He Called Me a Liar, Now He Worships My Ashes

The silver needle caught the cold light in the sacrificial chamber. I had seen four just like it in the past five months. Elias, the pack’s junior medic, held this one. His hand shook hard enough to make the silver tip quiver, and he kept looking at the floor. He was young enough to fear an Alpha’s order more than a patient’s death. Kaelen stood beside the stone altar with his arms crossed over his chest. His silence made the chamber feel smaller. Since the guards brought me in, he had yet to look at my face. I was three months pregnant. Even one vial could kill the child. My palm covered the small rise of my stomach. A faint flutter answered me from inside. Our son was still alive, still trying. “Get on with it, Elias,” Kaelen said. “Selene is waiting.” Selene. I had swallowed that name every day since she returned. Years ago, after a rogue attack left me weak, Kaelen had stayed beside my bed for two nights. He held the cup of healing broth while I drank and wiped a stray drop from the corner of my mouth with his thumb. He would not even let the servants take the cup from him. “You are the only healer I trust, Elara,” he had whispered. “The only one whose magic calms my wolf.” Back then, he had been mine. Now every tender word belonged to her. Elias brought the needle toward the place above my heart. “Luna, please don’t fight me. I can finish faster if you stay still.” My body pulled away before I could think. Both arms folded over my stomach. Kaelen crossed the chamber in two strides. He caught my wrist and slammed it against the stone. Pain ran to my elbow as his fingers closed tighter. The same hand that once held a cup to my lips now kept me pinned to an altar. “Enough, Elara.” His face was inches from mine. “Do your duty. Do you want Selene’s death on your conscience?” I searched his eyes for the wolf who had claimed me before the Moon Goddess. I found impatience and nothing more. The fight went out of my body. My head touched the altar, and my fingers opened under his grip. For a second, Kaelen looked startled. Then he released me and motioned Elias forward. The needle entered my chest. The pain came as a deep cold instead of a clean sting, spreading beneath my ribs and down both arms. Golden heartblood crept through the tube and gathered in the vial, bright enough to shine against Elias’s fingers. My blood. My child’s chance to live. All of it going to Selene. The edges of the chamber went gray. My son kicked once, hard enough for me to feel it through the numbness. Then he went still. My body rolled against the stone. I rose above it. From near the ceiling, I saw my own face turned toward the wall. Elias dropped the empty needle and stumbled back, one hand over his mouth. The vial was full. My chest did not rise again. Kaelen hurried forward. He never touched my neck or checked my breathing. He took the vial from the tube and held it up to the light. My arm had fallen over the altar’s edge. He pushed it away with his boot. “Stop faking,” he told my corpse. “Your little performances are getting pathetic.” Then he walked toward the doors with my life in his hand. The doors opened, and Selene stood in the moonlit corridor. Her cheeks held plenty of color, and her eyes were clear. She had walked there without a maid or a cane and stood without leaning on the doorframe. She looked healthier than anyone in that chamber.