Chapter 3: Before Goodbye
1179 Words
The training grounds were empty by the time Isabel returned.
The morning’s laughter had long faded, leaving only the quiet rustling of leaves and the distant sounds of warriors finishing their drills.
She lowered herself onto the packed earth beneath the old oak tree overlooking the courtyard.
It had always been her place.
Whenever she was angry, confused, or simply tired of the world, she came here.
Footsteps approached.
She didn’t need to look up.
“You’re late,” she muttered.
Alfred sat beside her with a quiet sigh.
“For someone who’s supposed to be leaving soon, you’re surprisingly difficult to find.”
She gave a weak smile.
Neither of them spoke. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable.
It was familiar, finally, Isabel broke it.
“You knew.”
Alfred didn’t pretend to misunderstand.
“…Yes.” he replied looking down at her feet he couldn't bear to face her.
She looked down at the wooden practice sword resting across her lap.
“That’s why you pushed me so hard today.”
He nodded once. “You need to be stronger.”
She frowned. “I’ve always needed to be stronger.”
He hesitated before answering.
“You’ll need to protect yourself when you go.”
The words settled heavily between them.
“I couldn’t stop them from sending you away,” he said quietly.
“The only thing I could do was make sure you had a chance to survive.” he said bitterly
Isabel laughed softly, though there was no joy in it.
“I thought if I trained hard enough… if I became useful enough…”
“…maybe people would stop looking at me like I was broken.” She said in between her bittersweet laughter.
Alfred turned to face her.
“I’ve never looked at you that way.”
Their eyes met. After a while, Isabel stood and picked up a dagger lying nearby.
She forced a smile. “Then don’t go easy on me.”
Alfred raised an eyebrow.
“You’ve had enough for one day.”
“I need to polish my skills.” She twirled the blade once.
“Daggers are easier to carry than claws.” She said
For the briefest moment, his smile faltered.
He knew exactly why she had chosen those words.
She had no wolf to rely on. Steel and skill were all she had. Without another word, Alfred picked up his own sword.
“Again?”
She smiled. “Again.”
The sound of clashing steel echoed across the empty training grounds until the sun slipped behind the mountains.
By evening, Isabel returned to her room. A single lantern glowed beside the window. Her mother was waiting.
“I was beginning to think you’d spend the night outside.”
Isabel smiled faintly. “I considered it.”
Her mother patted the space beside her.
“Come.”
For a while, neither of them spoke. Then Isabel rested her head against her mother’s shoulder.
“Did you know?”
A pause.
“…Yes.” Her mother replied bitterly
“And you didn’t tell me.”
Tears gathered in her mother’s eyes.
“I wanted one more day where you could simply be my daughter.”
“Not the future Luna...Not a political alliance.”
“Just my little girl.” Her mother said as tears flow down her cheeks
Isabel swallowed hard.
“You could have stopped him.”
A tear escaped her mother’s eye. "No, I couldn’t.”
“You know your father.” she replied
“When he believes something is for the good of the pack… his decision is final.”
Silence filled the room once more.
Her mother reached into a small wooden chest beside the bed and withdrew a delicate silver pendant shaped like a crescent moon.
“This belonged to my mother.”
She fastened it gently around Isabel’s neck.
“I’ve kept it all these years, now it belongs to you.”
Isabel touched the pendant carefully. "It’s beautiful.”
Her mother smiled through her tears.
“You’ve spent your whole life believing the Moon Goddess turned away from you.”
She cupped Isabel’s face.
“I never believed that. Whether your wolf answered or not…”
“…you have always been enough.”
For the first time that day, Isabel cried, not because she feared Blackthorne...not because she feared King Lucas.
But because she was finally saying goodbye to the only place that had ever truly felt like home.
Morning arrived too quickly.
The Pack House buzzed with activity as warriors loaded luggage into a convoy of black SUVs bearing the silver crest of Blackthorne.
Isabel stepped outside with a small travel bag slung over her shoulder. Her family was already waiting.
Her mother embraced her tightly.
“Wherever life takes you…”
“Silverwood will always be your home.”
When they separated, Isabel turned to her father.
He looked at her for a long moment before speaking.
“You represent Silverwood now.”
“Never forget who you are.” he stated with no emotions in his eyes
“I won’t.”
Her older brother stepped forward and squeezed her shoulder.
“Take care of yourself.”
Her younger sister folded her arms.
“I still don’t understand why Father chose you.”
Isabel smiled faintly. "Neither do I.”
A familiar voice called from behind her.
“Leaving without saying goodbye?”
She turned.
Alfred walked toward her carrying a small black case.
Slightly out of breath, he held it out.
“I almost forgot.” he said
She opened it carefully. Inside rested a beautifully crafted tactical knife.
Its silver blade caught the morning light, and the handle bore the Silverwood crest.
She looked up at him. “You made this?”
“I finished it last night.”
She ran her fingers along the engraved handle.
“It’s beautiful.” she muttered her eyes glimmering with tears
“I remembered what you said.” he smiled faintly
She looked at him.
“You said daggers were easier to carry than claws.”
A quiet laugh escaped her. “I can’t believe you remembered that.”
“I remember everything.”
For a brief second, neither of them spoke. Then Alfred’s smile faded.
“Keep it with you.”
She understood immediately.
Not as a gift. As protection. She closed the case and nodded.
“I will.”
With one final look at Silverwood, Isabel climbed into the back seat of the lead SUV.
The convoy pulled away.
She looked through the rear window as the gates of Silverwood grew smaller and smaller.
Alfred remained standing at the edge of the road long after the vehicles had disappeared into the forest.
He looked down at the empty space where the knife had rested in his hands only hours earlier.
“Come back alive,” he whispered.
Then he turned and walked away.
The moon had not yet risen.
But he already had the feeling that Silverwood had just lost something it would never get back.
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