The Messenger

Dinner Invitation

When Iva returned home from school, tired from training, classes, and the weight of thoughts she didn’t dare voice, the front door opened before she even reached for the handle, and her mother, Rana, appeared with that familiar soft smile that always made the world feel slightly less cruel.

“Iva, sweetheart, you’re home,” Rana said warmly, pulling her into a gentle hug that smelled faintly of jasmine and the herbal oils she used at the pack infirmary. “You look exhausted. Long day?”

“You could say that,” Iva murmured into her shoulder, letting herself soak in the comfort for a moment before they stepped inside.

Rana had always been her safe place, a warmth that tried—silently, relentlessly—to compensate for her father’s coldness.

It wasn’t that her mother didn’t love her mate; she did, fiercely and loyally, but she loved Iva just as strongly, and sometimes that love seemed to stretch her too thin, caught between the duty of a mate and the heart of a mother.

They sat in the kitchen, Rana slicing vegetables for dinner while Iva perched on a stool, dropping her backpack to the floor with a thud.

“You’re thinking again,” Rana said softly without turning around, her hands moving gracefully over the cutting board. “I can always tell.”

“Just school things,” Iva said, though her voice betrayed more.

Rana paused, glanced over her shoulder, and the gentle lines around her eyes tightened with concern. “Did something happen?”

Iva hesitated, her fingers tracing the edge of the table before she finally spoke.

“Lori’s already applying to medical schools… Everyone’s planning their futures and I… don’t even know if I’ll be allowed to go anywhere.”

Rana exhaled slowly, as if the weight of that truth pressed on her heart too. “Iva…”

“I talked to you about it,” Iva said quietly, “and you said you supported me, but that Dad’s opinion would be the deciding factor. And when I tried speaking to him…”

She let out a shaky laugh that held no humor. “He barely listened. He just scoffed, said college was a waste of money, and walked away.”

Rana’s jaw clenched, a rare flash of resentment crossing her normally serene face. “Your father can be… stubborn,” she said carefully, though her eyes were filled with apology. “But I promise you, I will try again. You deserve options, Iva. You deserve a future you choose for yourself.”

“I don’t know if the Moon Goddess agrees, otherwise I would have been a boy who could become the next Gamma… but instead… it is just…me,” Iva whispered.

Rana set down the knife and turned fully, leaning against the counter with a sigh. “Oh, sweetheart… that’s not what this is.”

But it was hard not to think that way.

Hard not to feel punished.

Because Rana and Rhys, like many chosen couples, had only one child.

That was the silent curse the Moon Goddess had cast upon them decades ago—chosen mates would bear only a single offspring, no matter how deeply they loved each other or how desperately they tried for more.

It was the Goddess’s way of punishing their kind for abandoning their roots, for drifting too close to the human world, for ignoring sacred traditions. Only fated mates, blessed pairs united by destiny itself, could still have large, thriving families.

The children of such unions were extraordinary—superior in strength, enhanced in abilities, their wolves fiercer, faster, sharper. They were called the Elites, the highest echelon of werewolf kind, and every pack wanted more of them.

But finding one’s fated mate had become nearly impossible… or a matter of pure luck.

The Goddess had taken away the sacred ability to recognize a fated mate on sight.

Now it was blind luck… or divine intervention.

“Sometimes,” Iva murmured, “I wish fated mates weren’t so rare. Maybe Dad would have loved me differently if I’d been born a boy or had a brother.”

Rana crossed the room and cupped her daughter’s cheeks gently. “Don’t you ever think that. You are enough, Iva. More than enough.”

Iva offered a small, fragile smile, though her chest still ached.

Because the truth was harsher.

Fated mates weren’t only rare—they were nearly myth. And the last known way to reliably find them had just vanished from the world.

The Messenger.

A single werewolf blessed by the Moon Goddess every few decades with the uncanny ability to sense who belonged with whom. They could feel the thread of destiny between wolves, a gift so precious that every pack hunted for them the moment rumors of one surfaced.

A Messenger meant more fated couples.

More Elites.

More offspring.

More power.

The last Messenger had died a year ago, and since the Moon Goddess allowed only one at a time to exist, everyone was waiting—breathlessly—for the next one to appear.

