Updated Mar 22, 2026 • ~9 min read
Chapter 5: Denial and Research
Astrid spends three days locked in the library.
Reading everything.
Moira’s journals. Historical texts. Pack records.
Trying to understand what she’s inherited.
Who she’s supposed to be.
The evidence is overwhelming.
She finds Elara’s full journal.
Not just excerpts. The whole thing.
Three hundred pages of the original Midnight Duchess’s life.
Written in elegant script. Dated 1724-1756.
Astrid reads compulsively.
*January 1724: Father has promised me to Lord Ashford. A match for status, not love. I feel nothing for the man. Cold in all ways.*
*March 1724: I met a creature in the woods today. Massive wolf with golden eyes. It watched me for an hour. Unafraid. Almost… curious. I should have been terrified. Instead, I felt recognized.*
*May 1724: The wolf appeared again. This time, it transformed. Into a man. Beautiful. Terrifying. He said his name is Aldric. That I belong to him. To his pack. I told him I belong to no one. He smiled and said, “Not yet.”*
The courtship detailed.
Aldric pursuing Elara despite her engagement.
Proving werewolves exist. Explaining pack law.
The mate bond forming against her will.
Just like Astrid and Magnus.
History repeating.
*July 1724: I broke my engagement. Father disowned me. Society shuns me. I don’t care. When Aldric touches me, the world makes sense. Like I was born to find him. Born to be his.*
*October 1724: We bonded tonight. Under full moon. His pack witnessed. The magic is real. I feel his wolf now. Always. In my blood. My bones. My soul. We are one.*
Astrid’s hands shake reading it.
This is her ancestor.
Same bloodline. Same eyes. Same fate.
Elara’s words feel prophetic.
*December 1725: I discovered my power tonight. Aldric’s wolves challenged his leadership. I commanded them to stop. They did. Instantly. Aldric says this is duchess power. The ability to rule packs. I am not just his mate. I am their queen.*
Duchess power.
Thea mentioned it.
The ability to command wolves.
Is it real?
More entries.
Elara learning to use her power.
Uniting warring packs. Creating peace.
Building Ashenmoor as neutral territory.
*March 1730: I am with child. Aldric is overjoyed. Says our heir will unite packs forever. Human and wolf. Power and wisdom. The perfect balance.*
But the next entry is different.
*August 1730: I lost the baby. Aldric is devastated. Blames himself. Says wolf genetics are incompatible with human. The bond is cursed.*
They tried for years.
Multiple pregnancies. All failed.
Until finally:
*January 1756: I am with child again. Seventh pregnancy. I’m older now. Weaker. The physicians say this birth will kill me. Aldric begs me not to carry to term. But I must. Our pack needs an heir.*
The final entry.
*August 1756: Labor has begun. I know I won’t survive. But the baby must. She must. I’ve written everything. The prophecy. The power. The future. If she dies too… Aldric will go feral. The packs will splinter. War will come. My daughter must live. She must.*
Dated the day Elara died.
The baby didn’t survive.
Mother and child both lost.
Aldric went feral.
Killed half his pack before being stopped.
The prophecy was Elara’s dying words.
Desperate hope that her bloodline would return.
Fix what her death broke.
Astrid closes the journal.
Crying.
For Elara. For Aldric. For the tragedy.
But also for herself.
Because she’s the answer to that desperate hope.
The silver-eyed daughter who returned.
Carrying the weight of 300 years of waiting.
Expected to fix it all.
No pressure.
She finds portraits next.
Stored in the attic.
Dozens of Blackwood women.
All silver-eyed. All beautiful. All dead young.
None of them bonded.
Moira wrote notes on the back of each portrait.
*Catherine Blackwood, 1789-1810. Refused the bond. Died alone.*
*Margaret Blackwood, 1842-1869. Refused the bond. Died alone.*
*Victoria Blackwood, 1901-1934. Refused the bond. Died alone.*
On and on.
Generations of Blackwood women.
All rejecting destiny.
All dying before forty.
Thea was right.
Refusing the bond is fatal.
Slowly. Painfully. Inevitable.
Then she finds one different portrait.
Hidden behind the others.
*Elena Blackwood, 1943-1969.*
Astrid’s grandmother.
She never met her. Elena died before Astrid was born.
The note on back:
*Accepted the bond. Mated to an alpha. Happy. Had one child (my daughter). Killed by rival pack during territory war. Age 26.*
Astrid’s hands shake.
Her grandmother bonded.
Had a daughter. Astrid’s mother.
Then was murdered.
Just like Astrid’s parents.
The Blackwood curse.
Bond and die. Refuse and die.
Either way: death.
She researches her parents next.
Finds their letters in Moira’s files.
They knew.
God, they knew about werewolves.
*Dear Aunt Moira,*
*We’ve discovered the truth about our family. The Blackwood legacy. The wolves. The prophecy. We need to protect Astrid. She can never know. Never inherit. Please, update your will. Leave the estate to charity. Not to her. Don’t let her into this world. It killed your mother. It will kill her too.*
*- Sarah Blackwood, 2004*
Moira’s response.
*Dear Sarah,*
*I understand your fear. But prophecy can’t be avoided. Only delayed. Astrid is the silver-eyed heir. Fate will find her regardless. Better she’s prepared than ambushed.*
*The estate stays with bloodline. When I die, it goes to her. I’ve arranged training resources. Pack contacts. Everything she’ll need to survive.*
*Don’t hate me for this. I’m trying to save her. By giving her the tools to fight.*
*- Moira, 2004*
Three years later, Astrid’s parents died.
