When the moon choose a queen….
…..
Elena's scream tore through the night like a blade slicing through silk, sharp, impossible to ignore.
Lorenzo was at her side before she even blinked, hands steady but trembling under the weight of her panic. Silver light pulsed beneath her skin, flickering erratically like a storm trapped inside her veins.
"It's not… the heat," she gasped, voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. "It's… something else."
His golden eyes searched hers, fierce and desperate, while his wolf paced inside him, snarling, growling, claws itching for freedom. Something unnatural was out there. Something that made every instinct he had scream.
Marcus arrived moments later, his armor scratched, bloodied, but his posture taut with tension. "Scouts are back," he said, voice clipped. Every word carried the weight of foreboding.
Lorenzo's brow furrowed. "Found what?"
"They found graves," Marcus continued, eyes narrowing. "Empty graves. Old battlefields. Places we thought… we thought were finished. But someone's been stirring them."
Elena's fingers dug into Lorenzo's shirt, nails grazing the fabric as if anchoring herself to him, to safety. Her silver-tinged veins pulsed in rhythm with her fear.
"They're coming," she whispered, voice trembling yet steady enough to carry a warning. "Not living wolves… not fully dead."
Silence fell like a shroud over the packhouse.
Then the pack link ignited.
Fear rippled through every connection, a collective tremor that sank into bones and hearts alike. Every wolf felt it,hunger, danger, mortality.
But something else followed, threading through the panic like fire through steel: resolve.
Elena stepped forward.
Her legs shook, her body still raw from the Goddess's gift, from her first heat, from the battle that had almost claimed her. Her lips were pale, her eyes wide, but the light in them was steady.
She lifted her chin, and the moon answered.
Silver light washed the courtyard, bathing her in a glow that was not accidental, not gentle, not fleeting. It pulsed and shimmered, ancient and eternal, as though the Moon itself had chosen her to rise.
"I won't hide anymore," she said, voice carrying, trembling at first but gaining strength with each word. "I won't let them bleed for me while I stay silent. I won't let fear decide my place in this world."
The White Wolf surged inside her,not wild, not burning with uncontrollable heat,but steady, ancient, and eternal. Power hummed in her bones, coursed through her veins, a calm fire ready to protect, to lead, to command.
Lorenzo froze, chest rising and falling rapidly, golden eyes wide. The Alpha in him recognized her power,not as mate alone, but as a force beyond even his own understanding.
The pack felt it too. Warriors standing at attention, Beta and Gamma stiff with awe, even the youngest apprentices quivering at the edges of the courtyard.
"She is not just your mate," Marcus murmured, almost reverently, his gaze fixed on Elena. "She is… something more."
Elena met Lorenzo's eyes, unflinching despite the tremor in her hands and the lingering silver light that danced along her skin. "Let me stand with you," she said.
For a long, heart-stopping moment, he didn't move. His wolf growled low, claws digging into the stone beneath him. His chest tightened. His mind screamed at him to pull her back, to shield her, to protect her from a world that had already tried to destroy her too many times.
But the Moon had chosen her. The White Wolf had awakened. And if he denied her this moment, if he denied her place beside him, he would be denying everything the Goddess had intended.
He nodded once, sharply.
And the moon brightened.
Silver light cascaded through the forest, reflecting in the eyes of every wolf present, turning their fear into clarity, their hesitation into resolve. Elena's aura spread, a quiet but undeniable command, and even the Alpha felt the pull of her power.
"Together," she whispered, almost to herself, but the bond carried her words to every wolf in the courtyard.
"Together," Lorenzo echoed, voice low, raw, and trembling.
Somewhere beyond the horizon, the witch stirred. Her army of undead wolves quivered in anticipation. But Elena was no longer silent. She was no longer fragile. She was the Moon's chosen.
And now, she was ready to fight…..