MIRIAM
Twenty years ago…
The morning bells of the Moon Temple had just faded, and the prayer hall still hummed with the last echoes of the dawn chant. I knelt beside High Priestess Liora, with my palms pressed together and lips moving through the sacred words, but my heart wasn’t in them. It hadn’t been for weeks.
I was nineteen, chosen, blessed with the Silver Mark on the shoulder blade that proved the Goddess herself had touched me in the cradle. I had risen faster than any Sigma before me: Moon Devotee, personal apprentice to the High Priestess, next in line to lead the Temple when Mother Liora passed into the stars.
We Sigma wolves are born for one purpose: to serve the Moon Goddess without question, without distraction, without mates. Purity was everything, and desire was death.
