Iva woke to the sharp, merciless ring of her alarm at four in the morning, the sound drilling through the quiet darkness of her room, and for a brief, foolish second she wished she could slam the pillow over her head and pretend she wasn’t the Gamma’s daughter, pretend she wasn’t expected to be the first one training, pretend she wasn’t the constant disappointment her father treated like an unavoidable burden. “Come on, Iva, move,” she told herself as she swung her legs out of bed, blinking against the cold air that nipped at her b**e arms. “It’s not like lying here will magically make him proud of you.” She dressed quickly—black leggings, a snug training shirt, and boots that had seen too many brutal mornings—and tied her long ash-brown hair into a high ponytail, strands slipping loose around her gentle face. Her skin held that faint silvery undertone common among their pack, and her warm hazel eyes still carried the softness she tried so hard to hide, because softness was not a trait respected among warriors, especially not among those expected to lead. She didn’t have her wolf yet—no eighteen-year-old did until the night of their birthday—but recently she had felt a strange pressure under her skin, a restless anticipation that made her wonder if her wolf would be calm or fierce, gentle or wild, or maybe, she thought on her worst days, maybe her wolf would be just as disappointing to her father as she was. “Don’t think about that,” she scolded herself gently as she slipped out of the house and into the cool predawn air, moving with a speed she hoped would push her thoughts away. “You’re doing your best. One day he’ll see that. Maybe.” The training grounds sprawled behind the pack’s main buildings, lit by harsh floodlights that cast long shadows across the dirt. The Silvercrest Pack was one of the most powerful in the region, respected for its size and feared for its warriors, and their Alpha’s lineage had ruled these lands for generations with iron strength and unwavering discipline. Iva spotted her father immediately—Gamma Rhys, a tall and imposing figure with arms crossed firmly behind his back, dark hair touched with silver at the temples, and a gaze that could make even seasoned fighters straighten without thinking. She approached quietly, her heart tightening with the familiar mix of hope and dread. “Morning, Father,” she said softly. He barely flicked his eyes toward her, offering the smallest nod before turning away as if acknowledging her more than that might embarrass him. “Right… same as always,” she thought, swallowing the sting. “Why did you even try?” Training was relentless, her muscles screaming as she pushed herself past exhaustion, throwing punches and blocking strikes with a determination that tasted like desperation. She kept waiting for a single word of approval from her father, even a small one, but he corrected her stance again and again with clipped, cold instructions that carried no warmth at all. By sunrise she was trembling from fatigue, though she hid it well, because weakness was simply not allowed—not by her father, not by the standards of the pack. She rushed to the showers the moment training ended, letting hot water cascade down her aching body, and she exhaled slowly, wishing the water could wash the heaviness from her chest. “Only a few more weeks,” she reminded herself as she dressed in jeans and a white sweater for school. “Finish high school, get your wolf, survive your birthday, and maybe things will finally change.” When she stepped off the pack’s school van, the courtyard was loud with chatter, and her eyes found him immediately, her childhood crush, —Nick Blackthorn, the future Alpha King, surrounded by a cluster of girls near the fountain. He looked effortlessly commanding, even in plain clothes, with his dark tousled hair, sharp jawline, and storm-blue eyes that seemed to draw attention without even trying. The girls around him laughed at everything he said, clinging to his words like they were a privilege and not simply sound in the air. Gathering her courage, Iva walked past and offered a polite smile. “Good morning, Nick.” He didn’t look at her, didn’t nod, didn’t offer the barest acknowledgment that she existed, except in the official settings when she was with her family. One of the girls shot Iva a smirk, whispering something behind her manicured hand, and the other girls giggled in that sharp way that made Iva feel smaller than she wanted to admit. “Why do you keep trying with him?” she asked herself bitterly as she walked away. “He’s never seen you. He never will.” Classes dragged painfully throughout the morning, each minute feeling stretched and heavy, but she was saved—as always—by the one bright spot in her life. Lori slid into her seat beside her, hair in a messy bun, eyes sparkling with mischief, and a grin that could make any day bearable. “Please tell me we can get through history without me falling asleep on your shoulder again,” Lori whispered dramatically. “We can try,” Iva laughed, feeling warmth spread through her chest. “No promises.” Lori nudged her and whispered jokes and gossip through most of the class, and for a little while Iva forgot the sting of Nick’s coldness, forgot her father’s silence, forgot the weight of being almost eighteen with no idea who she truly was yet or what she will do in the future. But every time her thoughts drifted, she felt that strange inner pull again, that faint stirring under her skin that whispered that everything—absolutely everything—was about to change. -- The cafeteria buzzed with noise when Iva and Lori settled at their usual table by the wide windows, the sunlight pouring in a little too brightly as if trying to force cheerfulness on a room filled with gossip, cliques, and the constant shuffling of wolves pretending they weren’t stressed about graduation. Lori unpacked her salad and medical anatomy notes at the same time, multitasking like always, while Iva poked at her food with absent interest, her gaze wandering over the crowd. Lori, the pack doctor’s daughter, had already started preparing to apply to medical schools, her dreams as sharp and focused as her mind, and she lifted her eyes from her notes with a soft sigh. “So… have you thought about where you want to apply? Or what you want to study? Because deadlines are crawling closer, and you know the Academies doesn’t wait for anyone.” Iva shook her head slowly, twisting her fork between her fingers as the familiar heaviness settled over her shoulders. “I tried talking to my mom about it,” she murmured, “and she said she supports me in whatever I choose, but we both know the decisive factor isn’t her.” The bitterness slipped through her voice despite her effort to keep it soft. “I tried speaking with my father too… but you know how my father likes to ignore or criticize me no matter how carefully I choose my words.” Lori frowned, leaning forward as her eyes narrowed in frustration. “What did he say this time?” Iva let out a small, humorless laugh. “When I brought up the idea of college, he just scoffed. Literally scoffed. He said it would be ‘a waste of money’ and then walked off without giving me even one piece of real feedback.” She shrugged weakly. “So… that’s where I am.” “That’s not just unfair,” Lori muttered, stabbing her fork into her salad with unnecessary force, “it’s completely stupid. You are smart and dedicated, you have good grades. You need to start applying already, Iva. And you don’t even know if your family will support you or not—how are you supposed to plan anything like this?” “I know,” Iva whispered, exhaling a long breath that deflated her chest, and the moment she looked up, her eyes landed—unwillingly—on Nick across the cafeteria. He stood with his usual circle of admirers, laughing about something, his posture relaxed and confident in that way he had since childhood, the posture of someone who was raised knowing he would lead entire packs someday. Something inside her tightened. Why him? Why always him? Lori followed her gaze and g*****d. