They stirred nothing in her. Not anymore.
She exhaled slowly and turned away. The stolen credit, the twisted history—it could all stay here, buried beneath stone and progress.
Five hours before departure.
She ran to the neutral territory academy where they'd found each other again.
Young wolves in training tunics streamed past the gathering hall entrance, some casting curious glances at the faint scars still visible on her face. Lyra ignored them, walking slowly along the tree-lined paths, past the archive's familiar carved steps.
The young Alpha who'd once looked at her like she was his whole world was nowhere to be found.
In her memory, he wore a crisp white tunic, always appearing at her training chamber door the instant the session ended. He saved her the window seat in the archive every single time. He found her in crowds like she was the only wolf there, taking her hand with such solemnity, his voice steady with promise: "Lyra, trust me. I'll be good to you for the rest of my life."
A bitter smile tugged at her lips.
Fenris, you broke your word after all.
Three hours before departure.
She ran to the moonflower fields where he'd claimed her as his Intended Mate.
Her plan was simple: bury all the little gifts he'd given her over the years—the carved token from their first hunt together, the matching fang-pendants from their anniversary, the small wolf figurine he'd shaped by hand for her naming day. Bury them here and let the past rot beneath the soil.
But as she approached the entrance, she spotted two figures standing among the crimson moonblossoms. Fenris and Selene, with the ritual-hall keeper hovering nearby.
"Alpha Blackmoor, Lady Ashenvale," Alaric Stormholt was saying, gesturing at the deep red blooms surrounding them, "these moonblossoms were specially cultivated for occasions like this. Red moonblossoms symbolize passionate bonding—the perfect choice for a mating ceremony ground."
Selene clung to Fenris's arm, her voice a practiced whine. "Fenris, I don't like red moonblossoms. They're so common. Can we do golden ones instead?"
Fenris looked down at her, his eyes soft with indulgence. "Of course. Whatever you want. I'll have them brought in right now."
Alaric pulled out his record tablet, already scrolling through options. "We have several other varieties available. Let me show you—oh, and there are the sunblooms Lady Ashenvale loved so much."