The sun rode high in the sky, yet did not touch her.
Selene lay across the corner of her old bed, against cold stone, knees to chest. The bed remained unbroken alongside her. Tangled sheets, but not shared. She hadn't slept since the dream.
The words reeled in her bones like some sickness that wouldn't pass.
You are not the only one reborn.
She'd sat up in bed gasping in the middle of the night, her heartbeat pounding like a war drum, the voice of the Moon Goddess coiled around her ribcage like a snake. The silver field, the creeping whirl of stars, the serene but dogged face of Selara—it hadn't been a dream. It'd seemed a warning.
A warning she didn't understand.
Selene stood, and her fingers trembled for an instant as she fastened her dark cloak over her shoulder. She stuck a dagger into her boot and slipped a smaller knife down her sleeve.
She left the room unnoticed.
But no longer was she in hiding.
She was stalking.
The sun was high in the air when Selene reached the aged southern path which meandered through the backwoods of Silvercrest holdings—a shortcut that had been used by the younger wolves for cutting into training late or into trouble early. The air was clean here, free from the taint of politics or memories. For a few moments, she walked in silence, by herself.
Until she wasn't.
A rustle of leaves. A crunch of underbrush. A scent she hadn't smelled in years—lavender and sorrow.
Selene turned slowly.
And froze.
"Elara," she said flatly.
Her former best friend stepped out from the trees like a ghost, her shoulders hunched, cloak patched and travel-worn. She looked older—more gaunt, more fragile—but her eyes were the same: pale green, always too wide, always too afraid.
"Selene," Elara whispered. "You're really… it's you."
Selene didn't move. "You have the nerve to show your face?"
"I—I shouldn't have come. I know. But I had to." Elara pulled on her hands. "I couldn't help but think about what I did—what I didn't do—when you needed me most."
"You watched and let them kill me," Selene stated. Her voice was calm. Hollowed out. "You watched and let them tear me apart. You didn't say anything. Didn't move. Not even a whisper.".
"I was afraid," Elara whispered, voice shaking. "I was warned… if I got in the way, I'd be killed too."
"I would have died for you," Selene said, taking a step forward. Her expression didn't shift, but her voice became raspy. "I would have fought them tooth and claw, Elara. I would have burned for you."
"I know," Elara wept, eyes filling with tears. "That's why I'm here now. Because I didn't. Because I let them win."
Selene stared at her, torn between anger and the memory of a thousand nights of girlhood spent whispering among the stars. She recalled seeing them—couchant in furs, snickering about mates, daring each other to pilfer wine from the cellar of the elders.
And she saw herself again, chained, bloodied, burning, and Elara frozen in the throng.
"What do you want?" she growled, low.
"I don't want anything," Elara replied quickly. "I just. I found something. Something I think you need to see."
Selene's eyes narrowed. "What?"
Elara thrust her hand into the cloak and pulled out a creased, yellowed piece of parchment bearing the seal of the ancient Council mark on it. Her fingers trembled as she held it out.
"I kept it. I don't even remember why. The evening of your sentencing… I was in the council chambers tidying up after the meeting. I discovered this. I didn't recognize what it was at the time, but…"
Selene unfolded it slowly, fingers following the wax seal.
The scent hit her first—parchment and something. Familiar. Power.
"I wanted to burn it after," Elara continued. "To destroy everything. But I couldn't. I think… I think you were meant to see it."
Selene stared at her for a long time. "Why now?"
"Because they're still lying," Elara said, voice tightening. "And because you're not the only one they want dead."
The wind picked up, whipping Elara's hair into her face. Her eyes were bloodshot from tears. No longer the coward of the crowd. Just a girl attempting to right something far too late.
Selene shoved the parchment into her cloak. "If this is a trick, I'll kill you."
"It's not," Elara said. "I swear on the bond we once shared."
Selene didn't answer. She turned and started down the path toward the council archives.
"Come with me," she said over her shoulder. "You're not done yet."
The entrance to the council archives was hidden beneath the east wing of the old Pack Hall—a place forbidden to anyone without rank, sealed with both magic and memory.
But Selene didn't care.
Not anymore.
She glided through the stone corridor like a spirit, Elara following close behind, their steps quieted by moss-covered stone. The flickering torchlight danced across old wolf murals—symbols of power, once, now scornful shadows.
The further in they went, the chillier it became.
"I shouldn't be here," Elara said softly, folding her arms over herself as they approached a rusted iron gate. "This place is—"
"Constructed on lies," Selene concluded. "As is everything else here."
