1
The scent hit me first.
Smoke. Leather. And a trace of lavender.
Not just any lavender.
My lavender.
The blend I once wore as Luna of Blackwater. A mixture Garrick demanded, claiming it made me smell like "obedience wrapped in silk."
My blood chilled.
The moment I stepped out of the strategy tent, I saw him standing at the edge of the ridge, his cloak flapping in the wind like he still belonged to something.
My brother.
Ronan.
I hadn't seen him in four years. Not since the night he left me to rot in Garrick's grasp, promising to come back.
He never did.
And now here he stood, looking older, broader, his once-boyish face hardened by distance and dirt and decisions I wasn't ready to forgive.
"Aurora," he said, as if my name was a spell that still worked on me.
I stared at him.
Then punched him across the face.
2
"You left me," I hissed, hand trembling from the strike.
He staggered but didn't retaliate. Just wiped the blood from his lip and looked at me with those same eyes storm-gray, like our mother's.
"I came back."
"Too late."
"I didn't have a choice."
"There's always a choice. You just didn't make me one."
The wind howled between us.
Then he said something that silenced it.
"He's alive."
My breath stilled.
"No," I whispered. "You're lying."
"I wish I was," Ronan said. "But Garrick isn't dead. The body burned wasn't his. It was a decoy. A soldier glamoured with dark magic. Garrick escaped two nights before the siege."
I felt the world tilt beneath me.
Because deep down, I had felt it.
The unfinished ending. The way his shadow still lingered, even in my dreams.
I'd just prayed it was grief.
Not prophecy.
3
Cailen was the first to demand answers.
"Why now? Why come crawling back to her with this?"
Ronan didn't flinch. "Because Garrick is rebuilding. South of the Hollow fang range. Quietly. With wolves who still believe he's their savior."
"And you?" I asked coldly. "What are you now? A spy? A coward with a guilty conscience?"
"I'm still your brother," he said. "Whether you want me or not."
"You don't get to decide that."
Silence fell.
Then Vessia stepped forward, studying Ronan like a wolf appraising a wounded deer.
"If what he says is true," she said, "then our Luna needs to decide if we're preparing for peace… or war."
I met her gaze.
And for the first time in days, I felt the fire return to my bones.
"If Garrick breathes," I said, "then peace was never an option."
4
That night, I sat alone by the fire outside my tent, the charm Kael gave me still clutched in my hand. The silver fang felt heavier than usual.
"Can I sit?" Ronan's voice was quieter now.
I didn't look up.
"Do what you want. You always have."
He sat anyway.
For a long time, we just listened to the fire crack.
"When I left," he began, "I was trying to gather allies. I knew Garrick would kill me if I stayed. I thought I could build a force strong enough to challenge him."
"You thought wrong."
"I know. But I never stopped looking for you. When I found what he'd done what he'd made you I couldn't breathe."
"You were my only family," I whispered. "And I died alone."
He didn't argue. Didn't try to fix it.
Just sat beside me, quiet and broken.
And maybe that was all I needed from him.
Not forgiveness.
But truth.
5
The next morning, I summoned the pack.
Under the rising sun, we gathered around the stone ring, where trials had been held, oaths sworn, and rogues judged.
Ronan stood beside me, silent, eyes on the crowd.
I raised my voice.
"Garrick is alive."
A ripple of shock surged through the gathered wolves. Some cursed. Some lowered their heads in dread. Others newer, angrier tightened their fists.
I continued.
"He hides beyond the southern ridge, gathering strength. But we do not cower. We do not run."
I turned, facing every face I had bled for.
"We rise."
"Rise," Vessia echoed.
Cailen stepped forward. "Then we take the fight to him?"
"No," I said. "Not yet."
Murmurs spread.
I lifted a hand.
"We need allies. We need our laws. Our land. If we strike now, we become what he was—mad with vengeance and blind to the cost."
I pointed at the carved banner hanging behind me: the silver wolf over black.
"We do not build empires on bone. We build a future that lasts."
And they listened.
Because they saw me not the caged Luna.
Not the victim.
But the Luna Reborn.
6
Later, Cailen approached me in the weapons tent, where I was oiling my blades. His expression was unreadable.
"You're holding back."
"I'm preparing."
He leaned against the post. "You're scared."
I looked up. "Aren't you?"
"Terrified."
We laughed softly tired, hollow but real.
Then he said, "You should know… I would follow you. Into war. Into ruin. Into anything."
My throat caught.
"I don't deserve that."
"You don't have to deserve it. You just have to want it."
The air between us shifted.
And for a moment, I almost closed the space.
But I stepped back instead.
Because Garrick wasn't finished.
And I wasn't ready to be touched with love when I still burned with unfinished vengeance.
7
That night, the first council meeting of the new pack was held.
We called ourselves The Moon forged.
Not bound by bloodlines, but by choice.
Ronan offered intelligence: locations of Garrick's known safe houses. Names of Alphas who might still be loyal to him. Secrets too valuable to ignore.
I named Vessia as Beta.
Cailen as Commander.
And Ronan… as a scout.
Not because I trusted him.
But because I wanted to watch him prove himself.
8
After the meeting, as I walked alone beneath the trees, the night felt sharp with something unspoken.
Not fear.
But anticipation.
The war I thought I ended was only just beginning.
But this time, I wasn't someone's Luna.
I wasn't chained.
I wasn't silent.
I was the storm.
And Garrick would learn what happens when you turn a woman into a weapon and then expect her to stay quiet.
