The first morning light slowly awakened the Moonveil Pack.
The golden hue stretching across the eastern sky chased away the remnants of the night, while the rich, warm scent of freshly cooked food drifted through the crisp air.
Somewhere, hands coaxed flames to life from embers.
Somewhere else, dishes prepared deep into the night received their final, careful seasoning.
People hurried about—hanging damp clothes in the pale morning light or carving large blocks of meat for the upcoming feast.
Inside the sprawling kitchen of a grand house in Moonveil, Aria was already lost in motion since dawn.
She tipped a measure of spices into the oil bubbling fiercely on the stove.
Sizzle!
A wave of hot steam rushed up, kissing her face.
Her eyelids drifted shut for a fraction of a second, and she stirred the spices evenly with a wooden spoon.
Right then, a servant hauled a heavy, fresh pile of meat, dumping it close to her station.
“Aria, let me know if the meat runs short.
I’ll fetch more from the cellar.” “Mmm,” Aria murmured, a brief acknowledgment.
Her hands never paused.
As the spices mingled, the raw meat hit the scorching oil.
Sizzrr…
A deep, savory aroma surged through the kitchen, thick and heavy.
Aria’s eyes swept over the prepared dishes, checking everything methodically.
Was there too little salt in the stew?
Had the spices overpowered the broth?
Which dish needed to be plated first?
Nothing slipped past her watchful gaze.
“Hurry up,” an elderly maid snapped from across the kitchen, her voice sharp.
“Every single dish must be laid out in the dining hall before they wake.” “Understood.” Aria began arranging the food onto wide serving trays.
One.
Two.
Three.
And finally, the heavy pot of roasted meat.
She hoisted the trays one by one, carrying them steadily toward the grand dining hall.
Within moments, the long dining table groaned under the weight of rich dishes.
She cast one last, sweeping look around.
Had she missed anything?
Her eyes searched the corners.
Ah.
The meat.
A portion was still left in the kitchen.
Aria spun around instantly.
Then— Tap…
tap…
tap…
Her footsteps froze dead in her tracks.
It was a rhythm she knew too well, echoing down the hall.
Aria lifted her gaze toward the doorway.
In a heartbeat, the vibrant hum of the kitchen vanished entirely, as if the bustling life of a moment ago had been nothing more than a ghost.
Aria recognized that sound in her bones.
Miss Selina had arrived.
Panicking inwardly, she rushed back, scooped the remaining meat into a heavy bowl, the steam scalding her skin.
She gripped the blazing-hot bowl and hurried toward the dining hall.
But just as she was a few strides away from the table— A maid deliberately shot her leg out, planting her boot right in Aria’s path.
Aria’s foot caught the trap.
Her balance tipped, shattering in an instant.
“Ah—!” Thud!
The scalding bowl crashed against the stone floor.
The glass shattered into a thousand jagged pieces.
Boiling broth splashed violently over her bare hands.
Pain struck her so sharply it stole her breath, swallowing the cry clawing at her throat.
Slowly, she forced her gaze downward.
The broken glass.
The scattered meat mixed with shards.
And the bright, fresh crimson leaking from her skin.
Aria bit down hard on her lower lip, tasting iron.
“Forgive me, Miss Selina.” A pair of expensive, pristine shoes came to a halt beside the mess.
Aria kept her eyes lowered.
Selina stood in silence, letting the tension stretch.
Then, slowly, she knelt.
Her manicured fingers hooked under Aria’s chin, forcing her face upward.
A cold, delicate smile bloomed on Selina’s lips.
“When a servant forgets her rightful place,” Selina whispered, her voice like ice sliding over glass, “it is always my duty to remind her.” Aria’s eyes burned with pain.
And fury.
But she swallowed both down into the dark corners of her soul.
Stay calm.
The less I speak, the lighter the chains.
The thought was so deeply carved into her mind that it felt like breathing.
If I fight back, the storm will only crush me.
Selina released her chin with a flick of her fingers.
“Today is far too special a day.
I refuse to let anyone sour my mood.” Aria remained frozen on her knees.
Selina glanced down at the ruined food and broken glass.
“And yet…
if I simply pardon a maid who soils my feast,” her smile widened, cruel and pleased, “tomorrow, every other servant will assume they can walk all over me.” Aria stayed silent.
“So, I’ll grant you a special lesson today.” Selina pointed a slender finger at the mess on the floor.
“You will pay the toll for your own clumsiness.” Aria’s chest tightened.
Selina’s voice dropped to a chilling whisper.
“You will eat the food you spilled.” Aria’s heart curled inward, cold and heavy.
