DEMITRI POV
The council chamber felt colder than usual. Damn too cold.
I stood at the head of the table, hands pressed hard on the wood, trying to fake that I still had everything under control. Rose stood right beside me .
Her scent was thick in the air supposed to calm me down. It didn't. It just made me more restless.
"Rose will be crowned Luna," I said. My voice came out flat. "Full moon in three nights. The pack needs unity. We've mourned enough."
Garron cut me off before I finished."No." His voice sliced clean through the room. Old eyes locked on mine — no fear, just hard stone. "Tradition demands a burial rite first. For the former Luna. Body or no body."
Murmurs went around the table quickly. The elders nodded slowly. Even the younger ones looked uneasy.
"She renounced us," I snapped. "She walked away. There is no former Luna."
Garron didn't move."She was Luna when she left. She Served this pack. Earned the rite. We send her spirit on properly — or the Moon Goddess will remember we didn't."
Rose's fingers brushed my arm — light, trying to calm me. "It's only right," she murmured. "Let them have their ceremony. Then we move forward."
I hated how reasonable she sounded. Hated it more that she was right. Damn it all.
"Fine," I said through clenched teeth. "Tonight. River bend. Do it."
The pack gathered at dusk.
Torchlight jumped across the dark water — made the river look strange, like gold streaks in black.
We'd thrown together this little raft earlier — cheap pine logs tied with rope, white linen tossed over it with the old Blue Moon crescent and wolf stitched on there was no body no it. Just one lock of her hair — Mara cut it from Alex's pillow and handed it over without looking at me — wrapped in silk, sitting in the middle like it weighed a ton.
Everyone lined the banks — elders up front, younger ones behind, kids held close. Nobody said much above a whisper.
Garron stepped up alone, barefoot on the cold stones, holding that ritual torch — sage and moonflower tied with silver. He lifted it high so the flame caught the breeze, then brought it down slowly
.
He started the chant — quiet at first, then louder as the pack joined.
"Goddess of the silver light, hear our call.
Luna once chosen, steady and true,
We release you from earth's heavy thrall.
Cross the river, cross the veil anew.
By moon and flame, by blood and bone,
We send you home where spirits roam.
No chain shall bind, no shadow follow.
Go in peace beneath the hollow."
Words rolled out over the water. Everyone knew them — old chant, passed down forever. My voice came out rough, unsteady. Rose didn't sing. Lips pressed tight beside me. I hated that she was silent. Hated that she was here at all.It just didn't feel right
Garron touched the torch to the kindling under the raft — cedar, rosemary, wolfsbane sprigs for protection. Flames caught slow, crackling, hungry.
The raft drifted out on the current, fire getting bigger against the black water, throwing orange light on every face along the bank.
The pack lifted their heads.
Howls rose — long, sad, overlapping. Mine ripped out raw — grief, regret, something sharp clawing my throat. It shook through my chest, bounced off the trees, and rolled over the territory.
We waited.
Every burial I'd ever seen, a past Luna showed up — ghostly, gentle — to guide the spirit over. Old Lira came for my grandmother years ago, pale in silver light, hand out, smiling soft as she led the way into the dark. I waited tonight for my own mother — the Luna before Alex — to step out of the flames, take her hand, whisper the last blessing, and lead her into the moonlight.But there was nothing.
No shimmer. No pale figure from the fire. No soft voice with the old farewell. Just crackling wood, river lapping the raft, silence getting thicker as the flames climbed.
Howls died off one by one. Unease settled over everyone like fog rolling in off the water.
Garron frowned at the burning raft. "No guide…"
A younger wolf in the back whispered, "Maybe because there's no body…"
An elder next to him muttered, "The Goddess always sends someone. Always. Even for the lost."
Rose squeezed my arm. "It's done," she whispered. "She's at peace now."
I didn't answer. Kept staring at the raft until it curved around the bend and vanished, flames still eating it up.
Garron faced the pack. "Forty days," he said hard. "We wait forty days. If no spirit shows up on the grounds or river, we assume she's gone beyond our sight. The rite was done right. That's gotta be enough."
The pack broke up slowly. Some wolves hung around the water, staring after the fire. Others walked back to the compound quietly, heads down.
Rose tugged my arm gently. "Come. Tomorrow we start again."