1
The scent hit me first.
Smoke. Leather. And a trace of lavender.
Not just any lavender.
My lavender.
The blend I once wore as Luna of Blackwater. A mixture Garrick demanded, claiming it made me smell like "obedience wrapped in silk."
My blood chilled.
The moment I stepped out of the strategy tent, I saw him standing at the edge of the ridge, his cloak flapping in the wind like he still belonged to something.
My brother.
Ronan.
I hadn't seen him in four years. Not since the night he left me to rot in Garrick's grasp, promising to come back.
He never did.
And now here he stood, looking older, broader, his once-boyish face hardened by distance and dirt and decisions I wasn't ready to forgive.
"Aurora," he said, as if my name was a spell that still worked on me.
I stared at him.
Then punched him across the face.
2
"You left me," I hissed, hand trembling from the strike.
He staggered but didn't retaliate. Just wiped the blood from his lip and looked at me with those same eyes storm-gray, like our mother's.
"I came back."
"Too late."
"I didn't have a choice."
"There's always a choice. You just didn't make me one."
The wind howled between us.
Then he said something that silenced it.
"He's alive."
My breath stilled.
"No," I whispered. "You're lying."
"I wish I was," Ronan said. "But Garrick isn't dead. The body burned wasn't his. It was a decoy. A soldier glamoured with dark magic. Garrick escaped two nights before the siege."
I felt the world tilt beneath me.
Because deep down, I had felt it.
The unfinished ending. The way his shadow still lingered, even in my dreams.
I'd just prayed it was grief.
Not prophecy.
3
Cailen was the first to demand answers.
"Why now? Why come crawling back to her with this?"
Ronan didn't flinch. "Because Garrick is rebuilding. South of the Hollow fang range. Quietly. With wolves who still believe he's their savior."
"And you?" I asked coldly. "What are you now? A spy? A coward with a guilty conscience?"
"I'm still your brother," he said. "Whether you want me or not."
"You don't get to decide that."
Silence fell.
Then Vessia stepped forward, studying Ronan like a wolf appraising a wounded deer.
"If what he says is true," she said, "then our Luna needs to decide if we're preparing for peace… or war."
I met her gaze.
And for the first time in days, I felt the fire return to my bones.
"If Garrick breathes," I said, "then peace was never an option."
4
That night, I sat alone by the fire outside my tent, the charm Kael gave me still clutched in my hand. The silver fang felt heavier than usual.
"Can I sit?" Ronan's voice was quieter now.
I didn't look up.
"Do what you want. You always have."
He sat anyway.
For a long time, we just listened to the fire crack.
"When I left," he began, "I was trying to gather allies. I knew Garrick would kill me if I stayed. I thought I could build a force strong enough to challenge him."
"You thought wrong."
"I know. But I never stopped looking for you. When I found what he'd done what he'd made you I couldn't breathe."
"You were my only family," I whispered. "And I died alone."
He didn't argue. Didn't try to fix it.
Just sat beside me, quiet and broken.
And maybe that was all I needed from him.
Not forgiveness.
But truth.
5
The next morning, I summoned the pack.
Under the rising sun, we gathered around the stone ring, where trials had been held, oaths sworn, and rogues judged.
Ronan stood beside me, silent, eyes on the crowd.
I raised my voice.
"Garrick is alive."
A ripple of shock surged through the gathered wolves. Some cursed. Some lowered their heads in dread. Others newer, angrier tightened their fists.
I continued.
"He hides beyond the southern ridge, gathering strength. But we do not cower. We do not run."
I turned, facing every face I had bled for.
"We rise."
"Rise," Vessia echoed.
Cailen stepped forward. "Then we take the fight to him?"
"No," I said. "Not yet."
Murmurs spread.
I lifted a hand.
"We need allies. We need our laws. Our land. If we strike now, we become what he was—mad with vengeance and blind to the cost."
I pointed at the carved banner hanging behind me: the silver wolf over black.
"We do not build empires on bone. We build a future that lasts."
And they listened.
Because they saw me not the caged Luna.
Not the victim.
But the Luna Reborn.
6
Later, Cailen approached me in the weapons tent, where I was oiling my blades. His expression was unreadable.
"You're holding back."
"I'm preparing."
He leaned against the post. "You're scared."
I looked up. "Aren't you?"
"Terrified."
We laughed softly tired, hollow but real.
Then he said, "You should know… I would follow you. Into war. Into ruin. Into anything."
My throat caught.
"I don't deserve that."
"You don't have to deserve it. You just have to want it."
The air between us shifted.
And for a moment, I almost closed the space.
But I stepped back instead.
Because Garrick wasn't finished.
And I wasn't ready to be touched with love when I still burned with unfinished vengeance.
7
That night, the first council meeting of the new pack was held.
We called ourselves The Moon forged.
Not bound by bloodlines, but by choice.
Ronan offered intelligence: locations of Garrick's known safe houses. Names of Alphas who might still be loyal to him. Secrets too valuable to ignore.
I named Vessia as Beta.
Cailen as Commander.
And Ronan… as a scout.
Not because I trusted him.
But because I wanted to watch him prove himself.
8
After the meeting, as I walked alone beneath the trees, the night felt sharp with something unspoken.
Not fear.
But anticipation.
The war I thought I ended was only just beginning.
But this time, I wasn't someone's Luna.
I wasn't chained.
I wasn't silent.
I was the storm.
And Garrick would learn what happens when you turn a woman into a weapon and then expect her to stay quiet.