“Car accident” in Scotland.
Near Ashenmoor.
They were coming to confront Moira.
To demand she change the will.
Fenrir’s pack intercepted them.
Killed them.
Made it look like an accident.
Because they were trying to protect their daughter.
And died for it.
Astrid’s sobbing now.
Full breakdown.
Her whole life is a lie.
Parents died protecting her from this.
And she walked right into it anyway.
Inherited the estate. Accepted the legacy.
Put herself exactly where they died trying to prevent.
A sound downstairs.
Footsteps.
She didn’t hear anyone enter.
Didn’t lock the doors.
Stupid.
Always lock the doors.
She grabs a letter opener.
Pathetic weapon.
But better than nothing.
Creeps to the library door.
Listens.
Multiple footsteps.
Voices.
Arguing.
“She needs to know the truth—”
“Not like this. She’s fragile—”
“She’s not fragile. She’s Blackwood. She’s stronger than you think.”
Astrid recognizes the voices.
Magnus. Soren. Vega.
They’re in her house.
Again.
Without permission.
Again.
She storms downstairs.
“Get out!”
They stop.
All three looking guilty.
“Astrid—” Magnus starts.
“OUT! I didn’t invite you in!”
“The door was unlocked—”
“So?! That doesn’t mean enter!”
Magnus raises his hands.
Placating.
“You’ve been alone for three days. We were worried.”
“I’m researching. Learning. Like you said I should.”
“What did you find?”
“Everything. Elara’s journal. My grandmother’s death. My parents’ letters. All of it.”
Magnus’s expression softens.
“I’m sorry. I know it’s painful—”
“You have no idea. None of you do. My entire family died because of this bloodline. Because of prophecy. Because of mate bonds and pack wars and supernatural bullshit!”
She’s crying again.
Angry tears.
“My parents tried to save me. Died trying. And I inherited anyway. Walked right into the trap they died preventing. I’m living their nightmare.”
Vega steps forward.
Careful. Gentle.
“Your parents loved you. They did what they thought was right. But avoiding fate doesn’t work. It just delays the inevitable.”
“Then maybe I should just let Fenrir take me. Get it over with. Stop fighting what’s going to happen anyway.”
Magnus growls.
Actually growls.
“Don’t say that. Don’t even think it.”
“Why not? If I’m doomed either way—”
“Because Fenrir will use you. Hurt you. You’re a tool to him, not a mate. I won’t allow that.”
“You don’t get to decide what I allow!”
Silence.
Tense. Dangerous.
Finally Soren speaks.
“You’re right. We overstepped. Coming here uninvited. Trying to manage you. That’s not how this works.”
He looks at Magnus.
“She’s not pack. She’s duchess. Higher authority than alpha. We should be following her lead, not giving her orders.”
Magnus’s jaw tightens.
But he nods.
“You’re right. I apologize, Astrid. I’m trying to protect you, but I’m being controlling. That’s not fair.”
He steps back.
Gives her space.
“What do you need from us? Answers? Privacy? Training? Name it.”
Astrid considers.
What does she need?
“I need to understand the power. The duchess authority. If it’s real, I need to know how to use it. Because if I’m making this choice, I’m making it informed.”
“We can teach you.”
“No. You can’t. You’re biased. You want me to choose you. Everything you teach will be slanted toward that outcome.”
Magnus can’t deny it.
“Then who?”
“Odin. The neutral elder. I want him to train me. Explain the power without agenda.”
“Odin doesn’t train anyone. He’s a judge, not a teacher—”
“Then I’ll convince him. Where is he?”
Magnus and Vega exchange looks.
“Odin lives in the Northlands. Three days’ journey. Dangerous territory. Neutral ground means no pack protection.”
“Then I go alone.”
“Absolutely not—”
“I’m not asking permission. I’m going. With or without your approval.”
Magnus looks ready to argue.
Then stops.
Remembers.
She’s not pack. She’s higher authority.
He has to respect her choice.
Even if he hates it.
“Fine. But take Vega. She’s neutral enough. Daughter of a rogue, mated to Main Pack. She can navigate both worlds.”
Astrid looks at Vega.
“Would you come?”
Vega smiles.
“Absolutely. Road trip with the legendary duchess? Wouldn’t miss it.”
They leave tomorrow.
Early morning. Long drive.
Magnus is unhappy.
Pacing. Growling. Radiating displeasure.
But not forbidding it.
Progress.
“Be careful,” he says before leaving. “Fenrir has spies everywhere. If he knows you’re traveling…”
“Then he’ll follow. Let him. I have questions for him too.”
“Astrid—”
“I’m meeting both alphas on neutral ground. Getting real answers. Then I’ll decide. Isn’t that what you want? An informed choice?”
“I want you safe.”
“Safe is an illusion. I was safe in London. It didn’t stop fate from finding me.”
He leaves reluctantly.
Pack following.
Astrid watches from the window.
Magnus pauses at the tree line.
Looks back.
The longing in his expression is clear.
Even from here.
He doesn’t want to leave her.
The bond pulling.
She feels it too.
Uncomfortable truth.
But there.
Undeniable.
Real.
Tomorrow, she meets Odin.
Gets real answers.
No pack politics. No alpha agendas.
Just truth.
Then she’ll decide.
Magnus or Fenrir.
Life or death.
Queen or corpse.
Fate is patient.
But the clock is ticking.
And she’s running out of time.
Three weeks left.
Then choice becomes unavoidable.
And everything changes.
Forever.
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