Aria
Becoming Luna in the title was a victory. Becoming Luna in truth? That was a daily battle.
The morning after the duel, I stood in the center of the council room with the Luna crest pinned back over my heart. Matthew had placed it there in front of the pack, blood still drying on his knuckles, voice steady as he said, “She’s earned this.”
But respect didn’t come with a pin. It didn’t come with silence.
It came with resistance.
The elders sat stiffly at the long stone table, their wrinkled hands folded as they stared at me like I was still the broken girl who had once cried outside their halls. One of them asked in a cold voice, “Do we prepare the Luna oath now, or wait until the pack has accepted her return?”
Matthew, seated beside me, didn’t hesitate. “She is Luna. You don’t need a ceremony to catch up with reality.”
Still, I heard the murmurings. I saw the looks passed between warriors who trained harder when I wasn’t watching. They didn’t disobey directly, but they hesitated. Some left the room while I was mid-sentence. Others said “yes, Luna” without looking me in the eyes.
And the whispers followed me through the halls like shadows.
“She only got that title because of him.”
“She’s not strong enough to lead us.”
“She ran when it mattered—what if she does it again?”
“Have you seen her? She’s not exactly the image of a warrior Luna.”
Every day, I walked through Blue Stone with my shoulders straight, but it didn’t stop the slow ache from forming in my chest.
Matthew defended me in public. When a young scout laughed after I gave him a command, Matthew slammed him against the wall and growled, “If you ever disrespect your Luna again, you won’t walk for a week.” The scout nodded through gritted teeth. The room fell silent.
But fear doesn’t build loyalty. And I didn’t want to lead through fear.
I wanted them to believe in me. Behind closed doors, Matthew was different.
He came home later. He spoke less. When I sat beside him at the fire, he kept his eyes on the flames. His touches were brief, distracted. Like he was present in body but his mind was always elsewhere—caught between war councils and border tensions.
He wanted to protect me, I knew that. But he didn’t know how to talk to me anymore.
He never asked how I felt. He never told me how he felt. And in that silence, Elias returned like a slow breath I didn’t know I was holding.
He didn’t speak more than he needed to. He didn’t flatter or pity me. He simply showed up—when the council bruised me with their cold words, when Matthew forgot to return from the war room, when I stood on the balcony with the crest heavy on my chest and my hands trembling behind my back.
One night, I found myself outside the east wing alone, staring at the dark sky. The stars were blurred behind clouds, and my mind felt just as foggy.
Elias stepped beside me. He didn’t ask permission. He simply leaned against the stone railing and looked out at the trees.
“They think I’m a failure,” I said softly, not really meaning to speak aloud.
“They’re wrong,” he replied without hesitation.
“They won’t follow me.”
“Then lead anyway,” he said, turning to meet my eyes.
I looked down at my hands. “What if I’m not strong enough?”
He was quiet for a moment. Then he said gently, “Don’t let the crown crush you.”
I looked up at him. His voice softened. “And don’t forget who you are beneath it.”
I swallowed hard, emotion tightening my throat. “I don’t know who that is anymore.”
He gave me a sad smile. “Then start with the girl who wanted to change the world—not survive it.”
I didn’t answer him. Because deep down, I wasn’t sure what scared me more—losing Matthew’s approval, or trusting Elias again.
The next morning, I stood with Elias in the war room, the table covered in maps of Blue Stone territory. We discussed possible weak points along the northern ridge, where rogue sightings had been reported. Elias leaned over the table, his arm brushing mine as he pointed to a trail near the eastern cliffs.
I laughed at something he said—some dry joke about the elders getting lost in their own ego—and for a moment, it felt light again. For a heartbeat, I forgot I was Luna. I was just Aria.
But the moment shattered when the door burst open.
Matthew stood in the doorway, his body still, but his expression was anything but calm.
His eyes locked onto me. Then to Elias. Then back to me. He didn’t speak. His jaw tightened.
I watched the muscles in his arms tense, his fingers curling. His shoulders rose with each breath. I could feel the heat radiating off him, and something stirred beneath his skin—his wolf.