Aria
The courtyard was lit with soft lanterns and one great fire in the center—tall and crackling, its heat reaching into the chilled night. Wolves from every corner of Blue Stone gathered, not in armor or ceremony robes, but in quiet anticipation.
Tonight wasn’t about war or prophecy. Tonight was about rebirth.
It had been Matthew’s idea, whispered against my skin the morning after our kiss. A ceremonial cleansing. An old tradition in Blue Stone. A rite meant to burn away the past and start again—honest, whole.
“I want them to see you the way I do,” he had said. “Not as my Luna. Not as some chosen vessel. But as you.”
So we planned it together.
And now, standing before the flames in a simple black dress, I held the bundle in my arms like it weighed more than cloth ever should.
My old servant's clothes. The ones I wore when I first arrived.
The torn skirt. The stained apron. The sleeves too tight across my arms, the fabric still carrying the scent of the kitchen where I used to scrub floors and swallow shame.
I walked to the fire slowly.
Matthew stood nearby, flanked by the council and the warriors. He didn’t speak. He didn’t interfere.
This moment belonged to me.
I stepped onto the stone platform, the bundle in my arms, and turned to face the pack.
Every breath felt heavier. But I spoke.
“When I came to Blue Stone,” I began, my voice steady but soft, “I was dropped at the gates like a burden no one wanted.”
A hush fell over the crowd.
“I was mocked. Ignored. Stripped of my name and worth. I wore these clothes for weeks, hoping one day I’d be seen. Not as a Luna. Not even as a warrior. Just as a person.”
I paused, unwrapping the bundle slowly.
“Back then, I thought strength was something I needed to earn—through obedience, through scars, through silence.”
I threw the apron into the fire. It caught immediately, flames devouring it like it had waited years to be burned.
“But now,” I continued, eyes flicking up to meet theirs, “I know something I didn’t before.”
I dropped the rest of the bundle into the flames. The cloth twisted, curled, turned to ash.
“Strength isn’t something you earn to be worthy.”
My voice rose just enough to reach the back.
“It’s something you always had—even when no one else saw it.”
Silence. Then, one by one, wolves lowered their heads.
Some bowed completely—shoulders to the ground.
Not out of fear. But respect. The kind that’s not demanded. The kind that’s given. Tears filled my eyes. I looked across the fire, and there he was.
Matthew.
His expression was unreadable—still and serious—but his eyes glowed like the flames.
And then he smiled. Not for show. Not as Alpha. Just for me. I took a slow breath and stepped back from the fire, my heart lighter than it had been in months.
But then—everything spun.
The heat suddenly turned sharp. My legs trembled beneath me. My vision blurred, the flames bending in strange shapes.
I reached for something—someone. The world tilted. And then I fell. But I didn’t hit the ground.
Matthew caught me just before my knees buckled completely. His arms wrapped around me tightly as he lowered us both down, panic rising in his voice.
“Aria?” he whispered, shaking. “Aria—what’s happening?”
My head lolled to the side, everything growing distant and cold.
“I—I don’t know,” I whispered.
Then darkness swept in.