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re staring at him again. Iva, come on. You tried already…” “I’m not staring,” Iva muttered defensively, though her eyes lingered anyway. “I’m just… looking.” “Same thing.” Iva wanted to look away, but her memories made her chest ache. She remembered last year—how much courage it took to walk up to him, how her hands shook even though she tried to hide it, how her voice cracked as she confessed the feelings she’d been holding since childhood. She remembered the shock on his face that shifted into amusement, vicious amusement, and the way he laughed in front of everyone. Ironboard. The word still burned under her skin, as bad as his rejection and mockery. He had said it with a smirk, like her athletic body—built from years of hard training—was something to mock, just because her chest hadn’t developed like the other girls’. While they bloomed early, she remained a late bloomer, flat in all the ways that teenage wolves judged harshest. Another reason for disappointment, she thought bitterly, wishing the memory didn’t still sting the way it did. Lori reached across the table and squeezed her hand gently. “Iva… forget about him. Seriously. Yes, he’s the future Alpha, but he’s also kind of an a**e. Actually, no ‘kind of’—he’s a complete a**e.” Iva snorted softly. “Maybe… but he’s an a**e who will attend the military werewolf academy next year—while I don’t even know if I’ll be allowed to go anywhere.” “So apply,” Lori said firmly, her voice leaving no room for doubt. “Apply anyway. Just in case your father—Gamma Rhys, the king of emotional constipation—finally decides to pull his head out of his backside and lets you chase your dreams.” Iva blinked, then laughed despite the ache in her chest. “Lori…” “I’m right and you know it. At least give yourself the chance, Iva. Give yourself options.” Iva hesitated, staring down at her tray before nodding slowly. “Okay… maybe you’re right. I’ll… I’ll apply, just in case.” Though deep down, a quiet voice whispered that hope was dangerous, especially for someone like her. Lori smiled triumphantly and returned to her notes, while Iva tried to focus on her food, though her eyes drifted once more toward Nick—beautiful, cruel, untouchable Nick—and she wondered if he would ever look at her with anything other than annoyance or mocking amusement. She doubted it.

When Iva returned home from school, tired from training, classes, and the weight of thoughts she didn’t dare voice, the front door opened before she even reached for the handle, and her mother, Rana, appeared with that familiar soft smile that always made the world feel slightly less cruel. “Iva, sweetheart, you’re home,” Rana said warmly, pulling her into a gentle hug that smelled faintly of jasmine and the herbal oils she used at the pack infirmary. “You look exhausted. Long day?” “You could say that,” Iva murmured into her shoulder, letting herself soak in the comfort for a moment before they stepped inside. Rana had always been her safe place, a warmth that tried—silently, relentlessly—to compensate for her father’s coldness. It wasn’t that her mother didn’t love her mate; she did, fiercely and loyally, but she loved Iva just as strongly, and sometimes that love seemed to stretch her too thin, caught between the duty of a mate and the heart of a mother. They sat in the kitchen, Rana slicing vegetables for dinner while Iva perched on a stool, dropping her backpack to the floor with a thud. “You’re thinking again,” Rana said softly without turning around, her hands moving gracefully over the cutting board. “I can always tell.” “Just school things,” Iva said, though her voice betrayed more. Rana paused, glanced over her shoulder, and the gentle lines around her eyes tightened with concern. “Did something happen?” Iva hesitated, her fingers tracing the edge of the table before she finally spoke. “Lori’s already applying to medical schools… Everyone’s planning their futures and I… don’t even know if I’ll be allowed to go anywhere.” Rana exhaled slowly, as if the weight of that truth pressed on her heart too. “Iva…” “I talked to you about it,” Iva said quietly, “and you said you supported me, but that Dad’s opinion would be the deciding factor. And when I tried speaking to him…” She let out a shaky laugh that held no humor. “He barely listened. He just scoffed, said college was a waste of money, and walked away.” Rana’s jaw clenched, a rare flash of resentment crossing her normally serene face. “Your father can be… stubborn,” she said carefully, though her eyes were filled with apology. “But I promise you, I will try again. You deserve options, Iva. You deserve a future you choose for yourself.” “I don’t know if the Moon Goddess agrees, otherwise I would have been a boy who could become the next Gamma… but instead… it is just…me,” Iva whispered. Rana set down the knife and turned fully, leaning against the counter with a sigh. “Oh, sweetheart… that’s not what this is.” But it was hard not to think that way. Hard not to feel punished. Because Rana and Rhys, like many chosen couples, had only one child. That was the silent curse the Moon Goddess had cast upon them decades ago—chosen mates would bear only a single offspring, no matter how deeply they loved each other or how desperately they tried for more. It was the Goddess’s way of punishing their kind for abandoning their roots, for drifting too close to the human world, for ignoring sacred traditions. Only fated mates, blessed pairs united by destiny itself, could still have large, thriving families. The children of such unions were extraordinary—superior in strength, enhanced in abilities, their wolves fiercer, faster, sharper. They were called the Elites, the highest echelon of werewolf kind, and every pack wanted more of them. But finding one’s fated mate had become nearly impossible… or a matter of pure luck. The Goddess had taken away the sacred ability to recognize a fated mate on sight. Now it was blind luck… or divine intervention. “Sometimes,” Iva murmured, “I wish fated mates weren’t so rare. Maybe Dad would have loved me differently if I’d been born a boy or had a brother.” Rana crossed the room and cupped her daughter’s cheeks gently. “Don’t you ever think that. You are enough, Iva. More than enough.” Iva offered a small, fragile