THE LUNA HE THREW AWAY

After

The Hollow was quiet, but outside, the world was anything but calm.

The Council convened in emergency session before dawn. Silas, representing Thornridge, tabled a motion to recognise the Sovereign’s claim. Rowan Ashveil seconded it. The vote was quick and brutal: three abstentions, two furious dissents. Dara Ironveil signed her support, but her face was tight, her eyes wary. The packs had spent generations pretending Sovereigns were a myth. Now, with the moon’s answer, they couldn’t pretend anymore.

Aldric was removed from the Council on medical grounds. Not stripped of his title, just quietly pushed aside, the way powerful men are when their usefulness has run out. The Silver Cells were ordered closed. Cass oversaw it personally, her hands steady as she broke locks and burned records. Jax was officially reinstated as a Thornridge pack member, his rank raised, so that he never had to work in the kitchens again unless he wanted to. He said he might want to. He liked cooking.

The Council chamber, once a sign of total control, now felt close to breaking. Amara Stormvale spoke out against the new order. Her words were sharp as she warned that too much power had changed hands overnight. Elias of Northpine, usually calm, asked for patience. His calmness clashed with the anger flaring up among Council members in whispered arguments. Some packs sent quick messages to faraway places, quietly getting ready in case Thornridge’s chaos spread. Others, like Ironveil, pushed for more oversight, suggesting endless committees to watch every decision the Sovereign made. Even those who supported the changes looked uneasy, unsure about how fast history had shifted. The room was full of uneasy silences.

News of the Council’s decision spread quickly through the packs. Some people celebrated openly, showing relief and cautious hope as the old order ended. Others whispered in corners, feeling uncertain or resentful, unsure what the change would bring. Stories about the Sovereign’s judgment spread, and families who lost loved ones to the Silver Cells wept and gathered together. In markets and at pack meetings, the mood shifted between fear and hope. No one knew what would happen next, but for the first time in a generation, people felt that something new could happen.

I watched it all: numb, exhausted, unsure. Had the world changed, or just rearranged itself? The Hollow was still. The pool black and silent. The moon gone. The sun rose with a steady, unremarkable light.

Kael found me on the ridge, looking out over the woods. He didn’t say anything at first. Just stood beside me, his presence quiet, the bond between us severed but still ringing in the places where old habits lived.

“You going to stay?” he asked.

I shrugged. “For now.”

He nodded. “Thornridge is broken. I’m going to rebuild it. Not the way my father did. Something different. Something that deserves the name.”

I looked at him, at the man who had rejected me, who had taken a bolt for me, who had knelt in the Hollow when it mattered. “You’ll make it better,” I said.

He laughed, short and sad. “I hope so.”

He didn’t ask me to come with him. He didn’t ask for anything. He just told me I would always be welcome, in whatever form I chose. Then he left, the woods swallowing him, his shadow lingering longer than his footsteps.

Cass brought me to the ruins of the Silver Cells. She handed me a hammer, her hands steady. “You want to break the last lock?”

I did. The sound was ugly, final, satisfying. The cells were empty now, the ghosts gone, the cages broken. The packs would need years to understand what had happened, but the world was different.

Jax found me that night, his hands covered with flour, his eyes tired but alive. “You ever think about leaving?” he asked.

“All the time.”

He grinned. “Me too. But sometimes staying is the correction.”

I laughed, real and sharp. For the first time in weeks, I felt like myself.

Serena was alone, sitting in a room in the Thornridge estate, stripped of her political position, her hair loose, her eyes blank. I went to see her, not to confront her, but to understand. We talked for twenty minutes, uncomfortable and raw. She told me about the pressure, the expectations, and how worthiness had become a cage. I listened. I didn’t forgive her. I didn’t hate her. I just understood.

When I left, she was still sitting there, staring at her hands. Some wounds don’t heal. Some choices can’t be undone. That is the point.

Cass joined me at the edge of the Hollow, her eyes sharp, her posture relaxed for the first time. “You did it,” she said.

“We did it.”

Fen was gone, vanished into the woods, his absence a promise. He left a note: “I’m looking for the records. When you’re ready, come find me.”

The Hollow was quiet, the world settling. I stood at the edge, my hands steady, the weight of everything pressing down but not crushing me.