And when they did, the entire world would fight tooth and claw to claim them.

Iva looked down at her hands. “Mom… do you think the next Messenger is already out there?”

Rana brushed a stray strand of hair behind Iva’s ear. “Perhaps. The Goddess always chooses when the world needs one most. But they will not remain hidden forever.”

--

Time seemed to slip through Iva’s fingers like smoke, a blur of schoolwork and helping her mother with minor errands, and before she even realized it, the words fell from Rana’s lips like a judgment she had been dreading.

“Iva… you need to prepare yourself,” her mother said softly. “Tonight, we’re invited to dinner with the Alpha’s family.”

Iva froze, her fork hovering above the plate, her heart suddenly thumping so hard it seemed to echo through her entire chest.

Dinner at the Alpha’s house.

Nick. Again.

Her stomach churned at the thought, a mixture of dread, anticipation, and that old, familiar ache that had never quite left her since last year.

Before, their relationship had been cold but cordial—distance maintained by respect, unspoken rules, and the boundaries of rank—in the end she was the Gamma’s daughter, but since she had confessed her feelings, everything had changed.

Nick ignored or mocked at school; he smirked, an infuriating expression of superiority that made her blood simmer. Every word she had spoken, every brave syllable of confession, had fed his ego like fuel to fire.

If only I had kept my mouth shut, she thought bitterly, recalling Lori’s warnings. “Nick may have charm, but he’s vain, proud, and arrogant,” her best friend had said. “Just don’t give him reason to laugh at you, Iva.”

But she had not listened, and now she would have to stand the consequences.

By eight o’clock, they arrived at the Alpha’s sprawling house, a mansion built more like a fortress, with grand stone pillars and the kind of carefully manicured gardens that spoke of centuries of wealth and power.

Iva’s stomach twisted as she stepped inside, aware of the silent eyes that seemed to follow her every move, the low murmur of conversation that paused and resumed at her arrival, and the subtle tension that always accompanied any member of the Gamma’s family when visiting the Alpha.

She sat down quietly, careful to remain composed, but her heart stung like ice when she saw Nick across the table, laughing lightly at something whispered by Ella, the Beta’s daughter.

He leaned just enough to brush her hand casually, the easy charm in his movements setting a knife of envy deep in Iva’s chest. They were flirting, just lightly, but enough to make every nerve in her body tense.

Everyone around them seemed to notice. The gossip had been rampant for months: Nick was supposed to choose his fated mate soon, and the Alpha and Beta families’ children were the most obvious candidates.

Even the Beta had hinted publicly that their offspring were close, that it would be convenient for the pack if the next heir’s mate came from their inner circle.

But tonight the Alpha, towering and imposing in his usual air of authority, cleared his throat, commanding the attention of everyone in the room.

“You all know the situation,” he said, his voice deep and steady. “To maintain our influence and ensure the survival of our kind, it will not be enough to rely on tradition alone. Finding Nick’s fated mate or the next Messenger is crucial.”

The room fell silent. Even the omegas stopped moving for a heartbeat.

“The last reports are troubling,” the Alpha continued, his piercing gaze sweeping across every face at the table. “Our pack population is declining. Each chosen couple produces only a single pup. That is not enough to sustain power in a world where strength, lineage, and fated bonds decide our standing.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. Iva’s fingers tightened around her napkin, her heart hammering, sensing that something monumental was being said.

“For the moment,” he said slowly, his eyes lingering on each pack representative, “we remain influential. But the appearance of the next Messenger—and the choice of pack they make—will be the factor that reshapes the entire hierarchy of werewolves. We need to secure its presence in our pack, this is imperative.”

A low murmur ran through the room. Heads turned to one another, whispers exchanged across plates and wine glasses. The implication was clear: the Messenger would decide the fates of every pack. The weight of the unseen power pressed down on Iva, making her pulse quicken.

Her eyes, almost without her will, drifted to Nick again, who laughed lightly at Ella’s joke, oblivious to the storm of destiny gathering around them.

And Iva had no idea that the world was about to turn, and that the Messenger—the one wolf capable of seeing fated bonds—might be closer than anyone dared imagine.