RECLAIMED BY FATE

Chapter 3: Fractured Moonlight

Rejection wasn’t just a word—it was a force, crushing and relentless. It had claws, sharp and unseen, that sank into my chest, leaving me gasping for breath. The weight of it lingered long after Asher’s words had sliced through the air, long after I fled the Great Hall, and long after the moon cast its silver glow over the kingdom of Verauno.

The silence in my room felt alive, suffocating. It amplified the sound of my shallow breathing, each breath a reminder of the ache constricting my chest. The dress I’d worn—a borrowed attempt at dignity—lay discarded in a crumpled heap on the floor. Its faint lavender scent now seemed tainted by something metallic, something bitter, like disappointment sewn into its seams. I’d ripped it off the moment I stumbled into my room, as though shedding the fabric could erase the memories clinging to me.

But the memories didn’t fade. They rooted themselves in me.

I reject her.

Those three words weren’t just etched into my mind; they had planted thorns that twisted and tore at every fragment of my being. I replayed the moment endlessly: the way his voice rang out, sharp and decisive; the collective gasp of the crowd; the raw, piercing howl of my wolf, her anguish echoing my own.

I pressed trembling hands to my face, the heat of my tears pooling against my palms. I hadn’t wanted this. I hadn’t asked for it. I’d never even believed in the mate bond—not truly. To me, it was a myth for storybooks, something that happened to others. But the moment I felt it—the pull, the invisible thread tying me to him—I’d dared to hope.

Hope, as it turned out, was a merciless thing. It had attracted me , transported me on a cradle of promises, just to push me along into the abyss.

I curled into myself on the thin mattress with my knees tucked to my chest. The walls appeared to close in, the air was close-packed with despair. Sleep refused to come. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Asher’s face. Those dark, unyielding eyes that had looked at me with nothing but indifference—as if I were nothing.

By dawn, pale light leaking through the cracked shutters, I felt hollow. My body ached, my mind throbbed, and my wolf... she was silent. Her usual presence, a steady hum at the back of my mind, had dimmed into a void. The bond’s severance had muted her voice, and the quiet was unbearable.

I forced myself to rise, my movements stiff and mechanical. There was no purpose in it, no drive—only the stubborn instinct to keep moving. To stop was to drown beneath the weight of it all.

The courtyard was deserted when I stepped outside, the morning air crisp and biting against my skin. Stone paths glistened with dew, their slick surfaces mirroring my own fragility. I kept to the shadows, avoiding the main paths where others might linger. I couldn’t bear to face the eyes that had witnessed my humiliation.

“Aria.”

The voice was sharp, familiar, and far too close.

I froze, my pulse pounding in my ears. It wasn’t Asher—of course it wasn’t. It was Maren.

He stood a few feet away, his expression etched with worry. He took a hesitant step toward me, but I raised a hand to stop him.

“Don’t,” I said, my voice brittle.

“Don’t what?” he asked, softer now. “Don’t care? Don’t try to help?”

“Don’t pretend you can fix this,” I snapped, my words cutting like shards of glass. “You can’t, Maren. No one can.”

He flinched—just barely—but enough to make guilt twist in my gut. Maren had always been kind to me, one of the few who saw beyond the title of “omega.” Yet even his kindness felt like a weight I couldn’t bear right now.

“Aria,” he said, his voice low and steady. “You’re not alone in this.”

“Yes, I am,” I whispered, my words cracking under the strain of my pain. “He made sure of that.”

Maren’s jaw tightened, anger flickering in his eyes. “He’s wrong, Aria. About everything. And you’re stronger than—”

“Stop,” I interrupted, my voice trembling. “Please, Maren. Just… stop.”

His expression softened, his shoulders sagging as he studied me. “Okay,” he said finally, his voice laced with defeat. “I’ll give you space. But if you need me—”

“I know,” I said quickly, cutting him off. “Thank you.”

He lingered for a moment longer, then walked away, his footsteps faded into stillness. I watched him going, my chest remained tightening . His help was a lifeline I couldn’t reach for—not now. This was my pain to bear, my humiliation to endure.

The outskirts of Verauno were a place of safety for the broken. Here, the air was close-packed with the scent of pine and damp earth, the towering trees standing silent and steady. This was where I fled to when I needed to escape, to breathe.

I roamed over aimlessly, the forest put a blur around me. Questions agitated violently in my mind, each one more unanswerable than the last. Why had the bond chosen me? Why had Asher rejected it? Why wasn’t I enough?

The final question hit hardest. I wasn’t enough. I never had been.

The truth settled in my chest like a stone. I was an omega—familyless, futureless, and now, mate-less. My entire life had been a battle to prove my worth, but last night had torn down every façade I’d built. Asher’s rejection had made it clear: there was nothing in me worth fighting for.

I reached a small stream, its gentle trickle offering a fragile When I was kneeling by the water’s edge, I stared at my reflection. Pale skin. Shadowed eyes. Tangled hair. I looked as broken as I felt.

“I don’t know who I am anymore,” I whispered, the words vanishing into the forest.

My wolf stirred faintly, her presence dim but not gone. She didn’t speak, but her grief mirrored my own.

That night, as the moon rose high above Verauno, I packed what little I owned: a tattered cloak, a small knife, and a pouch of dried meat. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to take me away from here—to the forests, to freedom.

For the first time, I wasn’t running toward something. I was running away.

And maybe, for now, that was enough