The Messenger

Left Behind

The first wave of pain came without mercy.

It started in Iva’s spine, a sharp, searing heat that crawled upward and downward at the same time, splitting her breath in half and forcing a gasp from her throat as her knees buckled beneath her. The ground seemed to tilt, the world stretching and bending as if reality itself was giving her one last chance to step back.

She didn’t.

She couldn’t.

Her bones screamed as pressure built inside them, a terrible, relentless force pushing outward, rearranging her from the inside out. It felt as though her body was being rewritten cell by cell, her humanity peeled away layer by layer, and tears streamed down her face—not from fear alone, but from the sheer intensity of it.

This hurts… so much…

Her hands hit the earth as her fingers spasmed, nails elongating, thickening, tearing through skin in flashes of white-hot agony. She cried out, the sound raw and broken, echoing across the shifting grounds as every eye turned toward her.

Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.

Her vision sharpened painfully, colors bleeding brighter, outlines becoming cruelly precise. She could hear everything—the whisper of grass bending under the wind, the shallow breaths of the gathered wolves, the distant hoot of an owl—and it overwhelmed her senses so completely that she nearly lost herself to the flood.

Her back arched violently as her spine cracked, vertebrae snapping and reshaping, forcing a scream from her throat that turned halfway into something feral, something not quite human anymore. Fur burst through her skin in waves, dark and soft, spreading across her arms, her back, her legs, until her human form felt like a memory slipping through her grasp.

Hold on, she told herself desperately. Don’t lose yourself. Don’t disappear.

The pain peaked—an unbearable crescendo—and then suddenly, terrifyingly, it shifted.

The agony dulled, replaced by a roaring warmth, a powerful strength flooding her limbs, grounding her to the earth beneath her. Her breathing slowed, her heartbeat steadying, her awareness expanding beyond what she had ever known.

And then—

She stood.

On four legs.

The ground felt solid and real beneath her paws, every blade of grass distinct, every vibration alive. Her tail swayed instinctively behind her, her body light yet strong, compact yet balanced, and for the first time in her life, she felt whole.

I… I did it, she thought, wonder blooming in her chest. This is my wolf.

A soft presence brushed against her mind, gentle yet steady, like a calm voice rising from deep water.

Hello, Iva.

Her breath hitched. You… you’re real.

A warm pulse of emotion flowed through her. I am Avalon. And I have been waiting for you.

Tears burned behind her eyes, even as her wolf’s vision took over, and she lifted her head slowly, curiosity glowing through her as she looked around at the gathered pack.

This was the moment every young wolf dreamed of.

Pride.

Acceptance.

Belonging.

The power of the pack.

But what met her gaze shattered those dreams in an instant.

They were … laughing?

Not openly—not loudly—but the smirks, the raised brows, the poorly hidden amusement cut deeper than claws ever could. Some whispered behind hands. Others shook their heads with thinly veiled disappointment.

Why…? Iva asked silently, confusion twisting painfully inside her chest. Why are they looking at me like this?

Her gaze darted from face to face, desperately searching for something—anything—that looked like approval.

And then she saw her father.

Gamma Rhys stood rigid, his face flushed a deep, angry red—not with pride, not with awe, but with something that looked like… embarrassment? His jaw was clenched so tightly it looked as though it might crack, his eyes avoiding her entirely as if she were something shameful.

Something’s wrong.

The pain of that look eclipsed even the agony of her transformation.

“Father…?” She tried to mind-link him for the first time, but his walls were up, blocking her.

Her chest constricted violently, panic blooming where joy had been moments before.

Why are they looking like this at me? she whispered inwardly, her voice trembling as tears threatened once more.

Avalon’s presence wrapped around her like a protective shield, steady and calm despite the hurt radiating from Iva’s soul.

Perhaps, Avalon said gently, because of us… or more exactly, because of me.

Us? Iva asked confused.

Our size, Avalon continued softly. We are not large. Not imposing. Not what they … expected.

Iva looked down at herself—at her lean paws, her smaller build compared to the massive wolves shifting nearby. She wasn’t feeling weak, but she wasn’t towering or even of a normal standard size. She wasn’t monstrous. She wasn’t terrifying.

She was… different.

Is that so bad? Iva asked, her heart breaking open, but deep inside already knowing the answer. She would be judged based on her physical appearance and be categorised like the runt of the pack. Her heart dropped.

Before Iva could wrap her head around her new reality—before she could lift her head and find the courage to stand proudly despite the judgment—

A sharp, commanding voice cut through the air like a blade.

“Shift back.”The Alpha spoke.

Every sound died instantly.

“Now,” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for defiance.

Iva froze, shock rippling through her. Already? But I—I just— we supposed to run with the pack… the first hunt.

Do as he says, Avalon urged calmly. We will survive this.

The warmth retreated, her body folding inward once more as the transformation reversed, bones shrinking, fur retreating, pain flaring again though less violently than before. When it ended, Iva collapsed to her knees, gasping, shaking, human once more and painfully exposed.

Silence pressed down on her from all sides.

She hugged herself, trembling—not from the cold, but from the realization that the moment she had waited for her entire life had ended not with pride…

…but with shame.

--

The silence after the Alpha’s command was heavier than the night itself.

