The sky above the pack lands had never looked stranger.
Clouds parted in a perfect circle, revealing a full moon at high noon—a celestial impossibility. Silver light rained down like mist, bathing the sacred garden and the crystal tomb at its heart.
And then, she appeared.
The Moon Goddess.
Her form shimmered above the tomb, radiant and terrible, like the embodiment of all things divine. Her presence struck the heart of every wolf in the pack. Elders fell to their knees. Warriors froze mid-step. Pups wept without knowing why.
Inside the tomb garden, Darrian's body lay collapsed near the crystal. His chest rose and fell, but he was unresponsive—his soul no longer tethered to the waking world.
The Goddess's voice echoed like thunder and song.
"Your Alpha walks between realms."
Gasps rippled through the gathered pack.
"He has stepped into the veil to retrieve the soul of your Luna—who was stolen from her fate by poison and betrayal. The journey is perilous. If he fails to find her… neither will return."
Murmurs and cries followed her words.
"Heather?" someone whispered in disbelief.
"He's going after her soul?" another breathed.
"You must not disturb his body," the Moon Goddess continued. "He remains bound to this world only by your faith and your protection. If his body is harmed—if the sacred link is severed—he will be lost forever."
The Beta, Callen, stepped forward, voice shaking. "What must we do?"
The goddess turned her gaze to him.
"Protect his vessel. Let no enemy, no betrayal, no grief destroy it. He has given everything to bring your Luna home. You must be his shield in his absence."
Without hesitation, warriors moved to lift Darrian's unconscious body. Carefully. Reverently.
They carried him to the Moon Hall, the oldest structure in the pack—where Luna ceremonies and Alpha ascensions were once held. There, they cleared the altar and laid him upon soft furs and sacred stone. Candles were lit around him. Spells woven to shield him from harm. Wolves volunteered in shifts to guard the doors—day and night, without pause.
And outside, word spread.
Heather had died.
Darrian had followed her into death.
And yet… hope lingered.
Because the Moon Goddess herself had come down to speak.
Because Darrian's chest still rose and fell, even without breath.
Because the bond, though cold, had not broken completely.
Inside the temple, young pups knelt and whispered prayers. Warriors sharpened blades, just in case Marcus returned. The elders summoned ancient scrolls to study what little was known of soul crossings. And Callen, standing guard with bloodshot eyes, swore to himself that he would die before letting anyone near Darrian's resting place.
The entire pack held its breath.
Waiting.
Hoping.
Praying.
For their Alpha to return with their Luna.
For love to defy even death.