smile, though her chest still ached. Because the truth was harsher. Fated mates weren’t only rare—they were nearly myth. And the last known way to reliably find them had just vanished from the world. The Messenger. A single werewolf blessed by the Moon Goddess every few decades with the uncanny ability to sense who belonged with whom. They could feel the thread of destiny between wolves, a gift so precious that every pack hunted for them the moment rumors of one surfaced. A Messenger meant more fated couples. More Elites. More offspring. More power. The last Messenger had died a year ago, and since the Moon Goddess allowed only one at a time to exist, everyone was waiting—breathlessly—for the next one to appear. And when they did, the entire world would fight tooth and claw to claim them. Iva looked down at her hands. “Mom… do you think the next Messenger is already out there?” Rana brushed a stray strand of hair behind Iva’s ear. “Perhaps. The Goddess always chooses when the world needs one most. But they will not remain hidden forever.” -- Time seemed to slip through Iva’s fingers like smoke, a blur of schoolwork and helping her mother with minor errands, and before she even realized it, the words fell from Rana’s l**s like a judgment she had been dreading. “Iva… you need to prepare yourself,” her mother said softly. “Tonight, we’re invited to dinner with the Alpha’s family.” Iva froze, her fork h******g above the plate, her heart suddenly thumping so hard it seemed to echo through her entire chest. Dinner at the Alpha’s house. Nick. Again. Her stomach churned at the thought, a mixture of dread, anticipation, and that old, familiar ache that had never quite left her since last year. Before, their relationship had been cold but cordial—distance maintained by respect, unspoken rules, and the boundaries of rank—in the end she was the Gamma’s daughter, but since she had confessed her feelings, everything had changed. Nick ignored or mocked at school; he smirked, an infuriating expression of superiority that made her blood simmer. Every word she had spoken, every brave syllable of confession, had fed his ego like fuel to fire. If only I had kept my mouth shut, she thought bitterly, recalling Lori’s warnings. “Nick may have charm, but he’s vain, proud, and arrogant,” her best friend had said. “Just don’t give him reason to laugh at you, Iva.” But she had not listened, and now she would have to stand the consequences. By eight o’clock, they arrived at the Alpha’s sprawling house, a mansion built more like a fortress, with grand stone pillars and the kind of carefully manicured gardens that spoke of centuries of wealth and power. Iva’s stomach twisted as she stepped inside, aware of the silent eyes that seemed to follow her every move, the low murmur of conversation that paused and resumed at her arrival, and the subtle tension that always accompanied any member of the Gamma’s family when visiting the Alpha. She sat down quietly, careful to remain composed, but her heart stung like ice when she saw Nick across the table, laughing lightly at something whispered by Ella, the Beta’s daughter. He leaned just enough to brush her hand casually, the easy charm in his movements setting a knife of envy deep in Iva’s chest. They were flirting, just lightly, but enough to make every nerve in her body tense. Everyone around them seemed to notice. The gossip had been rampant for months: Nick was supposed to choose his fated mate soon, and the Alpha and Beta families’ children were the most obvious candidates. Even the Beta had hinted publicly that their offspring were close, that it would be convenient for the pack if the next heir’s mate came from their inner circle. But tonight the Alpha, towering and imposing in his usual air of authority, cleared his throat, commanding the attention of everyone in the room. “You all know the situation,” he said, his voice deep and steady. “To maintain our influence and ensure the survival of our kind, it will not be enough to rely on tradition alone. Finding Nick’s fated mate or the next Messenger is crucial.” The room fell silent. Even the omegas stopped moving for a heartbeat. “The last reports are troubling,” the Alpha continued, his piercing gaze sweeping across every face at the table. “Our pack population is declining. Each chosen couple produces only a single pup. That is not enough to sustain power in a world where strength, lineage, and fated bonds decide our standing.” He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. Iva’s fingers tightened around her napkin, her heart hammering, sensing that something monumental was being said. “For the moment,” he said slowly, his eyes lingering on each pack representative, “we remain influential. But the appearance of the next Messenger—and the choice of pack they make—will be the factor that reshapes the entire hierarchy of werewolves. We need to secure its presence in our pack, this is imperative.” A low murmur ran through the room. Heads turned to one another, whispers exchanged across plates and wine glasses. The implication was clear: the Messenger would decide the fates of every pack. The weight of the unseen power pressed down on Iva, making her pulse quicken. Her eyes, almost without her will, drifted to Nick again, who laughed lightly at Ella’s joke, oblivious to the storm of destiny gathering around them. And Iva had no idea that the world was about to turn, and that the Messenger—the one wolf capable of seeing fated bonds—might be closer than anyone dared imagine.

When Iva returned home that night, the house felt unusually quiet, as if the walls themselves were waiting for her to speak, to challenge the invisible weight that had been pressing on her all day. She let out a long, shaky breath, trying to calm the storm inside her chest before approaching her father. Gamma Rhys was in the study, sitting behind the massive oak desk that seemed to grow taller with each year, papers and training reports scattered across its surface. He looked up as she entered, eyes sharp and calculating, a look that could cut through even the most confident wolf. “I… Father,” Iva began, her voice small but determined, “I need to ask you about college. I need to send in my applications, but I can’t do it without knowing whether you support me.” She swallowed and continued, carefully reciting the speech she had practiced over and over in her head. “I’ve thought about this for months. I’ve worked hard, trained harder, and done everything I could to prove myself worthy. I just… I need your decision.” Her father leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest, his gaze fixed on her as though weighing every word. Finally, he spoke, his voice calm, dangerous in its stillness. “And… where exactly do you want to apply?” For a heartbeat, Iva froze. His question felt like a trap, a weight pressing her words down into her chest. Then, in a whisper, she said, “Lycan Academy.” For a long moment, her father said nothing. Then, unexpectedly, he laughed. A low, humorless sound that made her stomach clench. The laughter continued, sharp and mocking, until finally he stopped, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. “Now… leave