The wolfless Heir

The Verdict

Lucy cradled the infant tightly in her arms, looking deep into his innocent eyes. She felt a sudden wave of warmth as she gently patted his small head.

Desperate and broken, Mallory dragged herself across the stone floor toward Lucy. Tears streaming down her face, she grabbed the hem of Lucy's dress and pressed her hands together in a tearful plea.

“Please, Lucy... as a mother, I am begging you, please let me hold my son again in my arms,” Mallory sobbed. Her mind flashed back to raising Lucy—laughing together on the palace balcony, feeding her by hand, watching her grow, and teaching her how to read and write as if she were her own flesh and blood. Her voice broke entirely as she looked up. “I have always treated you as my own daughter. I have been there for you since you were little... Now I am begging you as a mother seeing her son for the last time. Please grant me this wish, Lucy.”

Lucy was completely torn.

Looking down at Mallory’s ravaged, bleeding body and hearing her heartbreaking, trembling voice, Lucy’s heart softened. She remembered every kindness, every moment Mallory had bathed her, fed her, and sung her to sleep. A soft, pained smile touched Lucy's lips.

“You’ve always been a mother to me, and I will never do anything to hurt you or my brother,” Lucy whispered, gently touching Mallory’s face and wiping away her tears. With trembling hands, she carefully transferred the baby back into Mallory's waiting arms.

Mallory smiled through her tears, looking down at the infant’s face. “Raven... look, your sister chose to save you,” she whispered, a faint, bittersweet laugh slipping past her lips.

Quickly darting to the door, Lucy pressed her ear against the wood to check if Kaelen’s men were still stationed outside. Hearing no footsteps, she tiptoed back into the room. Seeing Mallory smiling down at Raven, Lucy pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead and turned to leave.

Before Lucy could take a step, Mallory grabbed her hand, her eyes swimming with tears and blurred vision. Reaching beneath her pillow, Mallory pulled out a sacred pendant and pressed it firmly into Lucy’s shaking palm. They shared a final, desperate embrace, both weeping softly. Mallory whispered a promise to find her once everything settled, and fiercely urged Lucy never to return to the palace.

“Thank you for choosing your brother,” Mallory smiled through her tears. Lucy waved goodbye and slipped quietly out through the back wooden door.

Alone in the room, Mallory could no longer hold back her sobs. But when little Raven instantly reached out and grabbed her finger, her crying stopped. Staring down at him, she vowed fiercely, “Never think I abandoned you, my sweet little boy. Mommy will always love you no matter who you are. To me, you will always be my sweet little shiny baby boy.”

She bent her neck, pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead. Suddenly, heavy footsteps echoed outside—the guards were marching back toward the chamber.

Realizing she had only seconds left to save her son, Mallory sprang into desperate action. She grabbed a small woven basket and hastily packed the soft baby clothes she had sewn the night before. Laying Raven gently on the bed, she finished organizing the basket, wrapped extra garments tightly around it, and dragged it securely against her waist. Though her inner body was burning with exhaustion and pain, she refused to slacken.

Rushing to the wooden window, she scanned the courtyard below for Kaelen’s men. Seeing the coast momentarily clear, she leaped from the window without hesitation.

As soon as she hit the ground, her broken legs buckled in agonizing pain. She reached out, steadying herself against the stone wall as she breathed heavily, struggling to hold onto consciousness. Reaching down to check the basket, she let out a breath of relief when she felt Raven safely secured against her waist.

Just then, the crunch of approaching boots echoed near the labor room. Looking back at the window one last time, a fierce resolve filled her eyes: I must save you no matter the cost.

Inhaling deeply, she tapped into the last reserves of her burning inner wolf and plunged into the dark, punishing depths of the forest. Sharp tree branches tore at her bare arms, and jagged stones bruised her bleeding feet, but she refused to slow down. When she stumbled over a rock and rolled down an embankment, she instantly wrapped her arms around the basket to shield Raven from harm before pulling herself back up.

Sweat drenched her body, rapidly draining her wolf's strength. “No! This is not the time to be weak. You need to make it out of King Kaelen's forest,” she muttered through gritted teeth, her fingers freezing in the bitter night air.

Straining against utter exhaustion, Mallory looked up at the towering cliffside ahead. For a terrifying second, doubt crippled her. Her limbs shook violently, and her inner wolf begged her to stop. Gritting her teeth, she tightened the rope around her waist, placed her bloodied hands against the rock face, and used every remaining ounce of her spirit to scale the cliff.

Collapsing near the base of a giant oak tree at the top, she hastily untied the basket. Her fingers were slick with blood, but when she peeked inside and saw Raven sleeping peacefully, a soft laugh broke through her tears. She drew him close to her shoulder, rocking him gently as her tears dripped onto his forehead. His tiny heartbeat thrummed warmly and steadily against her.

Pulling out the half-jade pendant—the matching piece to the one given to Aria and Lucy—she tucked it securely inside the basket. A wave of pure heartbreak washed over her at the terrifying thought that Raven might one day grow up to hate her for abandoning him. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the basket handle, refusing to let go.

“If we ever meet again... don't hate mommy. Mommy had no choice. Please forgive mommy,” she whispered through broken, silent sobs.

Hearing faint footsteps approaching in the distance, she moved swiftly. She placed Raven gently beneath the shelter of the giant oak tree, covering the basket carefully with a pile of clothes. Kneeling in the dirt, she whispered a frantic prayer: “Oh Goddess, guide your precious descendant.”

Wiping her tears and straightening her clothes, she forced herself to turn away. She walked into the dark woods, refusing to look back for fear her resolve would shatter.

“Goodbye, my son,” she wept quietly, hurrying back toward the palace.