Sera let out a choked cry, but it barely left her lips—it was the kind of sound that tore from the depths of the soul, a grief so raw it couldn't fully form into words. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed beside the bed, her hands gripping the sheets as if holding onto them could somehow stop the unbearable truth from sinking in.
Liora was still. Too still.
Her face was pale, her white long hair splayed across the pillow, matted with dried blood. Her lips, once full of warmth and quiet defiance, were parted slightly, but no words came from them. No breath stirred the air between them. The soft rise and fall of her chest was so faint ,you could barely hear it.
Tears streamed down Sera's face as she clutched Liora's limp hand in both of hers, pressing it against her forehead. "Please," she whispered, her voice trembling, breaking. "You can't… you can't leave us."
She had fought beside Liora, bled for her, trusted her. She had sworn to stand by her side no matter what, to be her Beta, her strength in times of weakness. But now? Now, all she could do was sit here, powerless, as Liora drifted somewhere between life and death.
The door burst open.
Aldric stood there, panting, his eyes wide with terror. He had seen the devastation outside—the injured, the broken, the blood staining the ground—but nothing had prepared him for this moment.
The healer was just stepping out when he arrived, their somber expression saying everything before a word was even spoken.
Aldric's world tilted.
His breath hitched, and in three long strides, he was at Liora's bedside, falling to his knees beside Sera.
"No…" His voice broke. His trembling hand hovered over Liora's forehead before he finally placed it there, feeling the unnatural coldness of her skin. "Moon Goddess, no…"
The weight of his grief crushed him.
He had gone to visit his mate's grave that morning, had sat in silence, speaking to her in whispers, asking for strength. He had told her he would protect their daughter. That no harm would come to her.
And now here she was—his precious child, his only remaining piece of his mate—lying before him, barely clinging to life.
Tears fell freely as he cupped Liora's face, his thumb brushing over her cheek, as if that small touch could wake her.
"I should have been here," he rasped, his voice hoarse with regret. "I should have—" His shoulders shook violently, his forehead pressing against her hand. "Liora, please… don't do this to me."
Sera turned away, squeezing her eyes shut as another sob tore from her. She had never seen Aldric like this—never seen him break. He was always a steady force, a leader, an anchor. But now? Now, he was just a father mourning his child before she was even gone.
The room felt colder. Heavier.
And outside, the Moonveil Pack lay in ruins.
Their warriors were wounded. Their defenses shattered. Their leader barely clinging to life.
The pack's strength was fading.
And if Liora didn't wake up soon…
They might not have the strength to fight what was coming next ... none of the packs.
‐‐‐
In the Lunarion pack
Zyra was dreaming.
No—she was seeing.
The battlefield stretched before her, shadows moving in the dim moonlight. Rogues. Dozens of them, their eyes burning with primal rage as they tore through Moonveil's defenses. She could smell the blood in the air, the raw scent of death.
And then, in the midst of it all—Liora.
She lay still at first, unmoving, her pale skin almost glowing under the night sky. But then her eyes snapped open. Not their usual blue, but something else. Something unnatural.
Power.
It radiated from her like a storm unleashed, crackling in the air. In a blur, she was on her feet, moving faster than any wolf should, her form almost a shadow as she lunged outside the gates. Her claws sank into the nearest rogue, tearing through muscle and bone with a force that sent the others reeling.
Zyra could feel it—she could feel it.
This was no ordinary strength. It was something far beyond what an Omega should possess.
Liora struck again, moving like a ghost, like a force of nature, cutting through the rogues with an almost terrifying ease. But then—
She wavered.
Her body faltered, her knees buckling. And in an instant, she collapsed.
Zyra's heart lurched.
A sharp gasp tore from her lips as her eyes flew open. She bolted upright in bed, her chest heaving, sweat dampening her skin.
What was that?
Her head swam as she struggled to focus, but the images from her dream—no, her vision—refused to fade.
Did this really happen?
A voice broke through the haze.
"Zyra?"
Kael.
He stood at the side of her bed, his brows furrowed in concern. His usual cocky demeanor was gone, replaced by something she rarely saw in him—worry.
"You woke up like you were about to fight someone," he said, his voice edged with tension.
Zyra inhaled sharply, trying to steady herself. "I saw something, Kael. Rogues—a lot of them."
Kael stiffened. "What?"
"They attacked Moonveil." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "And… they're coming for us next."
Kael's fists clenched. "Then we need to get ready."
But Zyra didn't answer. Her vision blurred for a moment, a deep exhaustion settling into her bones. Her body felt… . Weak.
She swayed slightly, her breath coming in shallow gasps.
Kael stepped forward, catching her by the shoulders. "Zyra? What's wrong?"
She tried to shake off the dizziness, but the weakness only deepened. It wasn't just exhaustion. It was something else.
Something was pulling at her strength.
"Liora," she murmured, her voice almost too faint to hear.
Kael's grip tightened, his worry shifting into something darker. "You can't fight like this," he said, his voice almost breaking. "Zyra, look at yourself. You're barely—"
His jaw clenched.
"This is her doing," he spat bitterly. "Liora is so wicked for this. I'll never forgive her, her rejection caused this"
Zyra barely heard him. The world tilted, her vision fading at the edges.
Then—darkness.
She collapsed onto the bed.
"Zyra!" Kael's voice rang out in panic.
He didn't hesitate. He bolted for the healer.
Moments later, the healer arrived, her expression grim as she took one look at Zyra's unconscious form.
"She's lost consciousness," she murmured.
Kael's heart pounded. "Do something!"
The healer exhaled, shaking her head. "I can't."
Kael froze. "What?"
"This isn't something I can fix," she said solemnly. "Her mate must be in the same condition."
Kael's blood ran cold.
That meant… Liora.
His hands curled into fists. His hatred for Moonveil burned deeper.
His hatred for Liora solidified into something unshakable.
Because if Zyra didn't wake up soon—if she didn't recover from this—
He would never forgive her.
And Moonveil would pay.