Chapter Four.
1002 Words
Dangerous. The word echoed in Aurora’s mind, absurd against the tremble in her hands, the sting of her bruises, the hollow in her chest. She looked around the room, searching desperately for one sympathetic face—just one pair of eyes that didn’t glare with judgment. But she found nothing.
Kael folded his arms across his chest, the picture of a wronged heir. “Banish her. Before she poisons the rest of us.”
The Alpha’s decision came down like a hammer. “At first light tomorrow, you will be cast out from this pack, Aurora. You will take nothing with you. By the laws of our ancestors, you are no longer one of us.”
A gasp ran through the hall, followed by a dangerous, hungry silence. Aurora’s stepmother smiled faintly; Lyra’s lips curled in satisfaction. Kael’s smirk widened until it nearly split his face.
Aurora’s breath hitched. Her vision blurred as tears filled her eyes, but she bit down hard, refusing to let them see her cry again. Her body was shaking, but some instinct deeper than fear whispered that if she broke here—completely broke—they’d already won.
She bowed her head, more from weakness than obedience, but inside, something hot and sharp uncurled in her chest.
If this is what they want… if this is what they’ve chosen…
She swallowed the cry that burned her throat.
The Alpha turned away, signaling the matter was finished. The hall erupted into murmurs, the sound of wolves preparing to watch one of their own be torn from them.
Aurora stayed where she was on the ground until her body moved on its own, dragging her toward the door, step by step. Behind her, the pack’s voices grew distant. Ahead of her, the faint light of morning crept into the corridor before she lost consciousness.
The horn sounded just as the first fingers of sunlight bled across the horizon.
Aurora flinched awake on the hard floor of the servants’ quarters, her bruised body aching from the restless hours of the night. She hadn’t really slept—every time her eyes closed, Kael’s shadow pressed down on her, Lyra’s voice hissed in her ears, and the Alpha’s sentence echoed like a curse.
Banishment.
She pulled herself upright slowly, wincing at the sting along her cheek where Kael had struck her, at the rip in her dress that hadn’t been mended. She had nothing to take with her. Nothing to carry. They had made sure of that.
Outside, the pack was already gathering in the square. Voices rose in the morning air—low, hungry, excited. Wolves always did love a spectacle.
Aurora stepped out into the cold dawn, her pale skin catching the light. Gasps rippled through the crowd at her appearance, bruised and battered but still upright. She heard the mutters, the venom in their words:
“Wolfless.”
“Whore.”
“Brought shame to the Alpha’s son.”
Her stepmother stood at the edge of the crowd, lips curved in smug satisfaction. Lyra lingered at Kael’s side, her hand twined possessively with his even as her gaze burned with victory. Kael, dressed in fresh clothes as though nothing had happened, smiled faintly at Aurora as though daring her to speak.
The Alpha lifted a hand, and silence fell. His voice carried over the gathering like thunder.
“Aurora, daughter of no wolf, accused of deception, lies, and the corruption of my son. By the laws of our pack and the blood of our ancestors, you are hereby banished. Step beyond our borders, and never return. Should you trespass again, you will be killed on sight.”
The words cut sharper than claws.
Aurora’s throat tightened, but she said nothing. No protest, no plea. They wouldn’t believe her. They never had.
Two guards stepped forward, flanking her on either side. They didn’t touch her, but their presence was enough to guide her through the jeering crowd. Wolves spat at the ground as she passed, curses following her every step.
Her heart hammered against her ribs, but her face stayed blank, her body moving stiffly forward until the trees loomed ahead.
At the border, the Alpha stopped. The guards halted, leaving her to stand alone before the invisible line that marked safety on one side and certain death on the other.
“Cross,” the Alpha commanded.
Aurora’s breath hitched. She looked back once—just once—at the pack she had called family, the home where she had endured every cruelty. Lyra’s triumphant sneer, Kael’s smug smirk, her stepmother’s icy glare. Not one soul looked at her with pity. Not one.
Tears burned her eyes, but she forced them back.
Without a word, Aurora stepped forward, leaving the border behind.
And just like that, she ceased to exist to them.The forest swallowed her whole.
The forest was endless.
Aurora didn’t know how long she had been walking—hours, maybe days. Time blurred together under the heavy canopy of trees, broken only by the ache in her limbs and the gnawing hunger in her belly. Her torn dress clung to her skin, sticky with dried blood and dirt, her bare feet cut and raw from stones and roots.
She had eaten little. Once, she found a patch of berries growing wild, their juice staining her fingers as she shoved them desperately into her mouth. Another time, she knelt by a stream, cupping handfuls of icy water to her lips until her stomach cramped.
It wasn’t enough. Her body screamed for more, her head spun, and each step felt heavier than the last.
But still she walked. Because stopping meant giving in. And she refused to die—not yet.
The trees grew darker as she moved deeper, their twisted branches clawing the sky. The air grew colder too, heavy with an edge that made her skin prickle. She didn’t know she had crossed a border. She didn’t sense the eyes watching her until it was too late.
- Writer