For a few endless seconds, no one moved, as if the entire pack was holding its breath, unsure whether to react with laughter, pity, or something worse. Iva stood there trembling, arms wrapped around herself, her bare feet pressing into the cold earth of the shifting grounds, her chest rising and falling too fast as she tried to keep herself together. Her mother covered her with a robe.

Then the murmurs began.

Not loud.

Not brave.

Just enough to wound.

Whispers slid through the air like knives, glances flickered toward her and away again, and the curiosity she had seen moments before twisted into something colder, something sharp and dismissive.

The Alpha stepped forward, his presence commanding without effort.

“That will be all for tonight,” he said firmly. “Return to your homes.”

The pack members did not hesitate.

One by one, wolves turned away, many sifting back, their interest already fading, their steps quick and eager to escape the awkwardness of what they had just witnessed. Parents ushered their newly shifted children forward, voices low, already reframing the night into something forgettable.

Something small.

Soon, only a handful of figures remained under the moonlight.

The Alpha and his family.

The Beta family and their daughter.

And the Gammas.

Iva’s father did not look at her.

He stood rigid, his fists clenched at his sides, jaw locked so tightly that the muscles jumped beneath his skin. His shame radiated from him in suffocating waves, hot and furious, and when he finally spoke, his voice cut deeper than any insult Nick had ever thrown at her.

“How,” Gamma Rhys said, his tone low and sharp, “didn’t you even get a proper wolf?”

Iva flinched as if struck.

Her breath hitched painfully, her vision blurring as tears threatened once again, and she opened her mouth—desperate to explain, to say something, anything—but no sound came out…

This is what the Goddess gifted me! she wanted to scream.

The Alpha sighed.

A slow, heavy sound filled with false patience.

“Rhys,” he said, placing a hand on the Gamma’s shoulder in what looked like a consoling gesture. “I am sorry, my friend, I really hopped for a different outcome for you. But you shouldn’t be surprised.”

Iva’s heart dropped.

“The Moon does not always grant strength where we expect it,” the Alpha continued calmly. “Bloodlines weaken. It happens. It is unfortunate, but not unheard of.”

Unfortunate.

Iva’s chest burned.

“She is… small,” the Alpha added after a brief pause, his gaze flicking toward Iva with cool assessment. “Perhaps she will find her place somewhere.”

Somewhere.

As if she were already being dismissed.

Her father nodded stiffly, swallowing his anger, his humiliation, his wounded pride. “How am I supposed to face the other Gammas?” he snapped bitterly. “Knowing my daughter is the runt of the pack?”

The word landed like a blow.

Runt.

Iva felt it echo through her bones, tearing something fragile inside her apart. Her hands trembled uncontrollably, her knees threatening to give way, but she forced herself to stay upright, because falling now would only confirm everything they already believed.

Her mother stepped forward then, eyes shining with unshed tears, voice trembling but firm. “She is not a runt,” Rana said. “She is healthy. She shifted. That alone—”

“That is enough,” Rhys cut her off sharply, not even turning to face her. “Do not embarrass me further.”

Rana froze.

The hurt on her face was unbearable, a mix of pain, helplessness, and restrained fury, but she said nothing more, stepping back slowly as if she, too, had just been dismissed from her own child’s life.

The Alpha nodded once, the matter clearly settled in his eyes. “You should take her home,” he said. “Let her rest and we will talk tomorrow. This night has been… disappointing enough.”

Disappointing.

That word followed Iva like a shadow as they began the walk back.

The group moved ahead of her without a second thought. Her father walked stiffly beside the Alpha, her mother a few steps behind him, trying—and failing—to slow her pace enough to stay close to Iva.

But Iva couldn’t keep up.

Each step felt heavier than the last, her legs weak, her chest aching as she fought the sobs clawing their way up her throat. The night air felt too cold, the moon too bright, the path too long.

She fell behind.

No one noticed.

Or worse—no one cared.

Her vision blurred, tears finally spilling as she hugged herself, trying desperately not to break down completely in the open. Just make it home, she told herself. Just make it home.

A pair of footsteps slowed beside her.

She didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

“Well,” Nick’s voice drawled lazily, laced with amusement. “That was… underwhelming.”

She lifted her gaze slowly, her heart pounding, and met his eyes—cold, mocking, cruel.

“Guess even the Moon Goddess has standards,” he continued with a smirk, his eyes flicking deliberately over her body. “And you didn’t quite meet them.”

Her breath caught painfully.

Ella stepped closer to him, looping her arm through his possessively, her lips curving in a satisfied smile as she looked Iva up and down. “It’s kind of sad,” she said lightly. “I almost feel sorry for you.”

Nick chuckled. “Almost.”

He leaned closer just enough for his words to sting. “Do everyone a favor and stay out of sight, Ironboard. You were never meant to stand with us anyway. So clingy, so needy…”

Then he turned away.

Ella followed, laughter soft and triumphant as they caught up with the others, their silhouettes blending seamlessly into the future everyone expected them to have.

Iva stood alone.

The path ahead was empty.

The weight of the night finally crushed her, and she sank to her knees, her shoulders shaking as silent sobs tore through her chest, her hands pressed to her mouth to keep the sound from escaping.

She had waited her entire life for this moment.

And it had broken her completely.

Inside her, unseen and unheard, Avalon stirred quietly in her soul.

This is not the end, the wolf whispered.

But right now, all Iva could feel was the unbearable ache of being left behind.