Silverpine was silent. No one can spit out a single word after what just happened.
Not the fear of stillness—but the stillness after the fight, the licking of wounds and counting them, the earth drinking in blood and flames. That clearing, which had resounded with snarling and metal, rang with only the wind's rustle among leaves and the low rumble of voices. The clearing that had once echoed with snarls and steel now held only the rustle of wind through leaves are quiet as the still waves!
Mia sat on the infirmary steps, ribs taped, shoulder bandaged. The wound's sting had subsided, but the soreness in the bones had stuck.
Not from the battle, not from the fight—but from all this, for everything that has happened till now.
The decisions.
The marks.
The development. The scars. The growth.
Her wolf was weary, was tired but proud, curled deep inside her, settled deep within her, no longer fearful or agitated, restless or afraid.
She had battled alongside her pack.
Her body endured.
She survived.
And not as a mate, a burden, or a question mark.
Like herself, being her.
Footsteps came, steady and familiar. Closer to her! The smell she was aware of!
He sat beside her, his arm still in a sling, his jaw bruised, but his eyes shining brighter than she had seen them in weeks.
"They call it the Turning," he spoke softly, in a lovely but painful tune.
Mia glanced over. "The what?"
"The younger wolves. Those who had battled alongside us.
"Those who had seen you take a stand in the middle of that field," he smiled.
It's when you do not back down that they say things turn.
It's when the tide shifted."
Mia exhaled slowly. "I don't feel like a symbol."
"You're not," Lucas replied. "You're a reminder."
"Of what?"
He faced her, his eyes unflinching. "Change doesn't have to happen at the top."
They sat together for a moment in a silence that did not have to be broken.
Then Mia asked, "Viktor."
"Still in the holding cell. Elders want to try him."
And you?
Lucas shrugged, cautiously.
"I want to rebuild."
Mia raised an eyebrow.
"Just like that?"
"No,"
He admitted. "Not that way." There's a great deal that I have to earn back.
With the pack. With you."
She did not say anything.
Let him be with the truth.
Then she inquired,
"Do you still have that feeling?". Do you still feel for me like you always did?
He didn't need to ask what she meant.'
He nodded. "Yes." It's serene now. Quiet. But alive." Yes! The bond is alive."
Mia caressed her chest. "Me too."
Another pause. Another silence
He faced her, not with expectation, not with urgency, but with hope.
"I don't want to start where we left off again."
He replied. But I would rather start again.
Not because the moon instructed me. But because I want you specifically."
She gazed at him intently.
With that, she smiled. A smile of LOVE.
A genuine, gentle, truthful smile.
"Then walk beside me," she said, getting up and holding out a hand.
"Not in front. Not behind. Besides."
Lucas stood up and grasped her hand.
I can manage that. I can do that too. Mia!
____________________________________________________________________________________________________
Later at night, the pack assembled under the Moonstone Tree.
Not for a fight.
Not for a trial.
But for another reason.
Lucas emerged before the crowd, wearing no ceremonial armor, but a plain black t-shirt, rolled sleeves at his elbows. There were no speeches.
No proclamations. No declarations. No speeches!
Only a moment.
He turned to Mia and offered a carved token, a little piece of stone with both their house sigils carved into it.
Not a bond request.
Not a sign of dominance.
But a symbol.
Of unity. Of choice.
And Mia took it.
And the pack howled — not with protest, not with resistance, but with celebration.
For the first time, Alpha and the omega stood united, not out of necessity.
But because they had made that decision.
Not by choice.
But because they chose to.