From A Rejected Omega To A Blessed Luna

The moon was silver tonight, not white. Not full. Not bright. It hung like a ghost in the dark velvet sky, dimmed by clouds and mourning something it could not name. Below it, nestled in a quiet valley between forest and mountain, the Nightshade Pack lay asleep. All but one soul.

Liora knelt beside a dying wolf, hands smeared in blood and herbs, her heartbeat steady even though her bones trembled with cold. Her breath came in visible clouds as the wind howled past the infirmary tent. The scent of iron and ash clung to the night air. Another rogue attack, another near-death. The warrior on the table had deep claw marks across his belly, and silver lodged in his thigh, an assassin's dagger coated in poison.

"He's stable," she whispered to herself, pushing a loose curl of hair behind her ear. "You've done worse. You've survived worse."

She tightened the bandages, lips set in a firm line, then reached for the tincture she had brewed earlier. Nightshade mixed with healing root, a dangerous cocktail, but just enough would neutralize the silver's poison. She whispered to the wolf's unconscious form as she worked, murmuring encouragements no one ever gave her.

When the worst had passed and his vitals steadied, Liora sat back on her heels, exhausted.

There would be no thanks. There never was.

She wiped her hands on a rag and stood, her legs numb from crouching too long. The infirmary tent was empty but for her and the soldier. No helpers. No thanks. No Luna to oversee the wounded. There hadn't been a Luna here in years.

And there would never be one like her.

Liora had no wolf. She had no fated mate. She was born from no noble line, her blood too thin, too unknown. The only reason she had not been cast out was because of her gift, her healing hands, her perfect memory, her ability to learn faster than the betas and medics who once tried to train her. Now she trained them.

Still, she was invisible.

Still, she was nothing.

They called her "omega" when they were kind. "Witch-born" when they were not. And worse, the unchosen.

Mate bonds were sacred in their world. A connection woven by the Moon Goddess herself. To be chosen was to be wanted. To be rejected was to be discarded like rotting meat.

And Liora had been rejected. Brutally.

A year ago, her mate-a rising Gamma in the Nightshade Pack-had sensed the bond and spat in her face. Publicly. "You? You're my mate? The Goddess must be drunk."

He'd claimed another a week later.

Liora hadn't wept, not then. But she had died in a way she didn't know how to mourn.

Now she simply worked. Healed. Waited.

She didn't believe in the Moon Goddess anymore. How could she? The very deity meant to guide their bonds had tied her to someone cruel, someone who mocked her existence, and then left her with nothing. If the Goddess existed, she was not listening.

The tent flap rustled, pulling Liora from her thoughts. She turned quickly, expecting another injury.

Instead, it was Maris.

Her friend.

If Liora still believed in blessings, Maris might have been one once. Tall, radiant, her silver-blonde hair braided intricately down her back, Maris always looked like she belonged in the Alpha's court. She had charm in her smile and cruelty hidden in the corners of her eyes but Liora chose not to see that. Not yet.

"You're still here?" Maris asked lightly, stepping inside. "It's nearly dawn."

"Where else would I be?" Liora replied. "He almost died."

Maris walked to the cot and glanced at the warrior, then wrinkled her nose. "And yet you're always waist-deep in blood. You should rest. Tomorrow's the summit, remember?"

The summit. Right.

Liora nodded absently. "The Alpha King is visiting."

"The one from the capital." Maris's eyes sparkled. "Kaelen. The Unmated King. Can you believe it? Every unmated she-wolf in the territory will be throwing herself at him."

"Let's hope he finds his Luna." Liora's tone was neutral.

Maris tilted her head. "You're not hoping it's you?"

Liora scoffed. "I don't put my fate in the Goddess anymore."

There was a beat of silence before Maris smiled again. "Well, maybe she'll surprise you."

Liora said nothing. She was too tired for hopes and games.

The next day, the entire pack shifted.

Even the trees seemed to stand taller. Banners were hung. Warriors lined the path from the gate to the packhouse. Liora stood behind the crowd, her healer's robes muted brown against the sea of polished blues and grays.

Then she saw him.

Alpha King Kaelen.

Mounted on a black stallion, flanked by high-ranking wolves, his aura reached before he did. It rolled through the crowd like thunder power, rage, dominance. Yet when his eyes scanned the gathering, pausing on faces, lingering...

They found her.

For one breathless moment, the world stilled. The threads of magic hummed in the air, faint and golden, tugging toward her chest. Her heart stuttered. Her wolf silent for years twitched in the dark, like something stirring in a long-forgotten grave.

Then the moment passed.

Kaelen's eyes moved on. His jaw clenched. His power receded.

Liora blinked, confusion rattling through her. Had she imagined it?

Beside her, Maris trembled.

"He looked at me," she whispered.

That night, the pack celebrated. Music echoed through the great hall. Liora did not attend. She had no place there, and besides, she still smelled faintly of wolfsbane and blood.

She sat in the infirmary, her eyes on the moon, half-covered now, silver still.

Unclaimed.

Unwanted.

A knock on the tent post startled her.

Maris entered, cheeks flushed, lips swollen. Her eyes were glassy, giddy.

"He chose me," she whispered, hands to her chest. "The Alpha King. He says I'm his mate."

Liora froze.

"What?" she said, the word barely formed.

"I don't understand it either," Maris laughed breathlessly. "But when he touched my hand and it hit him. The bond. He says I'm his."

Liora's heart cracked. Just slightly. Not jealousy but disbelief.

Something was wrong.

"That doesn't make sense," she whispered. "He... looked at me."

Maris's smile faded. "Don't be ridiculous."

"No, I felt..."

"Don't." The word snapped like a whip. "You're not about to ruin this for me, Liora. Don't claim something that was never yours."

Liora stepped back. "I didn't..."

Maris stepped closer. "Maybe you should be happy for me, instead of bitter. You're good at being invisible, Liora. Stay that way."

She turned and left without another word. Liora stood frozen in the silence, her hands trembling, her chest aching from something deeper than rejection. Something old. Something wrong.

Because something had happened when Kaelen looked at her. She knew it. But the bond... it wasn't hers anymore.

The next morning, a formal announcement was made: Alpha King Kaelen had found his fated mate. Maris of Nightshade would be his Luna.

Liora didn't attend the ceremony. She stayed in the woods behind the infirmary, the wind cold on her face, the trees whispering secrets she couldn't yet understand.

The moon, hidden behind clouds, offered no guidance. But deep in her chest, her wolf stirred again, awake, alert, and angry. Not everything was as it seemed. And fate?

Fate was about to realize that rejecting Liora had been the worst mistake the moon ever made.