1
One month after Garrick's fall, the forest was alive again.
The air smelled of pine and spring rain instead of blood. Young wolves laughed in the sanctuary courtyard. Lyra ran barefoot through the wildflowers with the children, her laughter rising like birdsong.
And me?
I was learning how to live without fear.
Learning how to breathe without counting heartbeats.
Learning how to love slowly, gently, like the dawn.
Some days I still woke up gasping.
Other days I slept straight through the night.
Both were victories.
2
The old ruins of Blackwater had become part of the earth again.
We let the forest reclaim it.
No monuments.
No graves.
Only wildflowers growing where a tyrant once ruled.
"Let the ground forget," I said as we scattered ashes over the hilltop.
Cailen stood beside me, holding my hand. No chains. No claims.
Just choice.
"Do you think he's gone?" he asked.
"Garrick?" I said. "Yes."
"And the part of him that stayed inside you?"
I exhaled.
"Still fading."
He didn't rush me.
Didn't fill the silence.
He just stood there, strong and quiet, like he always did when I needed it most.
3
That night, the council gathered for the first full moon since the war ended.
Vessia, Lyra, Ronan, Caelum, and me.
We met not as rulers but as equals.
"I propose we disband the idea of a Luna or Alpha altogether," Vessia said, nodding toward me.
"I second that," Caelum added. "We can't build a new world using the bones of the old one."
"Agreed," I said.
Lyra lifted her glass. "Then let the titles die with the tyrants."
We drank.
Not to forget.
But to remember why we fought in the first place.
4
Later, I sat alone under the moonlight.
I used to hate the moon.
It watched every beating I took.
Every mark Garrick carved into my skin.
But now it watched me heal.
Watched me rise.
And in the stillness, it felt like it was finally shining for me.
Cailen joined me, handing me a mug of herbal tea.
"You don't talk much these days," I said with a soft smile.
"I talk when there's something worth saying."
"Is there?"
He looked at me seriously.
Then knelt.
"I'm not asking to claim you. I'm not asking to bind you. I just want to walk beside you—for however long you'll have me."
My breath caught.
Not because of fear.
But because of peace.
And peace was more terrifying than war when you'd never known it before.
"Yes," I whispered.
"I'd like that."
5
We didn't mark each other.
Didn't mate in some grand ritual.
We just woke up the next morning tangled in blankets and sunlight.
No Luna.
No Alpha.
Just two wolves who had survived their pasts and built a future together.
I walked outside, barefoot in the dew, and looked at the young wolves playing with Lyra near the riverbank.
One of them turned to me and asked, "Are you the Luna?"
I shook my head gently.
"No. I'm just Aurora."
"But you saved everyone," he said.
"Maybe," I answered. "But I had to save myself first."
6
Some stories end in fire.
Others in blood.
Mine ended in choice.
Not just to fight. But to forgive.
Not just to survive. But to live.
And not just to love again—but to love myself.
The moon hung full in the sky, watching.
But this time, I didn't hide from it.
I howled.
Not because I was afraid.
But because I had something to say.
And this time, the moon howled back.