Chapter 1. The Goddess’s Bride

Eighteen years later…

The moon hung full and heavy above the grove, a watchful eye in the sky, its pale light spilling like cold milk over the ancient stones. Every leaf in the sacred clearing shimmered under its touch, and the towering oaks surrounding the grove stood like solemn sentinels in the night. A circle of torches burned low around the central dais, their flames guttering in the soft wind, throwing elongated shadows that danced across the mossy floor and the timeworn pedestal that waited at the heart of it all.

They had all come.

Every wolf in the pack stood gathered beyond the torchlight, a sea of bodies and silent breath, cloaked not in fur or fangs but in reverence. Not one voice rose, not one foot stirred. All eyes were fixed on her—the girl in white.

Ismeria Elowen felt the weight of a thousand gazes pressing against her skin like frost. Her gown flowed about her ankles like liquid moonlight, whispering secrets with every step she took. The pale silk shimmered faintly with her every breath, but it wasn’t just the fabric that glowed—beneath her skin, luminous veins pulsed along her arms, silver tracery shifting in time with her heartbeat. She looked carved from starlight, something holy and fragile, as though the Goddess had reached down and sculpted her from the moon itself.

She did not feel holy.

Her mother stood beside her, fingers brushing lightly down the length of her arm. The touch was gentle, but Ismeria could feel the tremor beneath it.

“You’re beautiful,” Lyssa whispered, her voice trembling with pride and something more complicated. “The Goddess herself must be watching. Your father and I... we’ve never been prouder.”

Ismeria smiled, but the expression was taut, more a mask than a truth. Inside, her stomach twisted. The silver veins throbbed brighter, sensing her unease. She glanced toward the circle of stones and the figures waiting there—the Alpha, his Luna, and Aeron, the boy she’d been promised to before she was even old enough to speak her own name.

Her thoughts turned traitorous.

What if the Elders were wrong?

What if this isn’t who I’m meant to be?

But the words never left her lips. Her father’s voice cut through the stillness, deep and solemn.

“It’s time.”

Raymond stood tall in his ceremonial cloak, face unreadable, though his eyes lingered on her with something tender. Together, he and Lyssa began to walk her forward, guiding her like an offering.

The crowd parted as they approached the dais, the hush among the wolves becoming so deep it seemed even the trees were holding their breath.

Alpha Magnus waited atop the pedestal, flanked by his Luna and their son. Aeron’s eyes met hers, steady and unblinking, dark pools reflecting the torchlight. He smiled—small, soft, reassuring—the kind of smile meant to calm wild things.

It only made her feel more like one.

At the base of the stone platform, her father bent to press a kiss to her brow. Her mother pulled her in, arms trembling around her.

“We love you,” she whispered. “No matter what.”

And then they let go.

Ismeria stepped forward alone, her bare feet brushing the cold stone, her silver veins flaring brighter with every step as though drawn by some ancient tether. A murmur rippled through the watching wolves—whispers of awe, and something darker. Unease.

She bowed low before the Alpha and Luna, hair slipping over her shoulders like a silken veil. Alpha Magnus raised a hand, and his voice rolled across the grove like thunder.

“Tonight,” he intoned, “under the gaze of the Moon Goddess, we bear witness to the union long foretold. Ismeria Elowen, born with the moon in her blood, stands before us as the mate to my son, Aeron. Together, they will lead us into strength and prosperity.”

Applause broke the stillness, a scattered howl rising into the sky. But Ismeria barely heard it. Her pulse throbbed too loudly in her ears, drowning out everything but the frantic beat of her heart.

Then the movement came.

Without warning, the wolves surrounding her began to shift—parting, drawing away—until a wide ring was left around her. The circle of firelight widened, leaving her exposed in the center. The wind stilled. Even the trees seemed to recoil.

They were waiting.

Her breath caught in her throat. It’s time. Her first shift.

A moment she had been prepared for her entire life, in theory—trained by Elders, reminded always to surrender.

Breathe. Yield. Let the wolf rise.

Ismeria closed her eyes. Tried to remember the feel of the earth beneath her feet, the rhythm of her breath. Her knees wobbled. Her chest ached.

Then it came—not the grace the Elders promised.

But pain.

A blinding, unbearable fire erupted within her bones, snapping joints and tearing flesh as her body twisted into something unrecognizable. She gasped, crumpling to her knees. Her fingers bent backward, bones reforming with a wet crunch, her skin splitting and mending in gleaming ribbons of light. Her silver eyes flew open, wide with terror, as the power surged.

Gasps echoed around her.

Then silence.

When Ismeria rose again, it was not on two feet but four.

She was wolf.

Larger than any they’d ever seen, her pelt a luminous silver-white, shifting like silk in the moonlight. Her eyes blazed with moonfire, so bright they stung to look at. She stood tall on the pedestal, radiant—divine.

And yet, there was fury.

Her wolf was not docile. It had not been tamed by ritual or prophecy. It raged.

Aeron stepped forward, cautious, his hand raised. “Ismeria,” he said softly. “It’s me. Breathe. Listen to me—”

She lunged.

Her claws tore across his chest, a spray of crimson slashing through the silver light. Aeron stumbled backward, clutching the wound, the blood spilling hot onto the ceremonial stone. Panic rippled like wildfire.

“Seize her!” Alpha Magnus roared.

The Elders raised their hands. Words in an ancient tongue spilled from their lips, and silver chains of light burst into existence, coiling around Ismeria’s body. She howled—a sound of pain and betrayal—thrashing wildly as the bonds wrapped tighter, searing her flesh. Her radiant form dimmed, the wild power pulled downward, smothered beneath layers of enchantment.

She collapsed, forced into her human body.

Her gown hung in tatters, her skin dull, the silver in her veins flickering like dying stars. The grove fell into stunned silence. Even the torches seemed to falter.

Alpha Magnus stared down at her, expression carved from stone.

“She cannot be allowed to live,” he said coldly.

“She must be given,” one Elder added. “Let her blood appease the Goddess before she brings ruin upon us all.”

The wolves did not argue.

Two warriors stepped forward, silent and expressionless, and dragged her limp form across the dais. Her head lolled, hair dragging in the dirt, blood staining the edges of her torn gown. Somewhere in the crowd, a child whimpered.

Ismeria was barely conscious. Her thoughts were dimming, her body heavy. Only one word clung to the edge of her fading mind, repeated like a curse itself.

“Monster.”

And then the dark swallowed her whole.