The Alpha Who Lost the Moon

Nyra's POV

I shouldn't have come. I should have just stayed in kitchen or somewhere. Just away from the ceremony.

The thought circles through my head as I press myself against the rough bark of an ancient oak, trying to disappear into the shadows at the edge of the clearing.

Around me, hundreds of wolves mill about in their finest clothes, laughing and touching and belonging in ways I never will.

The Moon Ascension ceremony happens once a year, and attendance isn't optional, not even for omegas like me who have no family, no pack protection, no reason to hope the moon will smile on them tonight.

I adjust the thin shawl around my shoulders. It's the nicest thing I own, and it's still threadbare compared to the silks and furs draping the bodies of wolves who matter. My wolf, Senna, stirs uneasily beneath my skin.

We could leave, she whispers. Slip away before it starts.

But we both know that's not true. Guards patrol the perimeter. Any wolf caught fleeing the ceremony would be dragged back and punished. So I stay small, stay quiet, and pray to the moon goddess that I can survive this night without drawing attention.

The clearing itself is breathtaking. Silver moonlight pours down through gaps in the canopy, illuminating the sacred ground where mate bonds are revealed and accepted before witnesses. Flowers I can't name bloom in impossible colors, their petals seeming to glow from within. The air hums with ancient magic, thick enough to taste.

I've never been this close to the center before. Omegas usually watch from the back, but this year there are so many wolves that I got pushed forward by the crowd. Now I'm trapped between a group of laughing betas and a stone pillar carved with runes I don't understand.

"Did you see what Luna Ashford is wearing?" someone behind me says. "Absolutely stunning."

"I heard three alphas are attending tonight. Unmated ones."

The conversation washes over me. I don't care about politics or power plays. I just want this to end.

The drums begin.

The sound rolls across the clearing like thunder, deep and primal, resonating in my chest. Conversations die.

Wolves turn toward the raised platform at the clearing's heart, where the Alpha Council stands in a semicircle, their faces grave and ceremonial. These are the leaders who govern our territories, who decide laws and disputes, who hold the power to grant mercy or deliver punishment. They are basically the senate of the pack.

My hands shake. I clasp them together.

The head councilman steps forward, his voice magically amplified so every wolf can hear.

"We gather beneath the moon's sacred light to honor the bonds she reveals. Tonight, fate will speak. Tonight, destined mates will be called to one another, and we will bear witness to the ties that cannot be broken."

My stomach twists. I don't want a mate. I can't afford one. I'm just an omega. Omegas who bond with anyone above their