Your Luna’s Final Goodbye

"There's no one left to indulge your whims."

Emory’s words reminded me of something else he’d once spat at me: "You're nothing but a parasite."

It was our wedding night. I was dressed in the most beautiful gown, my heart full of hope as I waited for him. The Blackwood Pack had just survived a near-total collapse, and I was the one who proposed the alliance, offering the strength of my Moon-Glow Pack to help them rebuild. I thought he would at least be kind to me for that. I thought we could learn to love each other. After all, we were fated mates, chosen by the Moon Goddess herself.

But on our wedding night, I learned how wrong I was.

"Even if you are my Luna, I will never love you," Emory had said, his eyes cold as he looked at my ornate gown. "When the Moon-Glow Pack weakens, what will you have left to lean on?" "You're a useless parasite."

And his words turned out to be a curse.

Three years later, the Sacred Moonstone of my pack began to dim, its power fading. My parents stood vigil by it day and night, pouring their own life force into it to sustain its last glimmer of light. Desperate for Emory’s help, I drugged him. That night, Leo was conceived.

Finally, for the sake of his child, Emory agreed to help. But when I rushed back to my pack lands, ecstatic to tell my parents the news, I was met with a sight that would haunt me for the rest of my life. My parents stood hand in hand before the dying Moonstone. They poured the last of their life force into it, their bodies turning translucent until they dissolved into motes of moonlight.

"Liliana," my mother's voice whispered on the wind, "you have to live on."

I collapsed before the empty altar and sobbed, the baby in my womb kicking as if it could feel my sorrow. The grief nearly broke my mind. I needed intensive treatment, but for the baby's sake, I refused any medication, choosing instead to suppress my own wolf to endure the pain.

Ten months later, Leo was born healthy. I held him with a joyful heart, thinking I finally had a family again, someone who was part of me, someone who would finally love me. But the first full sentence he ever learned was a mimicry of Emory's voice: "Mommy is a parasite who lives off Daddy."

Then Ophelia appeared, and just like Emory, he always chose her side. He always abandoned me. When I was trapped in the snow, slowly losing consciousness, I finally understood. The child I had fought so hard to bring into this world wasn't my safe harbor. He was another knife in my heart.

So I made my decision. Emory and Leo—I was done with them both.

"Why don't you tell your family about your illness?" the witch had asked me once.

"My family is already dead," I had replied calmly.

I started to clear out my things. The gorgeous gowns in my closet, all of them—gone. The pearl necklace in my jewelry box, the first gift Emory ever gave me—tossed out. In my desk drawer was a fox-fur cloak I had woven myself, meant as a gift for our tenth anniversary. It was clear now that anniversary would never come. I threw it all into the fireplace.

Last was the painting of our mating ceremony, commissioned from my favorite artist. In it, Emory looked handsome and powerful, while I smiled, my face radiant with happiness. It was all a lie. I had destroyed this painting countless times, tearing it to shreds after every fight, only to secretly piece it back together in the dead of night. The servants were used to it.

"Here we go again," I heard one whisper outside the door. "The Luna is destroying the painting to get the Alpha's attention."

"Just ignore her. She'll glue it back together herself anyway."

I was used to their scorn. I took the canvas from the wall and, without a moment's hesitation, tossed it into the hearth. The flames instantly devoured it, the paint releasing a bitter, acrid smell.

"My Goddess!" the servants gasped. "If it burns, it's gone for good!"

"What's gone for good?" A familiar voice cut through the air.

I turned to see Emory standing in the doorway, his face a thunderous mask.