The Reborn She-wolf

Back at the Ashford Heir estate, I stepped into the Sycamore Wing, my so-called home. The room felt like a tomb-cold, empty, untouched. Theodore only graced this place on the seventh of each month for his "duty," nothing more. I pulled out a small box and tucked the broken prayer beads inside. I had to move fast, let go of every obsession tying me to this life, so I could cross the River of Souls free and unburdened.

My eyes caught on something atop my vanity-a memory projector, a rare treasure from the Western Territories. I gave it a gentle twist, and a copper disc flickered to life, casting Theodore's shimmering image. His voice echoed softly. "Daphne, been enjoying your little outings?"

Years ago, I'd paid a fortune for a master craftsman to forge this "mirror puppet." The Theodore in the projection was identical to the real one, down to the tear-shaped mole by his eye. Staring at it, my eyes burned, memories crashing over me like a tidal wave.

I'm Daphne Sinclair, second daughter of House Sinclair. Growing up, I was a wild spirit-racing horses, knocking back drinks, the she-wolf everyone called a troublemaker. Theodore, the Ashford Heir, was the opposite: poised, restrained, a polished wolf who joined the pack's council at thirteen, praised by every noble in Sylvoth Town as a gentleman among wolves.

Five years ago, I wandered into a hunting ground by mistake. Theodore saved me from a charging beast, and from that moment, my heart was his. I swore I'd win him, this untouchable star everyone admired. But he brushed me off, his eyes cool and distant. "Daphne, I seek a she-wolf gentle as an orchid, serene and refined."

So I tamed myself. I traded my fiery steeds and silver spears for needlework and etiquette, transforming from a reckless she-wolf into a proper lady. When I finally felt worthy of him, word came that Theodore was to form a sacred bond with Cordelia.

My heart shattered. I buried my feelings deep.

But the night before their binding ceremony, Cordelia came to me, tears streaming. "Daphne, I love another. Please, take my place and bond with Theodore."

My heart trembled. That buried spark of hope clawed its way free, and I agreed, half in a daze. Cordelia fled Sylvoth Town that night. I donned the ceremonial robes and veil, stepping into her place to bind myself to Theodore.

Somehow, the story twisted. Everyone whispered I'd driven Cordelia away, that I'd schemed to tear apart the pack's golden pair. Theodore's hatred for me took root then, cold and unrelenting.

Tears spilled as I brushed my fingers over the projection's ghostly image. For so many nights, this had been my only comfort. But now, I saw it for what it was-another chain of my hopeless love for him.

My fingers hovered over the projector. It was time to let go.

Just as I lifted it to smash it, the door crashed open. Theodore's voice cut through, sharp as frost. "Daphne, you've lost it! Making a puppet of me to soothe your lonely nights?"

I spun around, meeting his ice-cold glare. His face was a storm cloud as he stormed over and smashed the projector to the floor. "Stop with these pathetic tricks," he snarled. "From the day you schemed to drive Cordelia away, all we've done is torment each other."

Moonlight spilled through the window, casting me in a lonely glow. Theodore stormed out, his words-"torment each other"-stabbing like icicles, leaving me bleeding inside.

After what felt like forever, I gathered the shattered projector and placed it beside the broken beads. My heart felt hollow, but a faint, relieved smile curved my lips.

One obsession held, one wound gained.

Some things, I realized, were meant to be let go.