The morning after the Moonlit Rite was anything but quiet. It began with the whispers, subtle but piercing. Lyra could hear them even before stepping out of her small house. The faint rustling of voices crept in through the walls, like shadows slipping under the door.
"Did you hear? The Alpha rejected her. Called her weak!"
"How humiliating. She'll never recover from this."
"Imagine being wolfless. She's nothing now."
Lyra's fingers trembled as she fastened her cloak, the fabric feeling heavier than usual. She glanced at herself in the cracked mirror by the doorway. Her pale face stared back at her, the dark circles under her eyes a testament to a sleepless night. No amount of adjusting her hair or smoothing her dress could hide the brokenness etched into her features.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped out into the village square.
It was worse than she had imagined.
The square was alive with morning activity—vendors selling wares, children running about, and wolves chatting about the latest gossip. But as soon as Lyra appeared, the lively chatter dimmed. Heads turned. Eyes locked onto her. Some were filled with pity, others with thinly veiled disgust.
A group of elders sitting near the fountain exchanged looks, their disapproval practically radiating off them.
"She doesn't belong here anymore," one of them muttered, just loud enough for her to hear. "The wolfless have no place in Lunaris."
Lyra's shoulders stiffened, but she forced herself to keep walking. Each step felt like trudging through quicksand. The weight of their gazes, their whispers, bore down on her, threatening to crush her completely.
"Morning, Lyra!" came a cheerful voice. For a brief moment, hope flickered in her chest. Mara.
But when Lyra turned to her friend, she saw the hesitation in Mara's eyes. The warmth in her voice had already faded, replaced with unease. Behind her, a group of young wolves stood watching, their smirks cruel. Mara gave Lyra a weak smile before quickly turning away, falling in line with the others.
The flicker of hope died.
---
By midday, the humiliation had reached its peak.
The pack had gathered for the Alpha's announcement, a tradition following the Moonlit Rite. Darius stood tall on the raised platform in the center of the square, his presence commanding as ever. Lyra lingered at the edge of the crowd, keeping her distance but unable to look away.
"I have chosen," Darius began, his deep voice carrying over the murmurs of the crowd, "to reject the bond revealed to me by the Moon."
A ripple of gasps and murmurs spread through the pack, though none of it was news. Lyra braced herself, already anticipating the sting of his next words.
"I will not allow weakness to taint the leadership of this pack. As your Alpha, I will choose a Luna who embodies strength, grace, and the qualities necessary to rule by my side."
The crowd erupted into applause, their loyalty to Darius unwavering. Lyra stood frozen, the words slicing through her like shards of ice.
Strength. Grace. Qualities she apparently lacked.
She wanted to scream, to shout at them all, but her voice felt trapped in her throat. Instead, she turned and walked away, each step faster than the last.
---
By the time she reached her small home, Lyra's chest was heaving with barely contained emotion. She slammed the door shut behind her, leaning against it as the first tear slipped down her cheek.
This wasn't just rejection. It was obliteration.
In Lunaris, strength and unity were everything. To be branded as "wolfless" was worse than death. It was a public declaration of worthlessness, a mark that would haunt her for the rest of her life.
Her knees gave out, and she sank to the floor. The room was small and cold, the walls bare save for a single faded tapestry. It had never felt lonelier.
The words of the crowd echoed in her mind. Weak. Unworthy. Wolfless.
For hours, she sat there, her thoughts a chaotic swirl of pain, anger, and despair. She thought of her parents, long gone, who had always told her she was destined for greatness. Of the dreams she'd nurtured of standing proudly by her mate's side. Of the life that had been ripped away from her in an instant.
But as the moon rose high into the night sky, something inside her began to shift. The tears dried on her cheeks, leaving behind a simmering anger.
It wasn't fair. None of it was.
What gave Darius the right to decide her worth? To strip her of her dreams and humiliate her in front of everyone she'd ever known? And what kind of pack turned its back on one of its own so easily?
Lyra's fingers clenched into fists. The anger grew, burning away the numbness that had paralyzed her.
She stood, her legs shaky but determined. Walking to the small window, she gazed out at the moonlit forest that surrounded Lunaris. The cursed forest, as they called it. A place of danger and mystery.
She had always been warned to stay away, but in that moment, she didn't care. She couldn't stay here, surrounded by judgment and whispers. She needed to get away, to clear her mind, to think.
With a determined breath, she grabbed her cloak and stepped into the night.
The forest loomed ahead, its shadows beckoning her like an old friend. And for the first time since the Moonlit Rite, Lyra felt something other than despair.
She felt purpose.