Chapter 2
ELARA
Two days in this silent, suffocating fortress. Two days of being nothing more than a ghost.
No warmth. No words. Not even from Draven.
The staff moved around me as if I didn't exist. Polite, distant, obedient—but empty. Their gazes flicked past me, their movements careful, calculated.
Not out of respect. Out of fear. No one welcomed me. No one spoke unless necessary.
They bowed, performed their duties, and vanished—like I was some delicate, dangerous thing they couldn't afford to acknowledge.
At first, I told myself it was just an adjustment period. That they would warm to me.
But the more I watched them, the more I realized—this wasn't an adjustment. This was a rule. And I was the only one who didn't know my place.
I couldn't take it anymore. I pushed open the door, the heavy wood groaning as if even it objected to my presence.
The hallway beyond was dim, endless, the torches casting long, jagged shadows against the stone.
It felt like walking through a graveyard. Silent. Cold. Haunted.
I hadn't even taken two steps before a servant appeared at the end of the corridor. She froze. Stiff. Hesitant before bowing and scrambling away.
Everywhere I turned, I saw warriors moving around. Save for the bow they gave me, not a single one dared to meet my gaze. It was as though I was not to be spoken to, or worse—an unwelcome presence.
If Draven thought I'd sit quietly in a corner, waiting for my existence to be acknowledged, he was wrong.
I turned a corner and nearly bumped into Mirella. A sharp inhale. A step back. Mirella's surprise was brief, but I caught it. The slight widening of her eyes before she schooled her face back into careful, neutral lines.
"Luna." She bowed her head stiffly.
I nodded in response. "Mirella."
"Do you need something, Luna?" Her voice was as dry and brittle as the air.
"No, I just wanted to see the pack," I said, lifting my chin with determination. Mirella hesitated for a moment, her eyes flicking to the side.
"Does the Alpha know, Luna?" she asked, her tone cautious.
I knew what she was really asking. Would Draven approve? A flicker of defiance flared in my chest.
"No," I said firmly. "But I'm not his prisoner. I'm his wife. I don't need his permission to see my new home."
Before she could respond, a small voice called from across the hall. "Mother, there you are. I've been looking everywhere for you."
Mirella's eyes shifted in that direction, and I followed her gaze to see a girl. She was no older than twelve, hurried toward us, her dark braid bouncing against her back.
Mirella exhaled, rubbing her temple. "Viola, can't you see I'm with the Luna?" Mirella asked.
The girl's eyes widened when she saw me, and she immediately dropped into a deep bow. "I'm so sorry, Luna," she said, her voice hesitant.
I blinked at her reaction, a strange discomfort settling in my stomach. I held up my hand to stop her. "Please, no need for that. Besides, you must have had something important to tell your mother."
Viola straightened hesitantly, sneaking a glance at her mother. It struck me then—she was waiting for permission to speak.
Had Draven's authority left everyone in this pack like this? Living in silent obedience? I turned back to Mirella.
Mirella's lips pursed, just slightly. "I'm sure it's nothing, Luna. About what you said earlier. I believe you don't know your way around yet, Luna, so I'll say you let Viola be your guide around."
I glanced at the girl, who stood frozen, her fingers twisting in her dress.
"Oh," I said, suddenly uneasy. "Only if she wants to."
Viola's head snapped up so fast it startled me. "No, Luna! I mean—yes! I would be honored." Her voice rushed out in a breathless tumble, her hands gripping her skirts like she expected me to change my mind.
I frowned. Why did she look so... relieved?
"Thank you, Mirella. It seems Viola wouldn't mind showing me around."
"You're welcome, Luna. The Alpha said we should see to your needs."
I froze at the mention of the Demon. Of course, she was only following instructions. What was I expecting?
"Viola, the Luna needs you to show her around the pack. I've got other duties to attend to."
Viola's eyes flickered between me and her mother. There was hesitation in her gaze, but she nodded quickly, clearly eager to obey.
"Of course, Luna. It would be an honor."
I smiled at her, even as a small pang of guilt tugged at my chest. It felt wrong, being called "Luna" when it was just a title in name.
"If that will be all Luna, may I be excused?"
"Of course you are,"
Mirella gave me a tight smile before turning and walking away, leaving me with Viola. The girl seemed nervous at first, but when I smiled, she relaxed.
"So," I said, trying to break the awkwardness,
"I've only been here for a few days, and I've hardly seen anything. Do you mind showing me around?"
