Chapter 3 Faithless bo

The moon had become a stranger to her. Liora sat on the cold roof of the infirmary, a quiet space only she ever seemed to visit. A place where no one asked questions, where no one looked at her with pity or disgust. She had climbed up with a basket of dried herbs to sort, but the task had long been forgotten. Her eyes were fixed upward on the indifferent orb in the sky that had once promised love, protection, and destiny.

Now, it just stared back. Distant. Silent. Faith had once lived in her bones. As a girl, she would recite the old prayers to the Moon Goddess before every meal, hum the sacred lullabies to herself while grinding herbs, and leave crushed lavender and saltwater at the altar every full moon. She believed, truly believed, that the Goddess had a plan for her. That her wolf would come late, but strong. That her mate would recognize her and cherish her.

That she mattered.

But all that belief had burned away the day she felt the mate bond snap like an old rope and was left lying in the mud, sobbing without sound while people walked around her as if she were no more than spilled milk.

The Moon Goddess had watched it happen. And done nothing.

Now, when she passed the altar, she didn't stop. When others danced under the full moon, she remained in her tent, grinding herbs until the rhythmic thumping of drums no longer echoed in her chest.

She still knew the prayers.

She just didn't believe the one listening deserved them.

That night, the infirmary was quiet. No new injuries. No outbreaks. No rogue sightings for weeks, which meant the warriors grew lazy and the younger she-wolves spent more time gossiping about mating prospects than training. Liora had learned to enjoy these quiet nights. They were moments where she could breathe without constantly scanning for blood.

She lit a single lantern, set a kettle over the fire, and began to slice feverroot into even chips. The scent of it was sharp, minty and earthy, grounding her in ways the moon never could.

Just as she reached for the drying leaves to start her next mixture, the tent flap opened.

"Liora?" came a voice. One she hadn't heard in some time.

She turned. A tall man stood in the doorway, dressed in the forest-green cloak of a Beta emissary. Beta Fallon, the pack's mouthpiece for anything involving the council. He rarely visited the infirmary unless it was to retrieve a report.

"Yes, Beta?" she asked cautiously, standing and brushing her palms on her apron.

"You're summoned," he said bluntly, folding his arms.

Her brows lifted. "Summoned? By who?"

"The Alpha. Tonight."

A chill slipped down her spine. "Did something happen?"

Fallon gave her a look she couldn't quite place, an odd mix of curiosity and unease.

"Just come. He said alone."

She wiped her hands, hung her apron, and followed him without another word.

*****

The packhouse rose at the hill's crest like a fortress carved from ashstone and obsidian, its towers glowing dimly with lantern light. Unlike the infirmary's earthy calm, the packhouse radiated formality and cold authority. Liora rarely came here. She had no status. Her place was among the wounded and forgotten.

When they reached the great hall, Fallon nodded to the guards and stepped aside.

"He's inside."

Liora took a breath, steadied herself, and entered.

The room was dim, lit only by the large fire pit in the center and the torches lining the stone walls. Shadows danced along the pillars like whispering ghosts. At the far end, the Alpha...Alpha Cillian stood with his back to her, flanked by two of his council members. His salt-and-pepper hair was tied back, and his robes were not ceremonial, but clean and pressed.

He turned when she entered, and for the first time in moons, she saw something flicker across his face.

Respect? No. That wasn't it.

Worry.

"You summoned me, Alpha?" she asked, bowing slightly.

"Yes," he said, motioning her forward. "Come closer. This matter concerns your role as healer."

She stepped forward slowly, heart quickening.

"The capital sent word this evening," he said. "A royal summons."

Liora frowned. "From the council?"

"No. From the Alpha King."

Her breath caught.

Alpha Kaelen. The most powerful wolf in the realm. Ruler of the capital pack. Known for crushing rebellions, expanding territories, and executing corrupt Alphas without blinking.

He was also unmated.

But what did he want with her?

"Why would the Alpha King summon me?" she asked, blinking.

Cillian hesitated. One of his council members cleared their throat and handed her a scroll bound in black silk with a golden wax seal. The symbol of the Crescent Throne.

Liora unrolled it, her hands trembling slightly.

" To the one known as Liora of the Nightshade Pack-

The Crescent Throne calls for your presence at the gathering of northern packs, to be held on sacred grounds within the Nightshade territory.

Your service, as both healer and witness, is requested during the royal visit.

Signed under moon and law,

Alpha King Kaelen of House Vareth

She stared at the words, trying to make sense of them.

"Healer and witness?" she murmured. "What does that mean?"

"We were hoping you'd tell us," Cillian said grimly. "No explanation followed. No names. No reasons."

"Has the Alpha King ever requested someone by name before?"

"No," one of the councilmen said, face pale. "Not a single time."

The scroll fell slightly in her grip.

This didn't make sense. She was just the pack's doctor. An omega. A forgotten mark in the record books. There was nothing about her worthy of a royal summons.

Unless... unless this had something to do with the bond.

Her heart skipped.

No. That was impossible. That bond had died long ago. And it wasn't his.

Still, the faintest flicker of dread curled in her belly.

"I... I don't understand," she said. "Is this a mistake?"

Cillian looked at her sharply. "The Alpha King does not make mistakes. If he calls for you, you will answer. He arrives in three days."

"Three days?" she repeated, stunned.

"You'll be briefed on protocol tomorrow morning," the councilman added. "You'll need to wear appropriate robes. Speak only when spoken to. Bow at the right time."

"Don't embarrass the pack," the other one said curtly.

Cillian gave him a look, then turned to Liora.

"I don't know what this is," he said more softly. "But it could mean something... or everything. Be careful, girl. Wolves like Kaelen don't summon without purpose."

Liora nodded slowly, tucking the scroll under her arm.

"Dismissed," the Alpha said.

She bowed and left, her footsteps echoing down the long hallway like thunder in an empty canyon.

She didn't go home.

Instead, she wandered back to her rooftop, scroll still clutched in her hands, her thoughts racing.

Why her?

Why now?

What could the Alpha King possibly want with a rejected omega who had no wolf and no title?

She looked up at the sky. The moon had reappeared, thin and sharp like a blade.

"You're playing games again, aren't you?" she whispered. But the moon gave no answer. It never did. And that silence was the only truth Liora still believed in.