Aria didn’t leave the council hall during the recess. She couldn’t. Her limbs felt too heavy, her chest too tight. Every breath scraped against the walls of her lungs like she was breathing splinters. She sat where the Elders had left her—on the cold stone bench beneath the crescent insignia—feeling like an exhibit. Or a relic.
The same bench she’d once sat on the day she was declared Luna. Back then, Kael had taken her hand beneath the table, squeezing it when the Elders tested her strength with veiled questions and probing glances. Back then, they’d all looked at her with a mix of reverence and fear.
Now, they didn’t look at her at all.
Only the clerk remained, head bowed over parchment, recording everything with a quill that scratched louder than her heartbeat.
Footsteps echoed in the corridor.
Aria sat up straighter. For one fragile second, she thought maybe—just maybe—Kael would return first. Sit beside her. Say something. Anything.
But it wasn’t him.
Zara stepped through the archway, her cloak pulled tight around her shoulders, eyes darting to the scribe. “You shouldn’t be in here alone,” she murmured, crossing the room with long strides. “They left you like this?”
“I didn’t want to leave.”
“Aria…” Zara’s voice cracked. “This is insane. Everyone knows the bond doesn’t just break like that. Not unless something interferes. Or unless—”
She stopped herself. Bit her lip.
“Unless the Alpha turns his back on it willingly,” Aria finished for her.
Zara sat beside her, jaw clenched. “You should never have been summoned like this. You’re still the Luna.”
“Not for much longer.”
“Don’t say that.”
Aria looked down at her hands. Her skin was pale, her knuckles white where she gripped her own wrists. She couldn’t stop shaking. “He didn’t even look at me when he said it. Like I was nothing.”
Zara was quiet for a moment. Then: “He’s not nothing to you. That’s the worst part.”
The doors creaked again. Zara tensed.
This time, it was Kael.
He strode back into the room with the grace of someone used to power. Someone used to getting his way. His cloak swirled behind him like smoke. He didn’t even glance at Aria. Not until he saw Zara.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, voice like gravel.
Zara rose, defiant. “Neither should she. And yet here we are.”
Kael’s jaw ticked, but he said nothing more. He took his place at the right side of the chamber, just as the Elders returned in a quiet procession. Their expressions were carefully blank.
“Alpha Draven. Luna Vale.” Elder Brynn reclaimed her seat. “The Council has reviewed the petition for dissolution and found it procedurally valid. However, before a ruling is made, each party may make one final statement. This will be recorded as part of the permanent judgment record.”
Kael nodded. “Understood.”
Brynn gestured to Aria. “You may begin.”
She stood slowly, smoothing the velvet folds of her cloak. She didn’t look at the Elders. She didn’t even look at Kael.
She looked inward. Into the place where the bond still lived, frail and flickering like a candle about to die.
“I didn’t choose this bond,” she began, voice quiet but unwavering. “The moon did. The magic did. The stars aligned us and burned that alignment into our blood. I didn’t ask to be your Luna. I became your Luna—because I believed in what we had. Because I believed in you.”
A long silence.
“You once told me I was the only calm in your storm. Do you remember that, Kael?” She turned to him, and for the first time, his eyes met hers. “You said the bond was the one thing that made you feel whole.”
He didn’t respond. Didn’t flinch. But his gaze faltered. Just slightly.
Aria let the silence stretch.
“I don’t know what Evelyn’s return means. I don’t know what you feel. Maybe you don’t either. But I know this: bonds don’t weaken on their own. Something twisted ours. Something tore it down from the inside out. And if you let this happen—if you let the Council strip it from us without even looking back—then I’ll know it was never real to you.”
She stepped back.
And when Kael rose, it felt like thunder in the stillness.
“I do not deny the bond was once strong,” he said, facing the Elders. “But what we feel is not enough anymore. The Luna is right—something has changed. Whether it is magic or mistrust or fate turning its back, the result is the same. This connection no longer serves the pack.”
Aria’s hands curled at her sides. No longer serves the pack. That was all she was now—a function. A failed political union.
“I bear her no ill will,” Kael continued. “But I cannot lead while tethered to something that no longer aligns with who I am. Or what I need.”
Zara inhaled sharply.
The Elders conferred in low voices, parchment whispering between them.
Aria’s ears rang. Her vision tunneled.
This wasn’t happening.
This couldn’t be happening.
And then Elder Brynn raised her voice one final time.
“The Council will deliver its ruling tomorrow at first light. You are both dismissed.”
The silence that followed was worse than any verdict.
Kael turned without a word.
And Aria stood in his shadow, watching him walk away—again—knowing tomorrow, the bond that had once felt eternal would be judged like a crime.
