorrow might bring. All of them were hopeful.
I wasn't sure if I had the luxury of hope.
DWYN, YOU TRAINING OR MAKING MUD ANGELS?
Kael's voice crashed into my head through the pack link, cocky and warm.
I winced, smirking. Sorry, I thought you were doing enough rolling in the dirt for both of us.
Liora cut in. Dwyn's gonna be mated to Kael. Calling it now.
Viora added, I bet they'll make cute pups.
Fiora: That would be iconic, honestly.
I rolled my eyes, blocking out the noise again.
When I turned back, Papa was watching me.
"Don't let the voices in your head get louder than the one in your chest," he said. "You've survived worse than a mate bond, Dwyn. You'll survive this, too."
The sun began its slow descent through the trees. Training was over.
I looked at him and asked the one question I hadn't let myself say out loud.
"What if the moon doesn't choose me at all?"
His eyes softened.
"It will," he said. "And if it doesn't... maybe it's because you were meant to choose yourself first."