Elowen's POV
---
The world didn't burn when he rejected me.
It went silent.
The roar from the ritual, the sacred flames, the elders' chants—
all of it collapsed into stillness.
Like even the Moon itself turned its gaze away from me.
My knees pressed against the cold stone of the altar. Blood still trailed from my hand, dried and blackened after the magic tore through me. My throat was raw from screaming. But now, I made no sound.
Not even when he stepped forward.
Alpha Lucien.
Golden boy. Son of the Assembly. The pride of Gravepine.
The one I had once dreamed would be my mate.
Now he stood above me like I was dirt beneath his boots.
His face was unreadable. But his voice—his voice cut like sharpened bone.
> "Elowen Vale," he said, loud enough for the entire pack to hear,
"by the rights granted to me by blood and Alpha law... I reject you."
The words echoed across the sacred ground.
Someone gasped. Another whispered, "She's cursed."
But most?
Most said nothing.
Because they agreed.
I felt the bond shatter—what little of it there ever was. It broke like fragile glass, slicing into my ribs as it went.
Rejection wasn't just emotional. It was spiritual.
It ripped through your bones.
And it left scars that never healed.
Lucien stepped back, his hands still stained with moonwater and blood. My blood.
I tried to speak, to say anything—Why? Please. You know it's not me—
But my voice caught in my throat.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly.
But there was no regret in his eyes.
Just fear.
And fear turned men cruel.
---
Elder Myrrh stepped forward. Her robes were scorched from the ritual, and the staff she leaned on trembled slightly in her hand.
"The ceremony has been defiled," she said. "The mark has appeared."
She didn't look at me.
No one did.
A low voice from behind me: "It's the Hollowveil curse."
"I thought the bloodline was dead—"
"Her eyes… they weren't normal."
"She should never have been allowed to enter the altar."
Their words sliced into me more than any claw ever could. I wasn't just rejected. I was being erased.
---
Lucien turned back to the crowd. His voice hardened.
"She is not wolf. She is not kin. She is marked."
My heart thudded. "No—no, you saw what happened! The magic— it took me! I didn't choose it!"
But my words only made them flinch.
"She speaks in madness now," one of the elders muttered.
Lucien stepped forward again. He drew his dagger—the same ceremonial blade he'd used in the Moonbond—and raised it to the sky.
The crowd fell into silence.
> "By the Crescent Law, I hereby brand Elowen Vale as condemned.
Marked by forbidden blood. Tainted by Hollowveil.
Let no pack shelter her. Let no bond claim her.
She is exiled."
---
My breath left my lungs.
No.
No, this wasn't real. This couldn't be happening.
I tried to stand. My knees buckled. The ritual had drained me—every flicker of power, every bone in my body trembled from whatever I'd unleashed. I was empty, burnt out, and alone.
Lucien took a step closer, the dagger still raised.
Then—he lowered it.
And carved the symbol of rejection into the air.
Three crescent slashes. One through the heart.
I flinched, as if it had cut me directly.
But the worst hadn't come yet.
---
A sound rose from the crowd. Low. Unified.
A chant.
> "Condemned. Condemned. Condemned."
It grew louder.
"Condemned. Condemned."
My vision blurred.
Not from magic.
From the tears I refused to let fall.
I turned—slowly, shakily—trying to walk away. My foot dragged. My side ached. Every step screamed against my body.
A rock hit my shoulder.
Then another.
And another.
"Get out of here!"
"Witch!"
"Monster!"
I didn't look back.
I couldn't.
---
I reached the edge of the altar grounds, where the firelight faded into trees. No wolf was allowed beyond this point without permission.
I crossed it anyway.
---
The woods swallowed me whole.
The sounds of the pack faded behind me.
The rejection pulsed through my body like poison.
I stumbled, fell, pushed myself up again. My vision dimmed. My blood dripped onto the forest floor.
And still… the silence haunted me.
My wolf—who had awakened for the first time in the ritual—was gone again.
Silent. Afraid.
Just like me.
> Are you ashamed of me too?
No answer.
---
I collapsed beside a fallen tree, gasping. I tried to breathe, but the pain wouldn't leave. It wasn't just the rejection. It wasn't just exile.
It was betrayal.
Lucien had looked me in the eyes and made me believe I was chosen.
Even if he didn't want me, even if he was forced by the Assembly—
I thought he'd protect me.
But he threw me to the wolves.
And they tore me apart without laying a single claw.
---
Night fell deeper.
The forest grew colder.
I curled into myself, trembling.
And that's when I heard it.
Footsteps.
Not animal.
Not pack.
Measured. Heavy. Soft.
I froze.
My heart began to pound. I tried to sit up—too slow. My limbs were numb.
A shadow moved through the trees.
Silver eyes gleamed in the dark.
Not wolf.
Not human.
Something in between.
> "She bleeds," the voice said. Low. Male.
"But she still stands."
I didn't move.
The figure stepped forward. Just enough for me to see the outline of his body—tall, lean, cloaked in black. A hood veiled most of his face, but those silver eyes—unmistakable.
They weren't like Lucien's.
They weren't the color of power or pride.
They were the color of memory.
And madness.
> "Who are you?" I whispered.
He tilted his head.
Then whispered:
> "You already know."
---
I blinked—and he was gone.
Nothing but wind and trees remained.
But my blood hummed.
The rune under my skin burned.
Kael.
The name returned to me like a promise made in fire.
And when I looked up at the sky,
I saw the Moon.
Still bleeding red.
---
But just as I turned to leave the clearing—
a final voice rose behind me.
Lucien.
Whispering to himself. Thinking I couldn't hear.
> "Why did I say those things…? Why did I—"
He stumbled, held his head.
"No. I'm in control. I am."
Then his eyes flickered—
Gold.
Not like a normal shift.
Not like a wolf.
But like a mask.
Breaking.