the jokes aside,” he said, his voice colder, sharper. Iva’s throat tightened, but she forced herself to continue, louder this time. “Lycan Academy, Father.” His dark eyes bore into her, and his next words cut deeper than any strike she had taken during training. “They accept only the Elites… and Lycans, of course.” Her jaw dropped slightly, but she refused to look down. “There are… other exceptions as well,” she whispered. “For certain fields. My friend, Lori, she applied for their medical school, and she’s not—” Her father snorted, cutting her off with a puff of ironic laughter. “Because her maternal grandparents are part of the Elites,” he said, his words laced with disdain. “And she will attend the medical school. That’s one of the few specialties where exceptions are allowed. Unless, of course, you intend to follow the medical field as well… which I highly doubt, given your … abilities.” Iva’s head fell, the words choking her, the unfairness of it pressing against her chest. “No… Father…” she whispered, almost inaudible. He scoffed and leaned back, dismissing her entirely, cutting the discussion short with the finality of a slammed iron gate. “Even if, by some miracle, you get accepted,” he said, voice hard as stone, “I would never allow you to attend it. Not to embarrass the family.” Her chest tightened, and a storm of anger and hurt flared inside her. Tears threatened to spill, but something deeper than sorrow snapped inside her, a spark that had been smoldering for years. “I… I am not allowed… because I am a girl?” she asked, voice trembling but rising with every word. Her father’s eyes blazed. “How dare you speak back to me—” But she didn’t stop. For the first time, she refused to be small. “I did not choose to be born a girl, Father! And I have the right to fight for my future!” For a brief, heart-stopping moment, the room was silent. Iva thought she had finally reached him. Then, as if reality itself was crushing her, he leaned forward, his voice lowering with cold, calculated cruelty. “Your only use,” he said, every word a hammer, “is to bring a good alliance for the pack—through a good chosen mate—and convince him to move here, considering our declining population.” Iva froze, her stomach twisting violently, her mind reeling. This was the first time anyone had ever spoken about her future pairing as if it were her duty, her obligation, not her choice. Her eyes filled with tears she could not stop, and the room seemed to tilt around her as the weight of her father’s words sank deep into her bones. The reality slammed into her like ice. For him, for the pack, for tradition, she had never been allowed to be herself. She had never been allowed to dream. And now, her life, her future, and the choices that belonged to her alone were already being decided by someone else—before she even had a chance to live them. -- Iva stumbled from the study, each step heavy as if the floor beneath her had turned to lead. Her father’s words echoed relentlessly in her mind, pounding her chest like an iron drum: “Your only use is to bring a good alliance for the pack… convince your chosen mate to move here.” She shut herself in her room and leaned against the door, sliding slowly to the floor. Tears came unbidden, wet and hot, burning the back of her throat as years of silent frustration and longing poured out in a flood. All those mornings before the training grounds, all the whispered hopes that one day her father might see her worth, all the careful attempts to carve her own place in a world that seemed determined to crush her… it felt pointless, meaningless. “I didn’t choose this!” she whispered into the empty room, her voice trembling, breaking with anguish. “I didn’t choose to be born a girl! I didn’t choose any of this!” Her hands shook as she clutched her knees to her chest, pressing her face against them to hide the tears that fell freely. The ache in her heart was sharp, a raw, jagged thing she could not ignore. She had trained, studied, sacrificed herself to be strong, to be capable, and yet… none of it mattered. None of it changed the truth her father believed: that she existed for the pack and for some imagined future she had no say in. Her mother’s gentle voice broke through the haze of pain before she even realized Rana was at her door. “Iva…” Rana entered the room and knelt beside her, her hands warm against Iva’s cold arms. “I know, my love. I know what he said. I hear you. I understand.” Iva shook her head violently, pushing herself against her mother, desperate for comfort and unwilling to admit how small and fragile she felt. “No… you don’t. You don’t know… He… he doesn’t see me. Not really. Not ever. I’ve been… nothing to him. I know that he resents me because his legacy will die with me as I am not the boy heir to carry further his name and rank.” Rana’s hands cupped her face, tilting it gently so their eyes met. “You are everything to me,” she said, her voice cracking with her own restrained emotion. “But Iva… your father… he’s never going to understand your heart the way I do. He sees only strength and duty, lineage and legacy. That’s his world. Not yours.” Iva’s tears fell faster now, soaking her hands as she tried to speak but only caught in sobs. “And my future… my dreams… my choices… they’re not even mine. He wants to decide… my mate… my life… all of it!” Rana hugged her tightly, the warmth a fragile shield against the cold fury that had taken root inside Iva. “I know,” she whispered. “And I’m so sorry. I wish it could be different. I wish you could live without the chains he’s trying to place on you. I wish I could change him, but I can’t. All I can do is stand by you… but the pack needs everyone’s support more than ever. The declining numbers of our pack and worse than ever. I spoke with Luna and she confirmed that we need a miracle to keep our current pack ranking position considering the situation.” Iva buried her face in her mother’s shoulder, the mixture of rage, heartbreak, and helplessness threatening to crush her. Iva’s gaze lifted slowly, tear-streaked and swollen, meeting her mother’s with the faintest glimmer of defiance. Something stirred inside her, fragile but insistent: a spark that had been smothered under years of disappointment and cruel expectations. “I… I will fight,” she whispered, almost to herself. “Even if he never sees me as I am… even if everyone expects me to be nothing but a pawn. I will fight. My future… my life… my choice… I will not let him take it from me.” Rana nodded, her own eyes glistening, pressing a k**s to the top of Iva’s head. “Oh, Iva,” she said. Iva sank into the quiet of her room, tears still falling, but beneath the heartbreak, beneath the pain, something fierce and unyielding began to rise. She didn’t yet know how or when, but she could feel it—a pulse in her chest, a whisper in her bones, a promise of something larger, something waiting for her. And though she felt broken, small, and powerless now, a seed of defiance had taken root. One day, she promised herself, she would stand, not as the Gamma’s daughter, not as anyone’s pawn, but as herself. And no one—not even her father—would decide her future again.