“And once you are finished, you will scour this entire floor until it shines.” Aria slowly lowered her head.
“Eat,” Selina commanded.
A numbing frost crawled through Aria’s veins.
Yet, she did not rise.
Trembling, she reached out her bare hand and scooped up the meat from the floor.
Unbeknownst to her at first, razor-sharp shards of glass were embedded in the pieces.
A deep slice tore open her palm.
Blood welled up, hot and bright.
But she did not dare pull away.
One piece.
Another.
And another.
She forced them past her lips.
The glass tore at the soft skin of her mouth, blending the metallic taste of her own blood with the meal.
And Selina watched.
There was no trace of mercy in her eyes—only a twisted satisfaction, as if watching a broken puppet dance to her tune.
At that exact moment, a maid rushed in, breathless.
“Miss Selina, your gown is ready.
We are waiting to dress you.” Selina lingered for a beat, looking down at Aria.
Aria, kneeling amidst the wreckage.
Her bleeding hands.
The crimson tracing down her bruised lip.
The scattered glass shining in the light.
A flicker of dark amusement crossed Selina’s eyes once more.
She stood.
As she turned to leave, she deliberately dragged the heel of her shoe across Aria’s bleeding hand.
“Oh,” she murmured, dripping with fake innocence.
“Aria, you really should keep your hands out of the way.” With a casual nudge of her foot, she pushed Aria aside.
Selina swept out of the room with her attendants.
The heavy door clicked shut.
Silence reclaimed the kitchen.
Aria stayed curled on the floor for a long, heavy moment, before she finally let out a long, shuddering breath.
“Aria!” A familiar, anxious voice broke the quiet.
Flora dashed to her side, dropping to her knees.
She reached out, trying to grab Aria’s wrist.
“Stop!
Your hands are torn open!
You’re bleeding from your mouth too—” Aria violently jerked her hand back.
“Don’t touch me, Flora.” “Why?” “My hands are a mess.” Ignoring her, Flora grabbed a cloth and began frantically clearing the broken glass and ruined food away.
“I don’t care.” She cleaned up the debris, then gently hoisted Aria to her feet, helping her slip away from the oppressive walls of the house.
By midday, Aria and Flora stepped out from the small clinic nestled in the heart of the Moonveil market.
A clean white bandage was wrapped neatly around Aria’s palm, courtesy of the local apothecary where Flora had dragged her to clean the deep cuts.
As they walked down the bustling street, Flora let out a heavy, frustrated sigh.
“I knew deep down Miss Selina wouldn’t let a day pass without pulling something like that.” Aria remained quiet.
Flora stepped in front of her, blocking her path with a frown.
“And honestly, I will never understand one thing.
Why on earth did you go back into that kitchen?” Aria offered a faint, tired smile.
“The meat still needed to be served.” “For that?” “Even if I hadn’t gone back, someone else would have had to carry it.” Aria looked down at her bandaged hand.
“If I stayed away, that cruelty would have fallen on someone else’s shoulders instead.” Flora fell silent, her expression softening into something tender yet sad.
“Yeah,” she whispered.
“Because no one else in this pack cares for anyone the way you do.” Aria met her eyes.
“You saw how she was.
Even with you right there, no one dared step forward.” Aria didn’t answer.
Flora muttered under her breath, a bitter edge to her voice, “Selina takes a special kind of pleasure in breaking you more than anyone else.” Aria gave a dry, soft laugh.
“What else is there to break?
I’m just an ordinary rogue servant, and she’s the Lord’s daughter—untouchable in every possible way.” Flora tilted her head, a spark of fierce loyalty in her eyes.
“You have something she will never buy.” Aria smiled faintly.
“What’s that?” “Brains.” For a second, they locked eyes, and then a quiet, bubbling laugh slipped past their lips.
After such a brutal morning, even that brief shared laughter felt like a lifeline.
Flora’s gaze drifted up toward the open sky.
“Do you think a miracle will ever happen, Aria?” “What kind of miracle?” “One that shatters these chains and ends this miserable, endless life of servitude.” Aria stared into the distance.
“Stop chasing ghosts.” Flora smiled softly, a sudden thought striking her.
“Speaking of dreams—did you catch the latest gossip echoing through the market?” Aria didn’t break her stride, ignoring the bait.
Flora skipped to match her pace.
“Selina is leaving for Blackfang.” Blackfang.
At the mere sound of the name, Aria’s footsteps ground to a sudden halt.
Her breath hitched in her throat.
The biting wind of Moonveil suddenly felt heavy, plunging straight down into her core.
Flora pressed on, her eyes bright with excitement.
