Luna Reclaims Her Power

The familiar scent of pine and wild juniper filled my lungs as I crossed into Silvermoon territory. Five years. Five long years of isolation in the Colorado mountains, fighting off rogues and wild bears, my wolf howling alone during thunderstorms. All for the precious herbs carefully wrapped in cloth and tucked against my chest.

My hands trembled slightly as I adjusted the bundle. These rare MoonBreeze herbs had taken years to cultivate, their silvery leaves now ready to cure my son's shifting sickness. My Zev would finally be able to transform without pain, without fear of being trapped between forms.

"Almost there," I whispered to my wolf, who stirred restlessly beneath my skin. She'd grown stronger during our exile, fiercer. We'd survived alone when others would have broken.

The training grounds came into view first—a wide clearing where pack members practiced combat skills. My heart quickened. Perhaps I'd see Zev first, surprise him with the cure before facing Foster. Five years without seeing my son's face felt like a physical ache.

Voices drifted through the trees. I slowed my pace, my worn boots silent on the forest floor. My clothes hung loose and patched—a far cry from the elegant Luna attire I once wore. But none of that mattered. Only Zev mattered.

"Focus, Zev! Your wolf needs to trust you completely during transition," a stern voice commanded.

Zev. My breath caught. I ducked behind a thick oak, peering around its trunk.

There he stood—my son, taller than I remembered, his shoulders broader. No trace of illness marked his features. He looked strong. Healthy.

"Now shift!" the instructor ordered.

I watched, frozen, as Zev closed his eyes. His body tensed, muscles rippling beneath his skin. Then, in one fluid motion, he transformed.

Not with the agony I'd imagined. Not with the struggle of disease. But with the confident grace of a young Alpha.

His wolf form emerged—powerful, sleek, and silver-gray. Bigger than any sixteen-year-old should be. Stronger than any sick wolf could ever hope to be.

"No," I whispered, clutching my herbs tighter. "No, no, no."

My knees nearly buckled as the truth crashed over me like an avalanche. There was never any sickness. Never any need for these herbs I'd bled for, nearly died for.

I pressed myself against the tree trunk, my wolf whimpering inside me. Five years of sacrifice. Five years away from my son. Five years missing my mother's final moments—all for a lie.

I didn't stay to watch Zev shift back. Couldn't bear to see his healthy face, knowing what I'd given up for nothing. Instead, I stumbled toward the pack house, my legs barely supporting me.

The main building looked the same—stone and timber, proud and imposing. But something felt different. Wrong.

Voices filtered through an open window. I approached slowly, my wolf suddenly alert, bristling.

"—the last of the MoonBreeze batch," Foster's deep voice said. "Lucy's technique works perfectly. We'll control the market on healing herbs within months."

"And no one knows it was