The moon hung full and heavy in the sky, its silver light casting a glow over the sacred clearing where the mate bond ceremony took place every year. The pack had gathered, dressed in their best, their eyes alight with excitement. For most, this was a night of joy—a chance to meet their fated mate. For Aria, it was a night of dread.
She stood at the edge of the clearing, wrapped in a plain, tattered shawl that barely kept out the cold. Her stepsisters sparkled in silk and satin nearby, their sneers hidden behind sweet smiles.
"Try not to embarrass us tonight," hissed Lilith, the eldest stepsister, brushing past Aria with a flick of her silver-blonde hair. "As if anyone would want a wolfless slave."
Aria said nothing. She'd long since learned silence was her best defense. Her heart pounded in her chest—not from hope, but from fear. At eighteen, tonight was her first—and only—chance to discover a mate. And yet, no one believed she'd find one. She didn't shift. Didn't hear the pack bond. She was a freak. A mistake.
The Alpha's son, Damon, stood tall at the center of the circle. Broad-shouldered and handsome, he radiated confidence. Power clung to him like a second skin. He was everything she wasn't.
Then their eyes met.
A sudden force slammed into her chest like lightning. Her breath caught. Damon flinched. Gasps rippled through the crowd.
The mate bond.
It was real.
Aria stared at him, stunned. She had a mate. She wasn't wolfless after all. The Moon Goddess had chosen him—for her.
But the horror in Damon's eyes said everything.
He stepped forward, voice cold and loud enough for all to hear.
> "I, Damon Nightfall, reject you, Aria Blackthorn, as my mate."
The silence was deafening.
Aria's soul split in two. The bond snapped like a broken string inside her, leaving only emptiness. Some people gasped. Others laughed. Her stepmother smirked in satisfaction.
She fell to her knees.
Pain. Humiliation. Rage.
And then… something stirred inside her.
It was small at first—a flicker of heat in her veins. A whisper in her mind. The earth seemed to tilt. The air thickened. Even the moon above seemed to flicker.
Damon took a step back, uncertain.
Aria raised her head.
Her eyes glowed—not gold like a wolf's—but a strange, pulsing violet.
For a moment, no one moved.
Then a voice echoed in her mind, soft and ancient:
> "Child of three bloods… you are not forsaken. You are chosen."
And then everything went black.