The Moonstone Curse

Sentiments

Livia POV

I wish my pack could see this place. It's everything they ever wanted, everything Emery and I promised they would have under our rule. Nestled in the woods, hidden by the mountains, the wolves here live in harmony with the land. They use ancient medicines, celebrate the Goddess, and follow the traditions of our creator with reverence. It feels like stepping back in time, to an era where wolves were one with the earth, equal to the dirt they came from and would one day return to.

A tear slips down my cheek as I watch the couples standing on the makeshift stage, accepting each other as mates. The males, with their proud, gentle hands, offer the females dressed in white silk a single flower, their lips brushing tenderly in a symbolic kiss. The women then kneel before their mates, not in submission, but in sacred acceptance. They lift their hands to the sky, flowers outstretched, as if offering their union to the Gods themselves. It’s an ancient ritual—traditional, raw, beautiful.

The weight of this place, of the ceremony, pulls at my heart. It's everything my pack yearned for, everything we lost. My chest tightens with a mixture of awe and grief.

Before I hear him, I feel him. His presence presses against me like a storm cloud on the horizon. Zeke’s firm chest brushes my back, his energy heavy and inescapable, casting a shadow that wraps around me, pulling me into his gravity. His breath grazes the nape of my neck, sending shivers racing down my spine. “Each flower is unique to the couple,” he murmurs, his voice low and intimate, like a secret shared between us alone. “Sunflowers signify joy and happiness. That is his promise to his mate.”

I peer at the vibrant sunflower for a moment, imagining the joy it must represent to the couple, but I quickly move on, eager to learn more. His voice is a pull I can’t resist.

“The pink dahlia given to the black-haired girl,” he continues, his words soft as his finger trails down my spine, barely a whisper against my skin, “is a promise of commitment.” My breath hitches, but he goes on, oblivious—or maybe not. “And the white lily symbolizes purity and innocence. They are the youngest couple. It seems they have saved themselves for each other.”

I finally muster the courage to glance over my shoulder, meeting Zeke's gaze just as he slips a red tulip into my hand, his fingers brushing mine with a gentleness I didn’t know he was capable of. His touch lingers for a heartbeat too long. “Come, the Alpha has agreed to let us speak with the shaman tonight.” His tone is businesslike, yet something deeper lingers in his words—something he doesn’t acknowledge. He doesn’t even explain the meaning of the flower he just placed in my hand.

His fingers wrap around my wrist, intending to lead me away, but I plant my feet and pull back. “Wait...” My eyes drift back to the couples, now mingling happily among the crowd, basking in the afterglow of their bonding. “I want to stay for the ceremony.”

A flicker of amusement lights Zeke’s dark eyes, and his lips curl into a smirk that sends my pulse racing. “Stray,” he murmurs, his voice deep and teasing, “the ceremony is over. Now they mate to seal their bond. You’re welcome to stay and watch… if you want.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I lower my gaze, embarrassed by the flush of warmth spreading through me. To distract myself, I bring the tulip to my nose, inhaling its sweet, delicate scent. “What does the red tulip mean?” I ask, hoping my curiosity will cover my flustered state.

For the first time, Zeke seems caught off guard. His hand moves to the back of his neck, rubbing it awkwardly, his eyes dropping to the ground as if the answer is too heavy to meet my gaze. His silence lingers, and just when he’s about to speak, Rowan strides over, shattering the moment.

“We’ve got one hour before the shaman is needed at the end of the ceremony,” Rowan announces briskly, his presence pulling us back into the reality of why we’re here.

Zeke straightens, the moment between us dissolving into the cool night air. But as we walk, my fingers curl around the red tulip, holding it tight. Something unspoken hums in the air between us, and despite Rowan’s interruption, I can’t help but wonder what Zeke was about to say—and what the red tulip truly means.