In the days that followed, Iva retreated into a quiet routine, the world outside her room a blur as she focused on something that felt almost dangerous: her future. She spread brochures across her desk, folding and unfolding them as if the paper could somehow give her courage, flipping through descriptions of colleges, programs, and courses that had once seemed completely out of reach. She traced her finger along the words of Lycan Academy, imagining herself walking through the grand halls, training, learning, becoming something beyond the small, controlled life her father or the pack had designed for her. Each program she read offered a possibility, a sliver of hope, and yet each glance at her father’s dismissive face in her memory reminded her that hope came at a price. Lori appeared one afternoon, dropping into the chair beside her with a grin that didn’t quite mask her worry. “So… you really are thinking about sending applications?” she asked. Iva hesitated, fingers tightening around a brochure. “Yes… I’ve decided to take your advice. I… I need to try, even if he doesn’t approve.” Lori’s expression grew serious. “Even if you do, Iva… what could go wrong? What if your father changes his mind? He could—” “I don’t think so,” Iva replied quickly, the words more a shield than a conviction. But you never know… she thought bitterly. The memory of his scorn, his harsh laughter, the iron weight of his disapproval still burned in her chest. Still, despite the gnawing fear, she began gathering the forms, filling out her information carefully, quietly, methodically. Each signature, each word typed felt like a rebellion in itself, a small victory against the life she had been handed. She sent the application to Lycan Academy in secret, a quiet act of defiance that thrilled and terrified her in equal measure. She didn’t have the extraordinary mind or the exceptional skills to follow in Lori’s footsteps into medicine, nor could she aspire to the top specialties that the Elites so proudly occupied—management, banking, investment, or the financial sectors that were the envy of most ambitious wolves. But she had something else: determination, careful thought, and a sense that even the smallest roles could be crucial if approached correctly. She settled on administration—a field considered too mundane, too “unprestigious” for the majority of the Elites. It was safe, practical, and would allow her to carve a place for herself without relying on her father’s favor. And for now, it was enough. Lori leaned back, watching her friend in silence for a long moment. “You’re really going through with this, aren’t you?” she said softly. Iva nodded, pressing her hands against the table, her heart pounding. “I have to. Even if he never agrees… even if the pack never respects it… I can’t do nothing anymore. I won’t.” It was a quiet declaration, almost lost among the papers and brochures, yet somehow, in the small sanctuary of her room, it felt like the first spark of fire she had felt in years. A fire that refused to be tamed by her father, by tradition, or by the pack’s expectations. And deep down, Iva felt a strange, fluttering certainty—something she couldn’t explain, something more than hope—that life was about to demand more from her than she had ever imagined. Something that might change everything. -- A few days before her birthday, Iva sat on her bed with Lori perched on the edge, flipping through a small notebook of sketches and notes the two had been keeping for years. The sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, making the room feel warmer, calmer—though the heat bubbling inside Iva suggested otherwise. “So… what are you going to do for your birthday?” Lori asked casually, though her eyes were bright with curiosity. “Any big plans? A party? Gifts? You’ll finally get to meet your wolf?” Iva shook her head, forcing a small smile. “Nothing special,” she murmured, though her chest skipped a beat at the thought. The words sounded flat even to her own ears. “You’re lying,” Lori said, grinning knowingly. “You’re excited. I can see it in your eyes. You’re thrilled to finally meet your wolf, aren’t you?” Iva’s smile softened, the excitement she had tried to contain slipping out despite herself. “I am… I can’t lie, Lori. I am. It’s… it’s just…” Her voice faltered as she struggled to put into words the strange combination of fear and anticipation that had been coiling inside her for weeks. “…it’s terrifying too.” “Of course it is,” Lori said gently, her gaze warm. “It’s a big deal, Iva. Eighteen. Passage to adulthood. You get your wolf—your companion for life. It’s not just tradition. It’s… it’s magic.” Iva nodded, closing her eyes briefly. She remembered vividly the first time she had seen Lori’s wolf, how her friend’s entire being had changed, a lightness, a joy that seemed impossible to contain. The bond had been immediate, undeniable, and seeing it had made Iva ache with longing for her own companion. Later, that evening, her mother came into her room, carrying a small tray with tea and a few pastries. Her eyes were kind, soft, and a little wistful. “Iva,” Rana said, brushing a stray strand of hair from her daughter’s face, “have you thought about what you want to do for your birthday? I can make it special if you like.” Iva shook her head again, but this time her voice was quieter, almost a whisper. “Nothing… special mom.” As the words left her mouth, a strange feeling twisted in her stomach—a subtle, unsettling tingle she couldn’t place. It was more than nervousness, more than the usual excitement of a birthday. Her skin felt hot, her body restless, a thrumming pulse running through her veins that made it impossible to stay still. After her mother left, she shifted on her bed, pressing her hands to her t****s as she whispered to herself, almost in fear. “It’s happening… isn’t it? The signs…” She swallowed hard, trying to steady herself, the thought of the wolf she would meet filling her with both wonder and anxiety. “I hope… I hope my wolf will not be disappointed in me,” she whispered, her voice trembling. -- The day of her birthday at school passed like dragging chains across stone. Each hour felt heavier than the last, a slow torture of lectures, whispers, and stifled laughter. Iva tried to keep her head down, but the Beta’s daughter, Ella, made it impossible, trailing her with sharp comments and cruel smiles, while the jocks—led by Nick—mocked her relentlessly, tossing snide remarks about her flat chest and quiet demeanor. She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to walk straight, to not react, but the humiliation pressed down on her like a physical weight, and she could feel the sting of every word against her pride. It was only Lori who made the day bearable. In the empty courtyard between classes, she handed Iva a small, carefully wrapped box. “Happy early birthday,” she said softly, a sly grin playing on her l**s. “You deserve something good after today.” Iva opened it to find a delicate gold pendant in the shape of a wolf, finely etched with intricate markings that seemed to shimmer slightly in the sunlight. Her chest tightened with gratitude. “Thank you, Lori… really, but is too much…” she whispered, touching the pendant, feeling as though her friend’s faith in her was tangible. By the time she returned home, the shadows were long and the sky painted with the muted gold of evening. Her mother awaited her, smiling softly, holding a small cake decorated with simple candles. “Happy Birthday, Iva,” Rana said, her voice gentle and proud. “I hope this year brings you what you wish for… and more.” Iva smiled faintly, hiding the swirl of nerves and excitement building in her chest. She lingered just a moment before changing into a light summer dress, letting the soft fabric brush against her skin, a tiny comfort against the storm of emotions inside