The Moon chose my Enemy

No wolf looked forward to the Centennial Moon Ceremony. They feared it. Every hundred years, beneath the Moon Goddess's gaze, fate chose seven mates—one for each ruling Alpha bloodline. Kings had risen because of it. Kingdoms have survived because of it. Wars had begun because of it. The Goddess never explained Her choices. She simply made them. And no one had ever dared refuse. Temple bells rang across the mountains. Once. Twice. Three times. The sound rippled through the valley, drawing thousands toward the towering white temple perched on the cliffs. By sunset, the fate of the seven kingdoms would be decided. By tomorrow, the world would look different. "If you keep frowning like that, people will think you're marching to your execution." Serena smiled without looking up. "They're not entirely wrong." Her maid, Lyra, groaned dramatically. "Oh, please. It's a ceremony, not a funeral." "It depends on who the Moon Goddess chooses." Lyra stopped walking. "You always know exactly how to ruin a perfectly lovely morning." Serena laughed softly. "I've been told it's a gift." "You've been told it's a curse." "That too." They stepped into the temple marketplace, where the usual order had dissolved into cheerful chaos. Merchants shouted over one another. Pilgrims hurried past carrying silver offerings. Children darted between market stalls despite their parents' desperate attempts to catch them. Everyone was talking about one thing. The Ceremony. Some prayed to be chosen. Most prayed they wouldn't. Serena adjusted the hood of her pale green cloak. She preferred days when no one recognized her. Today, that felt impossible. "I'll only be a few minutes," she told Lyra. "I know what that means." "It means a few minutes." "It means you'll disappear to rescue a lost kitten, adopt an elderly baker, or spend an hour buying flowers." Serena tilted her head innocently. "I don't see the problem." Lyra sighed. "I'll meet you at the sanctuary." Before Serena could reply, Lyra disappeared into the crowd. Serena smiled to herself. Then she turned toward the oldest flower stall in the marketplace. "You're late." The elderly flower seller didn't bother looking up as she arranged fresh moon lilies into woven baskets. "I came yesterday." "You were late yesterday too." Serena laughed. "Good morning to you as well." Only then did the old woman raise her head. Deep lines framed her warm smile. "There she is." "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten me." "I'd never survive the guilt." "You certainly wouldn't survive my complaints." The old woman reached beneath the stall and produced a small clay pot. Nestled inside bloomed six rare blue moon lilies. Their petals shimmered like twilight. Serena's eyes lit up. "You found them." "I told you I would." "They're beautiful." "They're expensive." Serena reached for her coin pouch. "I'll take all six." Before the woman could answer— "Move!" A courier burst through the crowded square, clutching a bundle of sealed scrolls beneath one arm. He wasn't watching where he was going. His shoulder slammed into the flower cart. Time seemed to slow. The wooden cart tipped. Clay pots crashed onto the marble. Hundreds of white lilies spilled across the square.The old woman reached for the cart.Too late. It hit the ground with a sickening c***k. The courier stared in horror. "I..." Then he ran. "I'm sorry!" The apology vanished into the crowd. Silence settled around the ruined stall. The old woman's shoulders slumped. "My flowers..." She slowly knelt, trying to gather the crushed blossoms with shaking hands. People watched. A nobleman frowned. "What a nuisance." Another carefully stepped over the flowers without breaking stride. "The ceremony starts soon." Temple servants hurried past carrying silver lanterns. None stopped. The old woman reached for a blossom that rolled just beyond her fingertips. A hand picked it up first. Serena placed it gently into the basket. "It'll take forever if you do this alone." "My lady..." The old woman's voice trembled. "Your clothes." "They'll wash." "But these flowers—" "They mattered to you." Serena knelt beside her. "So they matter to me." She gathered another handful of lilies before the wind carried them farther down the steps. For a moment, no one moved. Then a little boy wandered over. He picked up a flower. "Does this one still count?" Serena smiled. "It counts the most." He carefully placed it inside the basket. His mother hesitated before joining him. Then a young temple apprentice knelt. A pair of pilgrims followed. Within minutes, strangers who had ignored the mess were gathering flowers together. Not because anyone ordered them to. Because one person had quietly shown them how. The old flower seller blinked away tears. "I don't know how to thank you." Serena tucked one of the rescued blue lilies safely back into its pot. "You already have." "When?" "You remembered my name." The old woman laughed. "You always say the sweetest things." "No." Serena smiled. "I just mean them." The sound of hooves echoed through the square. Conversation faded almost instantly. Black banners embroidered with a silver wolf entered through the eastern gate. Shadowfang. People instinctively stepped aside. Rowan Draven rode at their head. His black horse moved through the crowd without hurry. His reputation reached people long before he did.The Alpha who had never lost a battle. The king who spoke only when necessary. The man who had buried his entire family before his twentieth birthday. Beside him rode Rhys Ashbourne, his oldest friend. "You've been glaring at mountains for the last hour," Rhys said. "The mountains started it." Rhys chuckled. "There he is." "There who is?" "The man who occasionally remembers sarcasm." Rowan didn't answer. His attention had shifted. Not intentionally. A movement near the flower stalls had caught his eye. A young woman knelt on the marble, brushing dirt from white lilies before placing them carefully into a basket. She laughed quietly at something the elderly flower seller said. It wasn't a performance. No one important was watching. She simply looked... Peaceful. A single thought crossed Rowan's mind before he could stop it. Beautiful. His expression didn't change. Beauty meant nothing. It had never stopped a blade. Never ended a war. Never brought anyone back. His horse continued forward.The woman disappeared into the crowd.By the time Rowan reached the sanctuary steps, he had already pushed the thought aside. Or so he believed. Rhys glanced toward the marketplace. "What held you up?" "Nothing." He didn't offer another explanation. Rhys knew better than to ask. The Grand Sanctuary was silent. Seven stone thrones formed a circle around the Moon Altar. Each was occupied by an Alpha ruler. Nobles filled the galleries. Priests lined the walls. No one spoke. At the center stood High Priestess Selene. She lifted a staff carved from ancient moonwood. Its crystal head glowed with pale silver light. "When the first wolves walked this world," she began, "they begged the Moon Goddess for strength." "The Goddess gave them something greater." "Balance." Her voice echoed through the sanctuary. "Power without balance becomes tyranny." "Love without balance becomes obsession." "Today, as She has done for centuries beyond counting, the Moon Goddess will choose those who must carry that balance into the next age." Every wolf lowered their head. Even Rowan. Even Serena. The crystal atop the staff blazed. Moonlight poured across the altar like liquid silver. "The first bond..." Selene's voice rang through the temple. "...shall now be revealed." She looked toward Rowan. "Alpha Rowan Draven." He stepped forward. Then she turned toward the opposite side of the sanctuary. "Lady..." A pause. Just long enough for every heart to stop. "...Serena Ravenshade." The sanctuary fell deathly silent. Rowan looked up. The woman from the flower stall stood across the altar. For one impossible second, all he could see was her kneeling among scattered lilies. Then one word erased everything else. Ravenshade. The surname struck him harder than any blade ever had. His face remained perfectly still. But beneath the marble floor... The first c***k appeared.