***

The week before Alpha Whitefang murdered my father in cold blood, he hinted at something hidden in my lineage, something more than I had ever been led to believe. He’d always called me cursed, said that white wolves were never meant to roam these lands. But on the night I accepted Emery’s proposal, he changed his tone. He told me, cryptically, that I was of a "ghost breed." I never understood what he meant until Zeke brought me here, to the Ivory Eclipse pack.

These wolves… they’re like me. White wolves, like shadows of the moon.

They’re a vision of what I might have been born into—my mother’s pack, perhaps.

Only Emery knew my secret. He found me in the woods one day, hiding and playing alone. We were just kids then, but he didn’t see a curse; he saw something to cherish, a promise he’d made to protect me. Emery worshipped the ground I walked on, and that’s why I accepted his proposal. He knew me, all of me, even the parts I hid from the world.

“Who is Emery?” The shaman’s voice cuts through my memories, her black eyes like mirrors, reflecting secrets I thought I’d hidden.

Straightening, I feel Zeke’s gaze burn into me, waiting for my answer. “He is my fiancé,” I reply, though the words come out with less confidence than I intend.

The shaman lifts a finger, her black-painted nail glinting in the firelight. “Was your fiancé,” she corrects, her tone sharp. “He should no longer occupy space in your mind.”

“Him and I are meant to rule my pack,” I retort, a hint of defiance in my voice.

She steps closer, so near I can smell the ceremonial herbs embedded in her skin. She lowers her voice to a murmur only I can hear, “This is your pack. Our eyes aren’t designed to look behind us—focus on what’s in front of you.”

A shock pulses through me as her words hit home, a hidden confirmation of what I’ve suspected: this is my mother’s pack.

I’d come here seeking clarity on Zeke, desperate to understand why the Goddess bound my fate to his. But now, my mother’s secrets press in on me, demanding my attention. I ignore the shaman’s cryptic advice and press forward. “Why did my mother leave?”

The shaman’s expression hardens, and she turns away, busying herself with the fire. My hopes shatter as she coldly tosses more herbs onto the flames, casting wild shadows across her face. She finally turns back to me, her arms raised, gaze lifted to the sky. “I’m not here to teach you history, child.” She looks to the Alpha of Ivory Eclipse, who stands solemnly behind Zeke. “It’s your duty to educate her on her lineage,” she commands.

With a silent nod, the Alpha agrees, and the shaman turns her full focus to Zeke. She kneels before him, and as their eyes lock, a sudden tremor ripples through the ground beneath us. My breath catches—I think it’s just my imagination until I see the shock in the faces around me, a collective intake of breath from everyone… except the Alpha and Luna. They stand motionless, expressions unreadable, as if waiting for Zeke to unlock some long-buried truth.

After an eternity, the shaman’s body jerks, and she stumbles backward, her wide eyes filled with an intensity I can only describe as terror. Wrinkles crease her face, forming a look that’s part fury, part fear, as though she’s seen something dreadful.

“At the end of the war,” she rasps, “there will be only one pack.”

Her lifeless gaze fixes on Zeke, her fingers trembling as she gropes blindly for sage to cleanse the thick, oppressive air around us. Then she turns her head slowly, her movements unnatural, almost puppet-like, until her hollow eyes lock onto me. Her arms drop, hands slack at her sides, her voice shifting into something deep and majestic, resonant and ethereal—a voice that sends an icy thrill down my spine. Even my wolf whimpers, cowering within me. “You two are the bond that will rekindle the war. Do not fight it. It is the fate of my creation.”

A gasp echoes through the clearing as Luna Aspen falls to her knees, baring her neck in complete submission to the possessed shaman. Her husband follows, lowering his head in reverence, and soon both press their foreheads to the ground, honoring the spirit speaking through her.

Before I can react, Zeke’s hand is on my arm, guiding me firmly to my knees beside him. I resist, confused, but he gently insists, urging me downward. I don’t fully understand, but my wolf does. She howls in rejoicing, submitting instinctively, and my own heartbeat pounds in awe as the truth dawns.

Goddess Selene. Our creator.