her. As midnight approached, the family made their way to the pack’s shifting ground, the sacred space where new wolves were initiated into their lifelong companions, where bonds were sealed under the silent watch of the moon. The air was alive with anticipation. Other families had gathered, and, as tradition dictated, the Alpha’s family was present to witness the awakening and bless the joining of the new wolves into the pack. Iva’s heart skipped as she caught sight of Nick. He was leaning casually against a tree, a smirk playing across his face, eyes flicking over her figure with that same arrogance he had always carried. Her gaze met his, and for a moment, fury flared so hot she could feel it in her throat. What an immature p***k, she thought, clenching her fists inside the folds of her dress, smirking at me like I’m some kind of joke… But before she could dwell further, a strange, tingling sensation began in her body, soft at first, like the brush of a breeze across her skin. She froze, every nerve on fire. The heat coursing through her veins, the restless pressure in her chest, the faint fluttering she had noticed these past days—all of it intensified. It’s happening… she whispered to herself, a mixture of awe and fear tightening her throat. The air around her seemed to pulse in rhythm with her heartbeat, the moonlight glinting on her hair and the grass beneath her feet. Her skin prickled with an energy she could not name, a primal force that made every muscle in her body ache with anticipation. She looked around—the Alpha, the pack elders, other wolves already shifting silently beside their families—and tried to focus, but the tingling spread, sharper now, demanding her attention. She placed a hand over her chest, feeling the rapid, insistent beating of her heart. It’s my wolf… it’s finally coming…

The first wave of pain came without mercy. It started in Iva’s spine, a sharp, searing heat that crawled upward and downward at the same time, splitting her breath in half and forcing a gasp from her throat as her knees buckled beneath her. The ground seemed to tilt, the world stretching and bending as if reality itself was giving her one last chance to step back. She didn’t. She couldn’t. Her bones screamed as pressure built inside them, a terrible, relentless force pushing outward, rearranging her from the inside out. It felt as though her body was being rewritten cell by cell, her humanity peeled away layer by layer, and tears streamed down her face—not from fear alone, but from the sheer intensity of it. This hurts… so much… Her hands hit the earth as her fingers spasmed, nails elongating, thickening, tearing through skin in flashes of white-hot agony. She cried out, the sound raw and broken, echoing across the shifting grounds as every eye turned toward her. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. Her vision sharpened painfully, colors bleeding brighter, outlines becoming cruelly precise. She could hear everything—the whisper of grass bending under the wind, the shallow breaths of the gathered wolves, the distant hoot of an owl—and it overwhelmed her senses so completely that she nearly lost herself to the flood. Her back arched violently as her spine cracked, vertebrae snapping and reshaping, forcing a scream from her throat that turned halfway into something feral, something not quite human anymore. Fur burst through her skin in waves, dark and soft, spreading across her arms, her back, her legs, until her human form felt like a memory slipping through her grasp. Hold on, she told herself desperately. Don’t lose yourself. Don’t disappear. The pain peaked—an unbearable crescendo—and then suddenly, terrifyingly, it shifted. The agony dulled, replaced by a roaring warmth, a powerful strength flooding her limbs, grounding her to the earth beneath her. Her breathing slowed, her heartbeat steadying, her awareness expanding beyond what she had ever known. And then— She stood. On four legs. The ground felt solid and real beneath her paws, every blade of grass distinct, every vibration alive. Her tail swayed instinctively behind her, her body light yet strong, compact yet balanced, and for the first time in her life, she felt whole. I… I did it, she thought, wonder blooming in her chest. This is my wolf. A soft presence brushed against her mind, gentle yet steady, like a calm voice rising from deep water. Hello, Iva. Her breath hitched. You… you’re real. A warm pulse of emotion flowed through her. I am Avalon. And I have been waiting for you. Tears burned behind her eyes, even as her wolf’s vision took over, and she lifted her head slowly, curiosity glowing through her as she looked around at the gathered pack. This was the moment every young wolf dreamed of. Pride. Acceptance. Belonging. The power of the pack. But what met her gaze shattered those dreams in an instant. They were … laughing? Not openly—not loudly—but the smirks, the raised brows, the poorly hidden amusement cut deeper than claws ever could. Some whispered behind hands. Others shook their heads with thinly veiled disappointment. Why…? Iva asked silently, confusion twisting painfully inside her chest. Why are they looking at me like this? Her gaze darted from face to face, desperately searching for something—anything—that looked like approval. And then she saw her father. Gamma Rhys stood rigid, his face flushed a deep, angry red—not with pride, not with awe, but with something that looked like… embarrassment? His jaw was clenched so tightly it looked as though it might crack, his eyes avoiding her entirely as if she were something shameful. Something’s wrong. The pain of that look eclipsed even the agony of her transformation. “Father…?” She tried to mind-link him for the first time, but his walls were up, blocking her. Her chest constricted violently, panic blooming where joy had been moments before. Why are they looking like this at me? she whispered inwardly, her voice trembling as tears threatened once more. Avalon’s presence wrapped around her like a protective shield, steady and calm despite the hurt radiating from Iva’s soul. Perhaps, Avalon said gently, because of us… or more exactly, because of me. Us? Iva asked confused. Our size, Avalon continued softly. We are not large. Not imposing. Not what they … expected. Iva looked down at herself—at her lean paws, her smaller build compared to the massive wolves shifting nearby. She wasn’t feeling weak, but she wasn’t towering or even of a normal standard size. She wasn’t monstrous. She wasn’t terrifying. She was… different. Is that so bad? Iva asked, her heart breaking open, but deep inside already knowing the answer. She would be judged based on her physical appearance and be categorised like the runt of the pack. Her heart dropped. Before Iva could wrap her head around her new reality—before she could lift her head and find the courage to stand proudly despite the judgment— A sharp, commanding voice cut through the air like a blade. “Shift back.”The Alpha spoke. Every sound died instantly. “Now,” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for defiance. Iva froze, shock rippling through her. Already? But I—I just— we supposed to run with the pack… the first hunt. Do as he says, Avalon urged calmly. We will survive this. The warmth retreated, her body folding inward once more as the transformation reversed, bones shrinking, fur retreating, pain flaring again though less violently than before. When it ended, Iva collapsed to her knees, gasping, shaking, human once more and painfully exposed. Silence pressed down on her from all sides. She hugged herself, trembling—not from the cold, but from the realization that the moment she had waited for her entire life had ended not with pride… …but with shame. -- The silence after the Alpha’s command was heavier than the night itself. For a few endless seconds, no one moved, as if the