THE LUNA HE THREW AWAY

The Border Town

We reached the edge of Ashveil territory at sunrise, our shoes soaked and mud clinging to our knees. Everyone was on edge. The Old Growth pushed us out onto a stretch of no-man’s-land that matched every border town I’d ever heard about: shanties drooping from too many winters, battered trucks scattered around, and a bar called “The Den” with its sign creaking in the wind. The sky looked flat, and the air felt thin, like the world was waiting for something.

None of us wanted attention, but it was impossible to hide how we looked. Fen’s tattoos were smeared with dirt, Cass’s coat was torn, and Kael’s shirt still had dried blood on it. I glanced at them, noticing how we all moved forward, hunched and changed by the night in the woods. Fen’s stubborn silence, Cass’s quick strength, and Kael’s constant watchfulness were all familiar, but now they felt both precious and fragile. I could feel the letter against my ribs, solid and close.

“We need supplies and word,” Cass said. “I’ll handle the market. Lira you look the least like you could rip a man’s spine out. You get the news.”

Fen only grunted. Kael, for once, didn’t argue. I didn’t ask what he planned to do. I was relieved not to know.

I walked into the bar, my heart pounding. The air was heavy with sweat and old beer, and the people inside were a mix of wolves too tired to fight and humans too tired to care. No one looked up except the bartender, an older woman with short hair and a face that showed she’d seen too many Sovereign stories end badly.

“You lost or thirsty?” she asked.

“Both,” I said. My voice sounded steadier than I felt. “News travels faster than runners out here.”

She blinked, then poured a glass of water, sliding it toward me. “Depends what kind of news you want. Bounty news is free, but it’ll cost you to get the truth.”

I forced a smile. “How much for the truth?”

She snorted. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t be serving drinks. Thornridge put out a call last night. Rogue Sovereign, dangerous, and they’re offering immunity to anyone who brings her in. They say she’s the kind of trouble that makes packs forget who’s in charge.” Her eyes moved over me, more curious now. "You never know what Sovereigns can do. People say they have the old blood, the kind that can shake things up if they want it badly enough. Not everyone believes it, but it’s enough to make the Council nervous."

Something in my face must have shifted, because she leaned in. “You’re not the first to stand in that spot, thinking the world’s ending just because one man said so. You won’t be the last.”

She slipped me a folded piece of paper, not looking at me. “For the girl with the stubborn eyes.”

I waited until I was outside to open it. Inside was a single line, written in a tight, careful hand: “The Ashveil Alpha already knows you’re coming. He’s deciding whether to turn you in.”

Outside, Cass was waiting, a sack slung over her shoulder. “Anything?”

I handed her the note. She read it, then smiled, sharp and tired. “Rowan always was a bastard for drama. He’ll make us sweat, but he won’t sell you to Thornridge. He hates the Council too much.”

Fen and Kael met us at the edge of town. Kael was tense, scanning the rooftops for snipers that weren’t there, while Fen just looked bored. Cass handed out food: bread, cheese, and a flask of water.

“Rowan will meet us at the border,” she said. “He wants a show, and he’ll get one.”

We left town together, the four of us moving with that uneasy unity that comes from knowing we’d survive only if we stuck together. The world seemed smaller, the sky heavy above us.

About a mile out, we saw a figure waiting by the border marker, a man in a long gray coat, arms folded, hair like black wire. Rowan Ashveil. His eyes gave nothing away, but for a moment, I saw a flicker of something, maybe worry or anger, before he hid it behind a hard stare. I remembered the stories Cass told in the dark, about Rowan’s father dying in Council games and Rowan becoming Alpha younger than most ever get the chance. His mouth was set in a line that meant business, not welcome. I wondered if he was looking past us, searching for ghosts from his own past in the woods.

“Kael,” he said, voice cool as river stones. “Didn’t expect to see you so soon after Thornridge wolfed your claim.”

Kael didn’t bristle, which told me how tired he was. “I come bearing trouble, not apologies.”

Rowan’s gaze flicked to me, lingered on the dirt, the torn dress, the silver in my eyes. “So you’re the Sovereign.” He didn’t say it like a compliment.

I stood my ground. “You know why we’re here.”

He nodded, slow. “I know. But knowing and caring aren’t the same. You want Ashveil to stand witness. You want to use my name to give your claim weight. What do I get in return, girl?”

Cass stepped forward, voice low. “Thornridge is collapsing. If Lira fails, the Council will turn their eyes here next. You know it.”

Rowan smiled, cold. “You’re not wrong. But if I help you and you fail, I’m next either way. So convince me.”

I didn’t think. I just spoke. “Thornridge took my father. The Council erased his name and called it an accident. My mother hid me for twenty years so I wouldn’t end up in a Silver Cell. When Kael stood in that Hall and said I was nothing, I believed him for half a second. That was all it took for the world to decide I was disposable. But I’m not a mistake. I’m the correction. And if you stand with us, you don’t just get a new balance. You get a world where the Council doesn’t decide who lives and who’s erased.”

Rowan watched me for a long, silent moment. Then he nodded slowly, as if he’d expected this all along. “You get one shot, Sovereign. If you fall, Ashveil falls with you. But if you win, the border dispute is settled my way, with your seal. That’s not up for debate.”

“Deal,” I said, my voice steady.

He turned, walking back toward Ashveil’s side without another word. I exhaled for what felt like the first time in days.

Kael put a hand on my shoulder. “You did it.”

“No,” I said. “We did it. But it’s not over.”

Cass smiled, tired but real. Fen just grunted.

As the sun began to set, turning the Ashveil trees a bruised gold, I realized something. I wasn’t running anymore. I was standing my ground.

We had our first witness. Now the real work and the real danger could begin.

And somewhere behind us, in the dark woods, I hoped Jax was still holding on. My friend had always been the reckless one, the first to laugh and the last to leave anyone behind. I hoped he knew I was coming, and that I wasn’t coming alone.