Ivy Mason had waited her whole life for the mating ceremony. She stood at the edge of the clearing, bare feet pressed into cold soil,
moonlight sliding over her skin like judgment. Around her, the pack formed a wide circle. No one spoke. No one smiled. The air carried the sharp scent of pine, sweat, and anticipation Tonight was the night the moon chose.
At eighteen, every unmated wolf stood before the pack and waited for instinct to speak. A pull. A spark. A claim. Ivy had imagined it a thousand times. She imagined warmth in her chest. A certainty. Someone stepping forward and seeing her.
Instead, she felt nothing. The silence stretched too long. Whispers began. Low. Cutting. “She’s still empty.” “No scent shift.” “The moon rejected her.”
Ivy swallowed and lifted her chin. She had always been smaller than the others. Quieter. Her wolf never pressed close to the surface like theirs did. But she had trained. She had bled for the pack. She belonged here. Didn’t she?
The Alpha stepped forward. Rowan Blackmoor. His gaze was hard, unreadable. “Ivy Mason,” he said. “Step into the circle.”
Her heart hammered as she obeyed. The earth felt wrong beneath her feet. Too warm. Almost alive.
Rowan raised his hand to the sky. “Moon Mother, witness this rite.” The pack echoed the words. Nothing answered. A murmur rippled through the clearing. Rowan’s jaw tightened. “Shift.” Ivy tried.
She reached for the familiar place inside her where her wolf slept. She pushed. Pulled. Begged.
Pain flared through her spine. Her vision blurred. She cried out as something twisted the wrong way, fire instead of bone. She collapsed to her knees.
Gasps broke out. “This isn’t normal.” “She’s broken.” “No wolf does that.” The word hit harder than the pain. Broken.
Ivy pressed her palms into the dirt, breath coming fast. The ground vibrated beneath her fingers. Just for a second. A pulse. Like a heartbeat that wasn’t hers.
Rowan took a step back. Fear flickered across his face before he masked it. “The ritual is complete,” he said sharply. “The moon has spoken.”
“No,” Ivy whispered. “Please. I just need time.”
“The pack cannot carry weakness,” Rowan replied. “Nor abominations.” The word rang in her skull.
Two enforcers grabbed her arms and dragged her toward the treeline. The pack didn’t stop them. Faces she’d grown up with turned away. Others watched with open disgust.
Her mother was not there. She never was. At the edge of the forest, they shoved Ivy forward.
“Run,” one of them muttered. “Before the Alpha changes his mind.” Ivy stumbled into the darkness. The forest swallowed her whole.
She ran until her lungs burned and her legs failed. When she finally collapsed beside an ancient oak, the world spun and went black. She woke to heat. Not fever. Not pain. Power.
The earth beneath her glowed faintly, veins of green light threading through the roots. Ivy gasped and scrambled back, but the glow followed her movement, responding like it recognized her.
A voice stirred deep within her. Not a wolf. Not human. Awake, child of soil and moon. Her heart thundered. “What am I?” she whispered.
The ground answered. You are what they
feared And far more than they ever deserved.