I followed. But my wolf stayed stuck by the river in my head — whining low, refusing to leave that empty bank.
Forty days dragged on.
No sign. No vision. No whisper from the Goddess.
Council met again fortieth morning. Garron looked grim, but nodded.
"Rite was done. No spirit came back. We can go ahead."
Rose's coronation is set for the next full moon.
Invitations went out that afternoon to every allied pack. Thick parchment scrolls, sealed with Blue Moon indigo wax, crescent sigil stamped on each. Scouts rode out every direction — north, east, south, west — carrying the same formal message:
Alpha Demitri of Blue Moon invites you and your pack to witness the official crowning of Rose of Silverclaw as Luna. A time of unity and new beginnings under the full moon. Three nights hence.
One scroll went north. To Virek territory. Addressed straight to Cassian Virek.
I sealed it last.My Fingers hung on the wax while it cooled. No note. No personal word. Just the invitation. Courtesy. Politics. Nothing more.
Or so I told myself.
The compound buzzed with activity the next few days.
Women strung lanterns along courtyard arches — silver and white, moon honor. Tailors measured Rose for her gown — deep midnight blue silk with silver threads, moonstone and wolf-tooth crown for her head.
Kitchens prepped feasts — roasted venison, spiced bread, honeyed fruits — enough for three allied packs and leftovers.
Rose moved through it all like she was born for it.
That evening, two days before the full moon, she found me in chambers.
The door clicked shut behind her. She crossed without a word, arms around my waist from behind, lips on the back of my neck.
"I can't wait," she whispered against my skin. "In two nights… I'll finally be yours. Truly. Luna in name and bond."
Her hands slid up my chest. Slow. Deliberate.
I turned in her arms. Looked down at her — beautiful, certain, fated. Everything I was supposed to want.
"I know," I said. Voice low.
She rose on her toes. Kissed me — soft at first, then deeper, hungrier. Fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me closer. I kissed back. Let the bond flare hot, drowning the hollow ache for a minute.
When we broke apart, her eyes were bright.
"You've been so quiet," she murmured. "Since the border. Since… her."
I rested my forehead against hers. "It's done. She's gone."
Rose smiled — small, triumphant. "Then let me remind you what we have. What's waiting."
She tugged me to the bed. Clothes came off in a quiet rush. Her skin is warm against mine. Her moans soft in my ear as I moved inside her. For those minutes, emptiness quieted. Regret dulled.
Afterwards, she curled up against me. Head on my chest, tracing lazy circles over my heart
.
"In two nights," she whispered again. "I'll stand beside you. No more shadows. No more borrowed titles."
I stared at the ceiling. Ache came back — quieter, but still there.
"Yes," I said. "Soon."
The next morning, Rose's parents arrived early.
Beta Harlan of Silverclaw and his mate, Liora, rode in with a small group — six warriors, banners high. Harlan dismounted first, broad-shouldered, silver in his hair, eyes sharp as he grabbed my forearm.
"Alpha Demitri," he said. Deep voice, approving. "Came as soon as the invitation arrived. My daughter's crowning is a proud day for Silverclaw."
Liora stepped down, gracefully, kissed Rose's cheek. "We're early to help with preparations. And to see our girl become Luna in truth."
Rose beamed, linked arms with her mother. "I've missed you both."
They walked toward the main hall, already talking gowns and seating.
Harlan hung back with me for a second. "The pack looks strong," he said quietly. "But the absence… it's felt. Burial rite is talked about even in Silverclaw. No guide appearing… unsettles wolves."
I nodded once. "Unsettles us too."
He clapped my shoulder. "Then let the crowning bring closure. Rose is fated. She'll steady things."
I watched them disappear inside.
Full moon two nights away.
That afternoon, the scout came back to the courtyard, horse lathered, scroll in hand.
Bowed low. "Alpha."
I took the scroll. Virek black wax, unbroken.
"Cassian Virek's acceptance," scout said. "He's coming. The night of the full moon."
Words hit like a rock in still water.
Rose's smile — she was close, talking with her mother — faltered half a heartbeat.
My wolf stirred — sharp, uneasy Cassian was coming here.
To watch Rose crowned in Alex's old place.
I took the scroll. Fingers steady. Heart not.
Somewhere beyond lanterns being strung, beyond preparations buzzing around us, night already felt heavier — like the moon itself holding its breath.