—"We can't let her get any stronger," Kieran whispered, his voice low and sharp, cutting through the shadowed alcove. Elara pressed herself against the wall, her heart pounding so loud she was sure they'd hear it. She'd turned the corner just in time to catch their words, and now she couldn't move, couldn't breathe, as she listened to Isabella and Kieran plotting. "She's already got some of the pack on her side," Isabella hissed, her tone dripping with venom. "If she keeps this up, she'll ruin everything. We need to—"
Elara's foot slipped on the stone floor, a small scuff echoing in the quiet hall, and she froze, her breath catching. The whispers stopped, and she heard Isabella's sharp intake of breath. "What was that?" the she-wolf snapped, her voice tense. Elara didn't wait to find out if they'd seen her—she turned and ran, her steps quick and silent, her heart racing as she slipped down another hallway. She didn't stop until she reached her room, closing the door behind her and leaning against it, her chest heaving. What were they planning? Whatever it was, it wasn't good—not for her, not for the pack.
She sank onto her bed, her hands trembling as she tried to calm down. The meeting had already left her on edge—Isabella's accusations, the pack's judgment, Darius's silence—and now this. She felt like she was walking on a knife's edge, one wrong step away from falling. Her pendant felt warm against her skin, warmer than usual, and she pulled it out, staring at the crescent moon shape. It had been glowing more often lately, especially in her dreams, and she couldn't shake the feeling that it was trying to tell her something.
Sleep didn't come easy that night. When she finally drifted off, the dream came quickly, vivid and haunting. She was in a forest, the trees tall and dark, the air thick with mist. A white wolf stood before her, its fur glowing like moonlight, its eyes a piercing gold that seemed to see right through her. "The rejected will rise," the wolf said, its voice a low, echoing whisper that sent chills down her spine. "Born of the first luna's blood, marked by the crescent moon. You will unite, or you will destroy." Elara's heart raced, her hands reaching for the pendant, but the wolf stepped closer, its gaze unyielding. "Embrace your destiny, child," it said, "or all will be lost."
The pendant flared in her dream, its light blinding, and Elara jolted awake, her breath coming in gasps. She sat up, her hand flying to the pendant, and her eyes widened as she saw it glowing, brighter than ever before, casting a soft silver light across her room. The warmth spread through her chest, a strange mix of comfort and fear, and she clutched the pendant tighter, her mind racing. The white wolf, the words—it was the same prophecy Darius had found, the same one tied to the first luna. But what did it mean? Was she really the rejected luna the prophecy spoke of?
She couldn't go back to sleep, not after that. She got up, pulling on her boots and a cloak, and slipped out of her room, needing to move, to think. The fortress was quiet, the halls lit by flickering torches, and she made her way outside, the cold night air biting at her cheeks. The moon was full, its light casting long shadows across the courtyard, and she started walking, her steps aimless, her mind still on the dream.
She didn't see Darius until she nearly ran into him. He was on patrol, his broad shoulders tense, his storm-gray eyes sharp as he scanned the darkness. "Elara," he said, his voice low, and she froze, her heart skipping a beat. He was close—too close—and the mate bond flared between them, a golden heat that made her skin tingle. "What are you doing out here?" he asked, his tone gruff but not unkind.
"I… I couldn't sleep," she said, her voice soft, her eyes darting to his. He was looking at her, really looking at her, and she felt her cheeks flush under his gaze. They stood there, the moonlight casting shadows across his face, and she felt his hand brush hers, the touch sending sparks through her. Her breath hitched, her body warming as the bond pulled them closer, and for a moment, she thought he might pull her into his arms, might kiss her right there under the moon. She could almost feel his lips on hers, his hands on her waist, the heat of him against her.
Darius felt it too, the bond a living thing between them, urging him to close the distance. Her scent—wildflowers and rain—filled his senses, her blue eyes wide and unguarded, and his wolf growled, desperate to claim her. But he couldn't—not after everything he'd done, not with the pack watching his every move. He pulled his hand back, stepping away, his jaw tight. "Go back inside," he said, his voice rough. "It's not safe out here." Elara's heart sank, the rejection stinging all over again, but she nodded, turning away before he could see the hurt in her eyes.
She headed back to the fortress, her emotions a tangled mess, but the dream still lingered, pushing her to act. The next morning, she found Eldric in the clearing, earlier than usual, her staff already in hand. "I need to train harder," she said, her voice firm, her eyes fierce. Eldric raised an eyebrow but nodded, and they got to work. Elara pushed herself to her limits, her strikes faster, her blocks stronger, her wolf guiding her with every move. She could feel her strength growing, a power she hadn't known she had, and it unnerved some of the Nightclaw wolves watching. "She's not normal," one of them whispered, his voice uneasy. "No omega should be that strong."
After training, Elara sat with Eldric on the fallen log, her breath still coming in gasps. She hesitated, then pulled out her pendant, the silver crescent catching the light. "I had a dream last night," she said, her voice quiet. "A white wolf—it said 'the rejected will rise.' And my pendant… it glowed, brighter than ever." She looked at Eldric, her eyes searching his. "What does it mean? Do you know anything about this?"
Eldric's expression softened, a flicker of something—recognition, maybe—crossing his face. "I've heard the stories," he said, his voice low. "The first luna, the prophecy… it's old, older than me. But that pendant…" He paused, his gaze distant, then looked at her, his eyes sharp. "I knew your mother, Elara. She had one just like it. And she had the same gift."
Elara's breath caught, her heart racing. "My mother?" she whispered. "What gift? What are you talking about?" Eldric's voice dropped, his words heavy with meaning. "She had the same gift," he said, his voice low, and Elara's pendant flared, its light blinding as—