Shadow Luna rising

The Last Willow

The stables were silent, save for the rhythmic crunch of hay and the low whinny of a restless mare. Seraphine moved through the shadows, her gear strapped tightly to her back. She was halfway to the exit when a soft, familiar voice stopped her in her tracks.

"You really are leaving, aren't you?"

Seraphine didn't turn around. She knew the cadence of those footsteps light, airy, and fake. "Go back to the house, Cora. You have a throne to keep warm."

Cora stepped into the pool of dim lantern light. She wasn't crying now. Her expression was calm, almost bored. She leaned against a wooden pillar, watching Seraphine with eyes that held no warmth. "Alaric thinks you’re just going on patrol. He thinks you'll come back in the morning, humbled and ready to apologize."

"I am never coming back to that house," Seraphine said, finally turning to face her former best friend.

Cora sighed, walking forward until she was only a few feet away. "Do you remember the willow tree, Sera? Where we used to sit and dream about our mates? You swore that if I ever needed anything, you’d give it to me. I guess I just took you at your word."

"I meant protection, Cora. I meant sisterhood. I did not mean you could steal my life, my mate, and my mother’s legacy."

Cora reached out, her fingers ghosting over the fabric of Seraphine's travel cloak. "It wasn't stealing. Alaric was already bored of you. He wanted someone soft. Someone who didn't smell like blood and border dirt. I just gave him what he was already looking for."

Seraphine’s hand flew to the hilt of her dagger, but she forced herself to stop. If she killed Cora, she would be nothing more than a rogue assassin in the eyes of the pack. "You aren't just a widow. You’ve been planning this since your husband died, haven't you?"

Cora smiled a cold, sharp thing that didn't reach her eyes. "He was a fool, my husband. He didn't have the ambition Alaric has. And you? You were too busy being a martyr for a pack that would forget your name in a week. I’m just upgrading, Sera. It’s what we always talked about, isn't it? Being queens?"

"You're not a queen," Seraphine spat. "You're a scavenger."

Cora’s expression darkened, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "Look at yourself. You’re leaving like a stray dog in the middle of the night. Tomorrow, I’ll tell Alaric you ran away because you couldn't handle the pressure of being Luna. I’ll be the one he comforts. I’ll be the one he holds while he forgets you ever existed."

Seraphine felt the last threads of her old life snapping. The memory of the willow tree, the friendship, the laughter, the shared secrets, it all felt like a poison she had been drinking for years.

"You think you’ve won," Seraphine said, stepping close enough that she could smell the lilies on Cora’s skin a scent she now associated with rot. "But you’re only holding the shell, Cora. Alaric doesn't love you. He loves the way you make him feel superior. And the moment you stop being fragile, the moment you stop needing him to protect you, he’ll find someone else to replace you, too."

Cora’s hand trembled, just once, before she smoothed her expression. "He’ll never replace me. I’m giving him the heir you couldn't."

Seraphine laughed a hollow, jagged sound. "You’re giving him a burden. You’ve already poisoned his judgment. You’re not his Luna; you’re his anchor, and eventually, he’s going to drown because of you."

Seraphine pushed past her, heading for the heavy stable doors.

"Sera!" Cora called out, her voice suddenly shrill. "If you walk out that door, you’re dead! There’s no one coming for you!"

Seraphine didn't look back. As she threw the stable doors open, the freezing wind of the North hit her face. It felt like a cleansing fire.

She walked toward the treeline, her heart heavy but her mind finally, terrifyingly clear. Behind her, in the shadows of the stable, Cora stood watching, her fingers clutching her throat, already rehearsing the lie she would tell the Alpha.

Seraphine didn't know that three miles out, a pair of eyes as black as the void were tracking her movement. Malachi didn't care about the willow tree or the stolen necklace. He only cared about the woman walking toward her own destruction, unaware that her true rise was waiting in the dark.