“I hear Blackfang is a sprawling empire compared to Moonveil.
High-ranking wolves rule those lands—powerful ones.” Aria cut her off softly, her voice flat.
“Moonveil is nothing more than a tiny, distant extension of Blackfang.
Even the Alpha of our pack answers to them.
It’s only because this territory sits far from their central domain that the full oversight was handed to Lord Moore.
That’s why Blackfang’s true Alpha rarely ever casts a glance this way.” Flora blinked, staring at her in surprise.
“Wait…
how do you even know all these details?” Aria brushed it off smoothly, looking away.
“I overheard the old head cook whispering about it in the kitchens.” Undaunted, Flora continued, “And they say the wolves there carry fire in their blood—power so fierce it can withstand flames.” Aria kept her silence.
“And that’s not even the best part,” Flora leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial hum.
“There’s a grand celebration happening there soon—the Silver Moon Night festival.” “A festival?” “Yes!
They say it’s a sacred night where wolves find their true mates, where a lowly maid could cross paths with her destiny.” Aria remained entirely unmoved.
Flora added with a breathless grin, “And the most thrilling part of all—Selina is going in hopes of catching the eye of the reigning Alpha King, Kael Vathorn, believing he’s destined to be her mate.” Aria’s eyes betrayed no flicker of curiosity.
Kael Vathorn.
She let the name wash over her as if it meant nothing at all, as if she had never heard it before in her life.
“I also heard,” Flora chattered on, “that Selina’s own aunt, Morena Moore Vathorn, is Alpha King Kael’s stepmother.” Aria simply listened, her steps steady as she walked on.
“Selina is taking her personal maids along.
If by some twist of fate we were chosen to go with her, at least we’d get to witness Blackfang and that legendary festival with our own eyes.” Flora’s shoulders slumped, a deep wave of melancholy washing over her.
“But where is a miracle like that ever written for girls like us?” Aria nudged her shoulder gently with a soft smile.
“Maybe if we were born to high-ranking royalty.” Flora laughed quietly.
“Or at least if we even knew the names of our own parents.” For a split second, Aria’s smile faltered, a shadow crossing her features before she locked it away.
“It doesn’t matter.” She looked at Flora with warm, steady eyes.
“Who needs a bloodline when I have you?” Her signature smile returned.
“You are my family.” A playful light danced in Flora’s eyes.
“And what about a mate?” Aria raised an eyebrow, feigning annoyance.
“What about it?” “Surely the Goddess carved out a mate somewhere out there for us, too.” Aria let out a soft scoff, calling her a hopeless dreamer.
Her gaze lifted naturally.
By the edge of the path stood an ancient, wild white-blossom tree in full bloom.
A single, delicate white petal drifted lazily on the breeze.
Aria’s eyes locked onto the falling blossom.
Mate.
The word struck a hidden, rusted chord deep within her mind, unlocking a door long kept sealed.
Suddenly— A vivid flash tore across her vision.
I am running.
I must be around six years old.
A boy’s laughter echoes ahead of me, his footsteps light and fast.
He is older, teasing me as he darts beneath a canopy of white blossoms.
Little Aria laughs, her voice ringing out, “Catch me if you can!” Calling back with a grin, “Don’t run away, then!”, the boy chases after her.
“Catch me if you can!” little Aria taunts, darting ahead.
“No matter how far you run today, no matter how much you try to escape…” Her childish laughter fills the air.
“I’m going to catch you one day!” The boy glances back over his shoulder, laughing.
“And then?” Pausing just for a beat, little Aria beams.
“I’ll finally see your face.” “And you’ll stay with me forever…
as my Luna.” “Aria!” Flora’s voice shattered the illusion, yanking her violently back to reality.
Aria blinked hard, the mist clearing from her eyes.
She looked around, disoriented.
The Moonveil market.
Flora standing beside her.
The old white blossom tree swaying quietly.
Everything was back in the cold, unyielding present.
“Where on earth did you drift off to?” Aria kept her eyes fixed on the white flower resting in the dirt.
“I…
it was nothing.” Flora smiled gently, completely unaware.
“Were you daydreaming about your mate?” Aria didn’t offer an answer.
Right at that moment, a pure white blossom broke free from the branches above, tumbling down to land softly right in the center of her bandaged palm.
Aria stared down at the fragile flower.
A quiet, piercing question blossomed in the deepest corners of her heart.
“Do you still remember me?” She had no answer.
She didn’t know who the question was meant for.
She didn’t know who the boy from her forgotten childhood truly was.
And above all, she still didn’t know— that the journey about to unfold toward Blackfang was bound by invisible threads directly to the very past she had lost.