Chapter 2 The Edge of the World

The woods had never felt so vast. Branches clawed at my arms. Roots snatched at my feet. Every breath tasted of moss and damp soil, thick with magic and mourning. I didn't know how long I had been running-minutes or hours-but the ceremony, the rejection, the shame all swirled behind me like shadows I couldn't outrun.

Kael had rejected me. In front of everyone. He had chosen pride over fate. Vanity over the Moon's will. And the worst part? No one stopped him. Not the elders. Not the Goddess. Not even the sky, which should've cried for me.

But it didn't. So I did.

Tears blurred my vision until the trees turned to smudges. I tripped on a fallen branch and hit the ground hard, my palms scraping against the dirt. I stayed there, face down, body shaking. My wolf whimpered inside me, no longer raging, just... empty. We had lost something sacred. And I didn't know how to survive it.

When I opened my eyes again, daylight was breaking. Birdsong trickled through the canopy. Dew clung to my torn ceremonial dress. My body ached, but I was still alive-and that had to count for something.

I sat up slowly, hugging my knees. The pain in my chest had dulled to a throbbing void. The bond had been severed, but like a phantom limb, I still felt him. Kael. The warmth that used to stir in my chest when he drew near was now cold. Gone.

But I was still here.

And if I was still here, then the Moon wasn't finished with me.

I didn't want to go back. Not to the Bloodfang Pack. Not to the pitying stares or the whispers or the elders who said nothing. I didn't want to hear Kael's name or smell his scent ever again.

I wanted to disappear.

No. I wanted to become something else. Something stronger.

By midday, I had crossed into the unclaimed territories-wildlands untouched by pack law. The border was marked by a break in the trees, where thick forest gave way to open ridges and jagged hills. I paused at the edge, heart pounding. Beyond this point, there were no rules. No Alpha. No sanctuary. Only the unknown. And freedom.

I stepped over.

The air changed. Crisp and clean, scented with pine and wild herbs. My wolf perked up faintly, sensing the shift. She liked it here. So did I.

For hours, I wandered. The terrain grew rockier, and my legs began to ache, but I kept moving. Hunger gnawed at my belly, and my bare feet bled, but still, I walked. I didn't know where I was going. I only knew I had to get far enough away that no one could drag me back.

And then I saw it.

A cottage-tucked into a hollow between two hills, shrouded in ivy and half-eaten by the forest. Smoke curled lazily from the chimney, and wildflowers spilled from cracked stone planters near the windows.

Someone lived here.

I froze.

Was it safe?

Did I care?

I didn't have the strength to turn around. So I approached, heart thudding, and knocked once-twice-before collapsing at the doorstep.

I woke to warmth and the scent of lavender.

I was wrapped in thick woolen blankets, lying on a cot by the fire. My feet were bandaged. My arms had been cleaned. A small wooden room surrounded me-cozy and cluttered, with shelves stacked high with jars of herbs and dried flowers. A kettle whistled softly in the corner.

Then I heard the footsteps.

A woman appeared, tall and elegant with silver hair coiled in a loose braid down her back. Her eyes were pale green, sharp with age and mystery.

"You're awake," she said, voice calm but firm. "Good. I was beginning to wonder if the forest had finally broken someone."

I tried to sit up, but my body protested.

"Where am I?" I rasped.

"In my home," she replied, crossing to the fire. "The edge of the old world, as some call it. You passed out on my doorstep like a half-dead pup. You're lucky I was feeling charitable."

She poured tea into a chipped mug and handed it to me. I hesitated before taking it. It smelled of mint and warmth.

"Thank you," I whispered.

She sat in a nearby chair, watching me. "What's your name, child?"

"Kaia," I said. My voice cracked on it. I hadn't spoken my name since the rejection.

She tilted her head. "From the Bloodfang Pack?"

I stiffened. "Not anymore."

"Hmph." Her eyes narrowed with something like curiosity-or recognition.

"I was... rejected," I admitted, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "Last night. During the ceremony. He-Kael-he... said I was nothing."

A long pause.

And then the woman stood.

"Follow me," she said.

She led me to the back of the cottage, where a garden flourished wildly under the dappled sun. Herbs, fruits, even rare nightflowers bloomed in every corner. Beyond it, a stone circle stood half-buried in moss-ancient and humming with quiet energy.

"This is old land," she said. "It listens. It remembers."

She turned to me. "The Moon doesn't make mistakes, Kaia. But sometimes, the ones She chooses must be broken before they can rise."

I swallowed hard. "He didn't want me."

"Then he wasn't worthy of you," she said without hesitation. "But you? You were chosen. That mark won't fade just because a fool said no."

"I don't feel chosen," I murmured.

"You will," she replied. "In time. But first, you must become something more than what they saw."

Over the next few days, I healed. The woman-her name was Lira-taught me how to walk the wildlands without fear. How to blend my senses with the forest. How to listen to my wolf without drowning in her grief. She didn't coddle me. She didn't offer sympathy. But her presence was constant, firm, and quietly fierce.

She told me stories of wolves who had walked away from the packs and never looked back. Of Lunas who rose without Alphas. Of power that didn't come from dominance, but from survival, from resilience.

Each night, I dreamed of Kael-his face twisted with cruelty, his words like knives. But each morning, the dreams faded a little more.

And each day, I grew stronger.

It was on the seventh night that I finally shifted again.

I had been afraid to. After the rejection, my wolf had retreated so deeply I feared she might never return. But under the moonlight, Lira stood beside me at the stone circle and nodded.

"Let go," she said.

So I did.

The shift was painful-but clean. My bones cracked, muscles twisted, and then I was fur, I was teeth, I was wild again. My wolf howled into the night, and the sound wasn't sorrow anymore. It was defiance.

I ran.

Through the trees. Over rivers. Into the stars.

And when I returned, panting and trembling in the grass, Lira looked at me with something like pride.

"You're ready," she said.

"Ready for what?"

"To learn who you really are."