entire pack was holding its breath, unsure whether to react with laughter, pity, or something worse. Iva stood there trembling, arms wrapped around herself, her b**e feet pressing into the cold earth of the shifting grounds, her chest rising and falling too fast as she tried to keep herself together. Her mother covered her with a robe. Then the murmurs began. Not loud. Not brave. Just enough to wound. Whispers slid through the air like knives, glances flickered toward her and away again, and the curiosity she had seen moments before twisted into something colder, something sharp and dismissive. The Alpha stepped forward, his presence commanding without effort. “That will be all for tonight,” he said firmly. “Return to your homes.” The pack members did not hesitate. One by one, wolves turned away, many sifting back, their interest already fading, their steps quick and eager to escape the awkwardness of what they had just witnessed. Parents ushered their newly shifted children forward, voices low, already reframing the night into something forgettable. Something small. Soon, only a handful of figures remained under the moonlight. The Alpha and his family. The Beta family and their daughter. And the Gammas. Iva’s father did not look at her. He stood rigid, his fists clenched at his sides, jaw locked so tightly that the muscles jumped beneath his skin. His shame radiated from him in suffocating waves, hot and furious, and when he finally spoke, his voice cut deeper than any insult Nick had ever thrown at her. “How,” Gamma Rhys said, his tone low and sharp, “didn’t you even get a proper wolf?” Iva flinched as if struck. Her breath hitched painfully, her vision blurring as tears threatened once again, and she opened her mouth—desperate to explain, to say something, anything—but no sound came out… This is what the Goddess gifted me! she wanted to scream. The Alpha sighed. A slow, heavy sound filled with false patience. “Rhys,” he said, placing a hand on the Gamma’s shoulder in what looked like a consoling gesture. “I am sorry, my friend, I really hopped for a different outcome for you. But you shouldn’t be surprised.” Iva’s heart dropped. “The Moon does not always grant strength where we expect it,” the Alpha continued calmly. “Bloodlines weaken. It happens. It is unfortunate, but not unheard of.” Unfortunate. Iva’s chest burned. “She is… small,” the Alpha added after a brief pause, his gaze flicking toward Iva with cool assessment. “Perhaps she will find her place somewhere.” Somewhere. As if she were already being dismissed. Her father nodded stiffly, swallowing his anger, his humiliation, his wounded pride. “How am I supposed to face the other Gammas?” he snapped bitterly. “Knowing my daughter is the runt of the pack?” The word landed like a blow. Runt. Iva felt it echo through her bones, tearing something fragile inside her apart. Her hands trembled uncontrollably, her knees threatening to give way, but she forced herself to stay upright, because falling now would only confirm everything they already believed. Her mother stepped forward then, eyes shining with unshed tears, voice trembling but firm. “She is not a runt,” Rana said. “She is healthy. She shifted. That alone—” “That is enough,” Rhys cut her off sharply, not even turning to face her. “Do not embarrass me further.” Rana froze. The hurt on her face was unbearable, a mix of pain, helplessness, and restrained fury, but she said nothing more, stepping back slowly as if she, too, had just been dismissed from her own child’s life. The Alpha nodded once, the matter clearly settled in his eyes. “You should take her home,” he said. “Let her rest and we will talk tomorrow. This night has been… disappointing enough.” Disappointing. That word followed Iva like a shadow as they began the walk back. The group moved ahead of her without a second thought. Her father walked stiffly beside the Alpha, her mother a few steps behind him, trying—and failing—to slow her pace enough to stay close to Iva. But Iva couldn’t keep up. Each step felt heavier than the last, her legs weak, her chest aching as she fought the sobs clawing their way up her throat. The night air felt too cold, the moon too bright, the path too long. She fell behind. No one noticed. Or worse—no one cared. Her vision blurred, tears finally spilling as she hugged herself, trying desperately not to break down completely in the open. Just make it home, she told herself. Just make it home. A pair of footsteps slowed beside her. She didn’t need to look up to know who it was. “Well,” Nick’s voice drawled lazily, laced with amusement. “That was… underwhelming.” She lifted her gaze slowly, her heart pounding, and met his eyes—cold, mocking, cruel. “Guess even the Moon Goddess has standards,” he continued with a smirk, his eyes flicking deliberately over her body. “And you didn’t quite meet them.” Her breath caught painfully. Ella stepped closer to him, looping her arm through his possessively, her l**s curving in a satisfied smile as she looked Iva up and down. “It’s kind of sad,” she said lightly. “I almost feel sorry for you.” Nick chuckled. “Almost.” He leaned closer just enough for his words to sting. “Do everyone a favor and stay out of sight, Ironboard. You were never meant to stand with us anyway. So clingy, so needy…” Then he turned away. Ella followed, laughter soft and triumphant as they caught up with the others, their silhouettes blending seamlessly into the future everyone expected them to have. Iva stood alone. The path ahead was empty. The weight of the night finally crushed her, and she sank to her knees, her shoulders shaking as silent sobs tore through her chest, her hands pressed to her mouth to keep the sound from escaping. She had waited her entire life for this moment. And it had broken her completely. Inside her, unseen and unheard, Avalon stirred quietly in her soul. This is not the end, the wolf whispered. But right now, all Iva could feel was the unbearable ache of being left behind.

The door to her room closed behind her with a dull click. That was all it took. Iva slid down against the wood, her legs giving out as if they had been holding her upright by sheer will alone. The moment she hit the floor, the dam inside her shattered completely. Tears poured from her eyes in violent waves, her body shaking as sobs tore through her chest, raw and uncontrollable. She pressed her hands to her face, but it didn’t help. Nothing helped. The night replayed itself over and over in her mind—faces, whispers, the Alpha’s voice, her father’s red, humiliated expression, Nick’s smirk. Each memory felt like another cut, another reminder that she had never truly belonged. “I tried,” she whispered into the empty room, her voice breaking. “I tried so hard… all the extra training… extra classes… volunteer activities… and for what? They didn’t even let the pack to bond with me, to have my first run, my first hunt…” The words dissolved into broken cries. Her bed loomed above her, untouched, but she didn’t have the strength to reach it. She stayed curled on the floor, small and trembling, as if trying to disappear into the shadows. The moonlight crept in through the window, pale and cold, illuminating her tears like a silent witness to her ruin. Inside her, Avalon stirred. Not strong. Not proud. Just… present. “I’m sorry,” the wolf whimpered softly, her voice thin and fragile like a wounded thing. “I didn’t mean for this.” Iva squeezed her eyes shut, clutching her chest as if that could ease the pain. “It’s not your fault,” she whispered. “It’s never been your fault.” But Avalon’s sadness deepened, spreading through Iva’s chest like a bruise. “They hate you because of me,” Avalon said. “They see me and think you are less.” A knock echoed through the room. Soft. Careful. “Iva?” her mother’s voice came through the door, trembling with worry. “Sweetheart… please