The gate was surrounded by an old ward of magic, silver runes that glowed with feeble light. She couldn't have touched it with her bare skin without searing pain where she used to live. But now?
Now she was changed.
Selene rested her hand against the gate.
The runes flared to life—but instead of burning, they bent. As if they recognized her. As if they recognized that their time had come and gone.
The seal cracked sharply with a savage metallic sound and the door creaked open.
Elara stared at her. "How did you—?"
Selene didn't speak. She had no words for what coiled under her skin now—power that pulsed in her veins, access to something much older than pack law.
Elara stepped further into the side room she recalled—one that was primarily for private in-house records.
Selene lagged her pulse calm, cooled by concentration.
They found the drawer shut, as Elara had said.
Selene didn't think. She drew her blade, passed the edge of the blade over the time-worn latch, and uttered a word she didn't know she knew.
The lock was released.
There were stacks of folded paper within, many sealed. But one lay toward the top—older, with frayed edges, and a broken council seal.
The parchment Elara had handed her was the same.
Selene shoved the drawer further open and pulled the oldest of the decrees into the light.
Her name was scribbled across the top in bold black ink.
Selene Blackwood – Conviction for Treason. Execution Order.
And there it was.
A signature.
Not Kael's.
Elder Morwen.
The mark was clear. Sealed in blood. Twined with a second signature.
Luna Adrienne.
For a moment, she couldn't breathe.
Her knees gave way, but she caught herself on the rim of the drawer.
Elara stepped forward shakily. "You see it too, don't you?"
Selene nodded once, her jaw clamped so tightly her teeth ached.
"She framed me," she whispered. "She wanted me gone."
"She envied your role," Elara said to him. "She always sneered at you as if she hated how easy you made everything look. She never said it, but…" I saw it."
Selene's eyes boiled.
She'd spent every waking second since her resurrection developing rage against Kael—against the mate who'd thrown her to the wolves and done nothing as she died.
And now she knew—
He hadn't killed her.
He'd been lied to.
He'd failed her, yeah. Failed to keep her safe. Failed to notice her. But the blade hadn't been in his palm.
It'd been in hers.
Adrienne.
And Elder Morwen had signed for it.
Why?
Selene's fingers trembled as she clutched the parchment. "Why would Morwen approve this?"
"He was afraid of you," Elara breathed. "They all were. You were bound to Kael. You were a future Luna. And you were… powerful. More than you even knew."
Selene shook her head. "Powerful enough to save them, no."
"But maybe powerful enough to scare them."
They hadn't just wanted her dead.
They'd wanted the truth buried with her.
Selene pushed the document into her cloak.
She stared at Elara, eyes as cold as steel. "You speak not of this. Not even Kael."
Elara swallowed. "But he—"
"Let him rot," Selene said icily. "As I did."
Then, softer, "I'll decide when he hears the truth."
"Selene…" Elara stepped forward. "I want to help. Whatever this is going to be, I want to do something right."
Selene nodded once. "Then shut your mouth. And keep your eyes open."
They left the archives in silence, their path lit by nothing but outrage and reality.
The wind had shifted by the time Selene returned to her room.
Her expression was calm but calm before the storm. Her eyes were icy with the realization that the enemy wasn't who she thought she was. That revenge, in its purest form, wasn't fire nor rage.
It was about accuracy.
"I've been fleeing the wrong ghosts," she breathed, voice low and deadly. "And they've laughed while I've bled."
Kael's face flashed in her mind.
The way he'd looked at her. Pleaded. Repented. Thought he deserved another chance.
And maybe he did.
But that didn't make her owe him one.
Selene stepped back from the mirror and filled the basin with water, washing the grime and dust of the archive from her skin. Rubbing her hands, she scowled at the streaks of dirt bleeding into the water. She imagined it as the past washing away.
But no matter how she scrubbed, it never really left.
She wore again—not in mourning black or ceremonial grey, but in wine red rich as the blood of kings. A war colour. A sovereignty colour.
Let the pack gossip about her changes. Let them wonder if she was cursed or blessed by the Goddess. She wasn't here to try to persuade anyone anymore.
She was here to rewrite the ending.
The pack would meet tomorrow in the council chamber for the annual Moon Circle—a ceremony as ancient as the earth where injustices were aired and decisions whispered under holy oaths. A dais decked out like a sacrament.
She'd stand in it aware of what they'd done to her.
Aware of whose fingers ha
d signed her death behind the door.
And she'd not shout. Not burn.
She'd observe.
She'd bide.
And she'd make them think they were safe.
For wolves like Elder Morwen did not fear fire—they feared stillness.
And hers was finished.