The letter arrived wrapped in oilcloth and sealed in wax the color of bone.
Zara found it tucked between stacked firewood outside their cabin—no messenger in sight, no trace of who had delivered it. But Aria didn’t need a name.
She recognized the sigil pressed into the wax immediately: a crescent over crossed spears.
StoneRidge.
Her hand paused over the seal.
StoneRidge was a powerful pack three territories east—one of the few who had never submitted fully to the High Council’s rule. They kept to themselves. Fought hard. Negotiated harder.
And they didn’t send letters unless they wanted something.
Zara eyed her. “Open it.”
Aria broke the seal with one sharp movement.
Inside was a single sheet of thick parchment, handwritten in deep green ink.
To Aria Vale,
We have followed the echoes of your story. We have watched SilverCrest choose hesitation where they should have offered protection. We know what it means to be rejected.
We also know what it means to rise anyway.
StoneRidge offers you sanctuary—
Unconditional, permanent, and without allegiance to Draven or the High Council.
You may come alone or with those you trust.
But should you choose us, you will have a place not just to hide… but to rule.
—Alpha Myra of StoneRidge
Aria read it twice.
Then a third time.
By the end, her hands were shaking.
Zara took the letter from her and scanned it silently.
“Well, that’s not subtle.”
“No,” Aria said, voice low. “It’s not.”
They laid the letter on the table and stared at it like it might start speaking again.
Zara crossed her arms. “Do you think they’re serious?”
Aria nodded. “They wouldn’t risk offering this unless they were.”
Zara raised a brow. “And what would they get in return?”
Aria hesitated. “An alliance. A Luna. A child with Draven bloodline and council immunity. Maybe leverage against Kael.”
Zara’s jaw clenched. “So it’s political.”
“Everything is,” Aria murmured.
She looked down at the parchment again.
StoneRidge wasn’t just offering her safety.
They were offering her sovereignty.
A future where she wasn’t the rejected Luna or the rogue mother.
She’d be a queen.
The next day, the letter burned like wildfire through SilverCrest.
Aria didn’t speak of it, but word spread quickly—Zara suspected it had been leaked, likely by an elder or a courier with too many ears and too little loyalty.
By afternoon, the whispers had shifted.
“They offered her territory?”
“A ruling seat, not just sanctuary?”
“Is she actually considering it?”
The mood in the dining hall was sharper, like everyone had something to lose.
Because they did.
They were realizing Aria wasn’t a guest anymore.
She was wanted.
Zara leaned in during lunch and whispered, “Thorn’s going to call you in.”
“He should.”
“You going to accept the offer?”
“I haven’t decided.”
Zara tilted her head. “You have.”
Aria didn’t deny it.
Thorn summoned her that evening.
The council chamber was quiet, fire crackling low in the hearth. No other elders. No guards. Just the old Alpha and Aria, seated across from one another like generals at a ceasefire table.
He gestured to the chair across from him. “You received the letter.”
“You heard.”
“I hear everything,” Thorn said. “And I know StoneRidge. They’re not bluffing.”
“No,” Aria agreed. “They’re offering me power.”
“And what does SilverCrest offer you?”
Aria met his eyes. “A memory. A half-loyal pack. A name that only recently stopped spitting when they said mine.”
Thorn’s jaw twitched. “And yet you stayed.”
“For the child,” she said. “For the only home I ever knew.”
“And now?”
Aria didn’t answer.
So Thorn did. “Now you’ve outgrown us.”
She said nothing.
Thorn leaned forward. “If you leave, it weakens us. StoneRidge is powerful. But your presence here keeps Kael from pressing. You leave, and he might follow. Or he might start claiming pieces of you.”
“He already lost me.”
“Not to him,” Thorn said. “To us.”
A long silence passed.
Then Aria said, “I don’t owe you loyalty. I gave it once. And you let the council tear me in half.”
Thorn’s voice was soft. “And still, we need you.”
She stood. “Then you should have acted like it when I bled.”
Zara didn’t speak when Aria returned to the cabin.
She just handed her a cup of tea and waited.
Finally, Aria sat.
And whispered, “I think I want to go.”
Zara raised a brow. “You think?”
“I want to want to stay,” Aria said. “But SilverCrest isn’t mine. Not really. I’ve earned a place here, but I haven’t been welcomed. Not fully. Not without conditions.”
“And StoneRidge?”
“They’d give me land. Authority. A future without Kael’s shadow.”
Zara sipped her tea. “Then what’s stopping you?”
Aria looked down at her belly. “Leaving would make it real.”
Zara nodded slowly. “And maybe… that’s what you need.”
That night, the tether pulsed again.
But softer this time.
Not desperate.
Not angry.
Just… steady.
Kael wasn’t reaching for her.
He was thinking about her.
And she could feel it.
His thoughts were quiet, but they carried a weight that pressed into her like a question:
“Are you gone already?”
Aria didn’t answer.
She lay in the dark, one hand over her belly, the other fisted around the pendant from Milo.
The baby shifted, then stilled.
Listening.
Always listening.
The next morning, she went to the high cliffs.
Alone.
The snow had melted back enough to reveal the black stone beneath. From here, she could see all the way down into the eastern valley—the border StoneRidge would send riders through if she said yes.
She stood at the edge.
Breathing.
Waiting.
Then, without thinking, she whispered:
“I don’t want to run.”
The wind carried her voice away.
But something—someone—heard it.
Because when she turned, she saw Zara waiting at the treeline, holding another letter.
This one bore Kael’s crest.
