Chapter 3 – A Wolf in Mourning
902 Words
The forest swallowed her whole.
Lyra ran, branches clawing at her skin like accusing fingers, leaves slapping against her face. The moonlight barely cut through the canopy above, and her legs burned from the strain, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t.
The echo of Floyd’s voice haunted her.
“She's nothing, Celeste. Just a mark the Moon Goddess messed up.”
Her chest clenched at the memory. That voice, once her solace, now sliced through her like a blade. The bond that once tied them with warmth and silent understanding now hung between them like a noose. Every heartbeat screamed with betrayal.
Her wolf whimpered within, confused and hurt.
> “How can he say that? He was ours!”
“He rejected us. He doesn’t want us anymore.”
She stumbled over a tree root and collapsed onto the cold earth, sobs erupting from her like a dam finally breaking. The agony she had been trying to outrun hit her in waves — sharp, unrelenting, and cruel.
“No... No, no, no...” she gasped, curling into herself. Her fingers dug into the dirt, trying to find some anchor, some reason to keep breathing when her soul had just been ripped in half.
She had dreamed of this moment for years — the moment her mate would find her, claim her, and love her like no one else ever could. And instead, she was left alone in the woods, unwanted and cast aside like a mistake.
How could the Moon Goddess be so cruel?
A twig snapped nearby, but Lyra didn’t flinch. Let the forest take her. Let a rogue end it all.
But it wasn’t a rogue.
It was Elias, Floyd’s younger brother, and Beta-in-training. His dark hair was damp with sweat, his chest heaving, and his golden eyes glowing with concern.
“Lyra!” he called, panic in his voice as he spotted her. “Thank the Goddess. I've been looking everywhere.”
She didn't move. She couldn't.
“Don’t touch me,” she whispered when he approached.
“I won’t,” he said gently, kneeling beside her but keeping his hands to himself. “But I’m not leaving you like this.”
Silence stretched between them, broken only by her quiet cries and the rustling of leaves.
“I heard what happened,” Elias said after a while, his voice tight with anger. “He rejected you in front of everyone. And Celeste—” his fists clenched—“she knew exactly what she was doing.”
Lyra blinked slowly, her eyes dry now but swollen. “Then why didn’t anyone stop it?”
“Because we were stunned, Lyra. None of us expected that. Least of all me.” His voice cracked. “You didn’t deserve this.”
She turned her face to him for the first time, and the pain in her eyes nearly shattered him. “I waited for him,” she said, voice trembling. “I waited all my life. I prayed... I begged the Moon Goddess. And he looked at me like I was filth.”
Elias reached out then, brushing a leaf from her tangled hair. “That’s because he’s a fool.”
“He’s my mate.”
“No,” Elias said firmly. “He may be your fated mate, but that doesn’t mean he deserves you.”
Lyra's throat tightened. “The bond... it hurts. I can’t breathe.”
“I know,” Elias whispered. “But you're not alone.”
For a moment, Lyra leaned into his touch, desperate for warmth, for someone to simply see her. Not as a mistake, not as a tool, not as someone unworthy — just Lyra. A she-wolf with a broken heart and a soul full of scars.
The wind howled through the trees like a mournful cry, and Lyra felt it echo in her chest. “I should leave. I can’t stay here, Elias. Not when he’s here. Not when everyone’s looking at me like I’m cursed.”
“No,” Elias said quickly, his eyes fierce now. “Leaving isn’t the answer. They want you broken. They want you to run. Don’t give them the satisfaction.”
She laughed bitterly. “And what should I do? Stay and watch him parade her around as his Luna while I fade into nothing?”
“You rise,” Elias said, voice hard as steel. “You rise so high, they can’t even breathe in your shadow. You become stronger than the pain. You become the storm.”
His words sank into her like fire in her veins.
“You think I can?” she asked, barely a whisper.
“I know you can,” he said. “You just forgot who the hell you are.”
That night, Elias walked her back to the packhouse, but she didn’t enter. Instead, she went to the small, unused healer’s cottage near the forest line — the one abandoned since the last war. It was dusty and worn, but it was hers now.
Her own place. Her own space. A beginning.
As she lit a small fire and curled up on the cot with a borrowed blanket, Lyra stared at the flames and made herself a silent vow:
If the Moon Goddess marked her by mistake, then Lyra would rewrite her fate with blood and strength.
And Floyd?
He would regret ever letting her go.
- Writer