open the door. Let me talk to you.” Iva’s breath hitched violently. For eighteen years, she had never turned her mother away. Not once. Rana had always been her refuge, her warmth, the only place she felt truly safe. But tonight… tonight even that felt complicated. Tonight, she saw it clearly. Her mother stood between her and her mate, stretched thin by loyalty and love, forced to choose silence to keep peace. And Iva suddenly realized that no matter how much her mother loved her, she would always belong to her husband first. These were the pack rules, especially for the ranked wolves: support your mate no matter what, be united. “I can’t,” Iva whispered hoarsely. “Please… just leave me alone.” The words felt wrong on her tongue. They hurt almost as much as the rejection she had suffered outside. There was silence on the other side of the door. Then a quiet sob. “I love you,” her mother said softly. “No matter what.” Footsteps retreated down the hall. Iva buried her face in her arms and cried harder than before, the loneliness pressing down on her until it felt impossible to breathe. She had never felt so completely abandoned. Inside her soul, Avalon shifted restlessly. After a long moment, the wolf spoke again, her voice hesitant, uncertain. “Iva…” “Yes?” she whispered. “If you think I am too little for you… too weak… I could leave.” Iva froze. Her breath caught painfully in her throat. “What?” she whispered, lifting her head slightly, her heart pounding in sudden fear. “What do you mean, leave?” Avalon’s presence wavered, fragile but sincere. “Sometimes… very rarely… if a wolf feels they are not right for their human… the Moon Goddess may allow a parting and grant you a new wolf.” Iva’s hands trembled. “A parting?” she repeated, horror flooding her voice. “How is that even possible? I never heard of such thing.” “It requires the wolf to ask,” Avalon explained quietly. “And the bond must not be fully anchored yet. You are newly shifted. The Goddess might listen.” Iva’s chest tightened, panic mixing with grief. The idea of losing Avalon—after everything, after finally having something that was hers—felt unbearable. A long, tense silence stretched between them. Moonlight spilled across the floor as Iva slowly pushed herself upright, leaning back against the bed. She stared at nothing, her thoughts racing. “Is it because of tonight?” she finally asked, her voice barely audible. “Yes,” Avalon admitted. “You are hurting because of me.” Tears welled in Iva’s eyes again, but this time they were different—hot, furious, resolute. “No,” she said suddenly, her voice gaining strength. “No. That’s not true.” Avalon hesitated. “But they mocked you. Your family turned away. Your pack—" “I don’t care,” Iva interrupted, clenching her fists. Her voice shook, but it did not waver. “I don’t care if they turn against me. I don’t care if they mock me or call me weak or a runt or whatever else they want.” Avalon fell silent. Iva swallowed hard, pressing a hand over her heart where she could feel Avalon’s presence most clearly. “You are my wolf,” she continued fiercely. “You are my gift from the Moon Goddess. And I will not reject you. Not now. Not ever.” A quiet, trembling sound echoed inside her. “Even if I cause them to hate you?” Avalon asked softly. “Even if your family turns against you?” Iva nodded, tears streaming down her face as a strange, burning resolve filled her chest. “Yes,” she whispered. “Even then. Plus, my relation with my father was always… tense. He never got used with the fact that he got a girl instead of a boy.” She drew a shaky breath and added, with a bitterness that tasted like freedom, “And, to hll with the pack. As wolves we should be united, a pack… yet tonight it showed their hypocrisy.” The bond between them surged suddenly, warm and intense, wrapping around Iva like invisible arms. Avalon’s presence strengthened, no longer small or uncertain, but fierce in her loyalty. “If this is your decision, then we will stand together,” the wolf said firmly. “No matter where the path leads.” Iva leaned back against her bed, exhaustion finally pulling her down as her tears slowed. Outside, the moon watched silently, pale and knowing. Sometime after the tears dried and the house fell silent, Iva slipped into sleep, her body heavy, her mind still aching, yet strangely calm for the first time that night. The world faded softly, not into darkness, but into silver light. She was standing in a forest. The trees were ancient, their trunks wide and tall, their leaves glowing faintly as if kissed by moonlight from within. The air shimmered, cool and clean, carrying the scent of earth and night-blooming flowers. Every sound felt distant, muted, as though the world itself was holding its breath. “Where… am I?” Iva whispered. Her voice echoed strangely, folding back into the silence. “This is the Moon Grove,” a voice answered smoothly. Iva turned. A woman stood a few steps away, tall and commanding, her presence bending the forest around her. She had long, flowing blond hair that seemed woven from moonbeams, pale skin that glowed softly, and eyes so silver they looked like living moons. She was impossibly beautiful, but it was not a fragile beauty—it was powerful, ancient, and absolute. Iva’s heart stuttered. “Who are you?” she asked, though something deep inside her already knew the answer. “And how I was brought here?” she added quickly, a mix of awe and fear tightening her chest. The woman smiled, a slow, knowing curve of her l**s. “I think you know who I am, Iva,” she replied gently. Realization crashed over Iva like a wave. She dropped to her knees instantly, bowing her head, her hands pressed to the glowing forest floor. “Moon Goddess,” she breathed. “Forgive me. I did not mean any disrespect.” Laughter rang out, light and melodic, rippling through the trees like wind through leaves. “Oh, child,” the goddess said warmly. “Stand up.” Iva hesitated. “I said stand,” the goddess repeated, her tone kind but absolute. Iva rose slowly to her feet, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure it could be heard through the entire grove. The Moon Goddess studied her openly, her gaze sharp and searching, as if she could see every scar Iva carried inside. “Avalon spoke of you,” she said calmly. Iva swallowed. “She did?” “Yes,” the goddess nodded. “She told me you accepted her. Fully.” Iva felt her throat tighten. “I am grateful for my wolf,” she said honestly. “She is kind. She is gentle. And she is mine.” The Moon Goddess tilted her head slightly. “You are not angry?” Iva blinked. “Angry?” “Many are,” the goddess said plainly. “Disappointed. Resentful. They expect strength, size, ferocity. They curse me for giving them what they perceive as weakness.” Iva shook her head slowly. “All wolves are your creations,” she said, her voice steady despite the awe coursing through her. “How could I be angry at a gift from you?” The silver eyes narrowed, studying her with sudden intensity. “Avalon may not be impressive to others,” Iva continued softly. “But she is sweet. And kind. And she will be my forever companion, no matter what. That is enough for me.” Silence stretched between them. The forest seemed to lean closer. Then the Moon Goddess smiled. Not a gentle smile. A wide, radiant smile filled with power and promise. “And that,” she said slowly, her voice resonating through the grove, “is exactly why you are worthy of my gifts.” The moonlight around them surged suddenly, blindingly bright, the ground trembling beneath Iva’s feet as something ancient and vast began to awaken. Iva gasped, her heart racing. “W-what gifts?” she whispered. The Moon Goddess stepped closer, her silver eyes glowing brighter than the moon itself. “Wake up, child,” she said softly. “The world is about to learn what true strength looks like.” And as the forest dissolved into brilliant light— Iva screamed.