Shifting fates

Chapter Eight: The Mating Ceremony

The clearing glows silver under the full moon, the grass littered with petals and lanterns, like a scene from some fairytale dream. Except dreams don’t come with a broken ribcage where your heart used to be.

The entire pack gathers in a ring, dressed in ceremonial silks and half-moon smiles. My bare feet are numb from the cold, but I stay still, standing at the edge of the crowd where the shadows keep me company.

In the center, Ellie glows like the chosen one. Her gown is soft lilac silk, draped just so, her long dark hair twisted into flowing waves and pinned with silver clips. She looks like a vision. Like me—if you removed everything flawed and broken and real.

We’re identical, technically. Same sharp cheekbones, same long lashes, same dark eyes and pale gold skin. But standing here, watching her walk toward the Alpha with a smile stitched across her face, I’ve never felt more unlike her.

Lucian stands beside me, arms folded. Silent. Loyal. The only thing tethering me to this ground.

Our parents are all smiles and tears, doting on Ellie like she’s some precious heirloom finally restored to its rightful place. Mum is openly crying now, fanning her face with trembling hands.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she coos, smoothing Ellie’s hair even though it’s perfect. “You were always meant for something great.”

Dad puffs out his chest, one hand clapped proudly on Ryker’s shoulder like he handpicked the Alpha himself.

Neither of them even glances my way. Not once.

“Think they’d notice if I just… walked into the woods and disappeared?” I murmur.

Lucian doesn’t laugh. Just bumps his shoulder against mine. “Only if you took the wine with you.”

I don’t smile. I can’t. My body feels brittle, like I’ve been hollowed out and stitched back wrong. My wolf, once curled around my soul like a warm presence, is still eerily silent. Missing. Dead weight inside me where something wild and alive used to be.

Ryker steps into the circle now, dark and polished, his expression smug as always. He doesn’t look at me—not even a flicker of recognition. Just focuses on Ellie with a predator’s smile, like he’s already claimed her. Maybe he has.

Ellie lowers her eyes, fake-shy and glowing, and places her hand in his.

The Elders begin the chant, ancient and low. The words ripple like a vibration through the air. The moment of acceptance is coming. The point of no return.

My throat burns.

“I accept you, Ryker, as my mate,” Ellie says, voice honey-sweet and confident.

“I accept you, Ellie, as mine and as our pack's Luna.”

A wave of invisible power pulses through the crowd. The bond seals.

And something inside me fractures.

The pack erupts into cheers, howls echoing across the clearing like fireworks. People surge forward to congratulate them. Someone hands Ellie a flower crown. She giggles. She’s already glowing with the bond’s power, feeding off it.

Lucian stays silent beside me.

I turn my face slightly, hoping the darkness hides the tears prickling in my eyes. My stomach twists. I want to run, to scream, to dig into the dirt with my bare hands and disappear. But instead I stand there, still and silent, because that’s what I’ve always done. What I’ve always been told to do.

Lucian slides a hand into mine.

“Want me to fake a seizure?” he asks softly. “Might derail the vibe.”

I let out something between a laugh and a sob. “Only if you foam at the mouth. Go big or go home.”

He squeezes my hand, grounding me.

“They look happy,” I whisper, not sure if it’s sarcasm or truth anymore.

“They look rehearsed,” Lucian says.

I glance up at him. “Do I look as beautiful as her?”

He squeezes my fingers again. “Stunning inside and out.”

I lean my head on his shoulder, hollow and silent as the celebration rages on.

This should have been mine.

But now it's hers.

The music fades. The laughter dies.

A hush ripples through the clearing like a spell settling over the pack. Mated pairs and younglings begin retreating toward the treeline, slipping into the shadows with quiet goodbyes and whispered blessings. The air feels charged—anticipation heavy and old. Every wolf knows what comes next.

The claiming.

The final, physical act that binds Alpha to Luna under the full moon. It’s sacred. Intimate. Raw.

I turn, already taking a step back, when fingers like claws clamp down on my arm.

I flinch. “Ow—!”

My mother’s grip is vise-like, sharp nails biting through the delicate sleeve of my kimono. Her face is carved from ice, lips painted, eyes furious.

“You will stay,” she hisses. “You will support your sister.”

I stare at her, stunned. “You want me to—watch?”

“She is your twin,” she snaps. “This moment is hers. You will not sulk and skulk off like a child.”

“She stole my mate.” I say it quietly, but it feels like a scream.

Her nostrils flare. “You weren’t good enough for him. That’s not her fault.”

The words hit harder than a slap.

Lucian is suddenly at my side, his jaw clenched. “That’s enough.”

But she’s already releasing me with a final shove, sharp enough to throw me off balance. “Stay,” she commands, before stalking off, leaving me stunned in the half-dark.

Lucian reaches for me again. “You don’t have to—”

“I do,” I whisper.

The moon is full and watching. The clearing now holds only the unmated—those chosen to witness the sacred rite. I feel them glance at me, whispering behind cupped hands. The twin. The wrong one. The mate that wasn’t.

Ellie stands in the centre of the clearing, glowing in her lilac silk. Her smile is coy, rehearsed. Her lips are painted a glossy pink. She looks beautiful.

And I want to hate her for it.

Ryker steps forward, dressed in dark ceremonial robes now peeled down to the waist. The runes inked into his skin glimmer faintly in the moonlight. He’s a statue carved from shadow and arrogance. His gaze roams over Ellie.

They stand before the Elders, palms pressed together.

“Do you, Eleanor of Stormhollow, offer yourself freely and completely to your fated bond?”

“I do,” Ellie whispers, breathless.

The Elders step back.

The bond ignites.

Their auras flare like twin flames meeting in the dark, raw magic sweeping through the clearing, and I feel it—like the last thread tying me to Ryker has been cut.

And then Ellie moves.

She turns toward him, her arms wrapping around his neck, lips brushing his ear. Whatever she says makes him chuckle darkly. His hands slide down her back, fingers curling into the silk of her gown.

Someone gasps softly behind me.

The silk slips off her shoulder.

I turn my face away—instinct.

But I don’t leave. I can’t.

I hear the soft rustle of fabric, the shifting of bodies.

The claiming isn’t always public. But Ryker is a traditionalist. He wants witnesses. He wants proof.

My stomach churns.

Ellie moans—high, breathy. I don’t know if it’s real or for show. Either way, it guts me.

Lucian is suddenly there, arms pulling me back into him, wrapping me in his warmth. His hand covers my eyes.

“Close them, Raine,” he whispers, and his voice is gentle.

But it’s too late.

Tears are already sliding down my cheeks, silent and hot.

I bury my face in his chest, hands fisting the fabric of his shirt. His heart beats strong under my cheek, steady, anchoring.

The sounds continue. Gasps. Murmurs. The rhythm of flesh and power.

The moment stretches forever.

And then it’s done.

The air changes—settles. The pack begins to shift and stir again. Ryker lets out a final growl, low and victorious. Ellie’s laugh floats into the air like a bell.

Lucian whispers, “It’s over.”

But I don’t feel relief.

Only emptiness.

And shame for staying.