The sun broke across the mountains like a vow being kept. The day StoneRidge had dreaded—and hoped for—had arrived. For the first time in its long, brutal history, the Alpha seat stood empty not because of bloodshed, but because someone walked away.
Kael had left. Quietly. Without a word to the press. No ceremony. Just a final signature and a packed bag. And now, the town waited—shoulders tense, hearts unsure—wondering who would lead them forward.
Aria stood at the edge of the square, her hands buried deep in her cloak. She hadn’t come to claim anything. But she also hadn’t come to look away.
She watched as names were whispered across the gathering. Zara. Linnea. Even the omega Daryl, who had risen with sharp words and gentler hands when the violence broke months ago.
But then someone called a name that froze the air:
“Calla.”
A hush swept through the crowd.
Aria’s daughter stepped forward. Just five years old—but holding herself with a gravity no child should. She wore a silver pin shaped like a moonleaf—Aria’s old brooch—and her storm-gray eyes took in the world like she already knew how to carry it.
The council elder smiled and bent low. “You don’t have to say anything. We only wanted the wolves to see you.”
Calla nodded. “I know.”
A murmur rippled through the gathering—wolves elbowing each other, whispering ‘She has the look’, ‘She has her mother’s fire’, ‘She’s already more Alpha than Kael ever was.’
But Aria stepped forward, lifting her voice for all to hear. “She’s not ready to lead. Let her be a child. Let her run and climb trees and ask impossible questions.”
Calla grinned. “And maybe fly.”
Laughter warmed the morning air. The tension broke like ice underfoot.
The council nodded, thoughtful.
Zara stepped beside Aria. “You know, you could say something now and they’d vote you in before the moon rose.”
“I already did,” Aria said. “I just didn’t use words.”
As the morning stretched into day, StoneRidge held its first open forum—voices raised not in challenge, but in collaboration. Wolves of every rank, every past, stood shoulder to shoulder. Not all agreed. But all were heard.
And when the new Alpha was named—Zara, by overwhelming consensus—Aria clapped the loudest.
Later that evening, she and Calla walked the old river path one last time. The wind hummed through the reeds, and the sky burned with orange and violet.
“Do you miss being Luna?” Calla asked.
“No,” Aria answered honestly. “Because I’m something else now.”
“What?”
Aria smiled. “Free.”
They reached the cliff edge where the river dropped into mist. Calla ran ahead, laughing, fearless. And Aria stood still for just a moment longer, breathing in the new air of a StoneRidge that had changed—not because of magic or blood or fate…
…but because someone dared to break the cycle.
Someone dared to leave.