Viola's eyes brightened, and a small, genuine smile tugged at her lips. "Of course! I'd be happy to."
She led me through the halls, showing me the various parts of Silverpeak's compound. The pack was large, the stone walls imposing and cold.
I watched as warriors marched through the stone corridors, their movements sharp, precise—almost rehearsed. No one loitered. No one laughed. The atmosphere here was nothing like the warmth I'd known in my father's pack.
"Everyone seems so... serious," I remarked, trying to make conversation.
Viola nodded, her gaze flicking to a pair of wolves who passed by us without a word. "It's always been this way. The pack is strong, disciplined, but we don't... we don't have much fun. Not since... well, things changed."
Her words trailed off, and I noticed the way she glanced around nervously. "Since what?" I asked, intrigued by the hesitation in her voice.
Viola shook her head quickly. "It's nothing. Just... things have been tough for a long time."
I didn't press her further, sensing that there was something she wasn't telling me. Instead, we continued our walk.
She pointed out the different clans within the pack: the gardeners who grew food, the hunters who provided meat, the fire clan who maintained the warmth of the stronghold, and the healers. As we passed by the healer's quarters, I felt a tug in my chest.
The scent of herbs hit me before I saw them—rows of dried lavender, wild chamomile, and feverfew hanging from wooden beams. The sight sent a pang through my chest. Home.
"This is the healer's wing," Viola explained, her voice quieter here, almost reverent.
My fingers brushed over a bundle of yarrow, the same herb I used to grind into pastes for my father's warriors. I swallowed hard.
"I used to be a healer," I said, almost without thinking. "Well, I was, back in my father's pack."
Viola's eyes widened slightly. "Really? You're a healer?"
I nodded. "I trained with my father's healers. It's one of the things I've always been passionate about."
A smile spread across her face. "That's amazing, Luna! Maybe you could join our healer's clan here. I'm sure they'd love to have you."
I felt a spark of hope. "I'd like that," I said, my voice a little more hopeful than before. "Maybe it will give me something to focus on."
Viola's smile widened. "You can inform the Alpha about this. I'm sure they'll be happy to have another healer in the pack."
My smile dropped at the mention of Draven. How do I speak with him when I've not set eyes on him since I got here?
I pushed the thought to the back of my mind. No matter what, I'll join the healers clan. Even if I have to search for Draven to the ends of the earth.
For the first time since I arrived at Silverpeak, I felt a small flicker of light. The idea of joining the healers, of working with others, made me feel like I had a purpose here.
We continued exploring, making our way to the market. The market was small—lifeless, despite the movement.
Vendors worked in chilled silence, their voices muted, their hands quick. Transactions were swift, mechanical. No pleasantries. No laughter.
I stepped closer to a stall lined with furs, letting my fingers skim over the rough texture. "How much for—"
The vendor flinched. My breath caught. Flinched. Like he hadn't expected me to speak to him at all.
I pulled my hand back. "I didn't mean to—"
"It's free, Luna," he interrupted hastily. His voice was too even. Too controlled.
I frowned. I hadn't asked for charity.
"I'd like to pay," I said firmly.
The vendor stiffened, his fingers curling into the edge of his stall. Like he was bracing for something. Something bad.
"I don't understand," I said slowly. "Why won't you let me pay?"
He flicked his gaze past me—to someone behind me. Not Viola. Someone else.
I followed his glance. A group of warriors lingered at the market's edge. They weren't browsing. They weren't speaking. They were just... watching.
My stomach twisted. I looked back at the vendor, searching his face for some kind of answer. His lips pressed into a thin line.
"It's just how things are, Luna," he murmured. "Please. Just take it."
Behind me, Viola whispered, urgency creeping into her voice. "Luna... maybe we should go."
I swallowed hard and took a slow step back. The weight of unseen eyes bore down on me, sending a prickle down my spine.
I didn't want the furs anymore. I didn't want to stand here, exposed, where everyone was either afraid to look at me or afraid of what would happen if they did.
Viola tugged gently at my sleeve. I nodded and turned, my chest tight with unspoken questions.
Behind me, Viola whispered, "Luna... maybe we should go."
We returned to the pack house as evening set in. The once-quiet halls felt slightly less oppressive now, but the unease in my chest remained.
Viola and I parted ways, and I retreated to my chambers, but I couldn't shake the feeling that had settled over me.
The vendor's reaction. The way the warriors had watched, silent and still. The way Viola's whisper had carried more than just urgency—it had carried warning.