Aysel's POV Before Celestine ever entered our pack, I was the only daughter of the Moonvale bloodline-the Alpha's child, born under the full moon, kissed by the Goddess herself. Then one day, she appeared. A trembling little thing with pale eyes and a sob story everyone adored. The pack whispered that Celestine's mother, my aunt Yuna, had died because of me-because I ran off chasing a stray wolf pup on my Birthday, forcing her to come after me. The crash that took her life wasn't fate, they said-it was my sin. And so, Celestine Ward, the poor orphan of my mother's sister, was brought into our pack to "heal" what I had broken. They called her my sister. I called her the curse that replaced me. From the start, the moon rejected our harmony. Whenever we were together, disaster followed. And of course, it was always my fault. When we fell down the stairs, both bloodied and crying, Celestine woke first. The first words she spoke were to beg the Alphas not to blame me. So noble. So self-sacrificing. It wasn't until I was punished-locked away without food for two nights-that I overheard the truth. She had pushed me. Because I wouldn't give her the foreign doll Alpha Remus brought home from his last trip. That doll was meant for me. But when Celestine looked at it with those trembling lips and downcast eyes, my father melted. "Aysel already has plenty of toys," he said. "Let her have it." That night, I broke. And when I refused to smile and share, they called me jealous, spoiled and heartless. Then they locked me in the cellar, under the pretext of asking me to reflect on myself. By the time Damon Blackwood found me burning with fever in the cellar, I had already realized: no one saves the wolf who refuses to bow. My grandmother took me away after that. She was the only one who saw what I'd become-a cub with teeth and no place to bite. For three years, she raised me in her quiet valley, taught me to listen to the moon's pull and hold my rage until it was sharp enough to cut. When she sent me back to the Moonvale Pack, I promised her I'd behave. That I'd try to live in peace. Peace. What a joke. Celestine had bloomed under their protection-sweet, graceful, adored by every wolf in the territory. And I... I had become something else. When she smiled, the pack saw sunlight. When I smiled, they saw danger. Still, Grandmother never stopped trying to protect me. She kept our bond strong, invited us both to her old cottage each summer, believing that maybe, just maybe, we could learn to love each other again. She never understood: some wolves are born enemies. That summer, Celestine asked to come with me to visit. She said she wanted to "spend time as sisters." Luna Evelyn was delighted. I wasn't. For the first few days, I endured her-the fake gentleness, the way she flinched if I so much as spoke too loudly. But even my grandmother began to notice how I'd fold under her every word. How I'd retreat instead of snapping back. One night, after I'd fallen asleep, I overheard them arguing softly in the living room. Celestine's voice trembled with righteousness; Grandmother's with disappointment. I don't know what was said, but by morning, the air in the house felt poisoned. The next day, I went to the mountains to pick moonberries. Before I left, I measured out Grandmother's medicine and tucked it in her pocket myself, reminding her to take it on time. Celestine stayed home, claiming she wasn't feeling well. When I returned, the air reeked of ash and death. Grandmother was lying on the floor, her body cold.The bottle of pills lay scattered across the stone-far from her hand. And Celestine... She stood by the window, pale, trembling, lips curved in the faintest smile. "You're back," she whispered. "It happened so fast." That smile haunts me still. I lunged at her. I don't remember much-only the taste of blood, the sound of snarling, and my father's roar as he dragged me off her. They said I'd lost my mind. They said Celestine was innocent. The autopsy called it heart failure. No proof, no guilt. Just another tragedy-and another reason to hate me. I spent a month locked in a medical ward, sedated, my wolf silenced. When I came out, my father slapped me across the face so hard I thought my jaw had cracked. "You killed your aunt," he said coldly. "And you still dare raise a hand to your sister? I should have let you die that night." Something in me died that day anyway. From then on, I stopped pretending. The quiet, obedient Aysel was gone. Whenever Celestine smiled, I bared my fangs. Whenever she cried, I laughed. They called me the cursed wolf of Moonvale. They weren't wrong. Even my only friend, Aine Rook-the girl I once defended from bullies-turned on me, spreading stories that I'd hurt Celestine again. Every whisper in the halls cut like a blade. And still, I stayed silent. Because I knew what she'd taken from me wasn't just my family. It was my place in the pack. My right to exist. So when the day came that Celestine claimed she wanted Grandmother's old cottage as her own, I didn't hesitate. If she wanted ashes-then ashes she would have. I stood in the yard, the moon high above me, the scent of old memories thick in the air. The lighter clicked in my hand, its flame small but fierce. I dropped it into the pile of paper offerings and moon lilies, and the fire roared to life. The house burned like a pyre for everything I'd lost. For every lie she'd spun. When the flames began to die, I called the patrols and told them it was an accident-that I'd only been honoring my grandmother's spirit. They believed me. They even comforted me. But in the glow of the dying embers, I saw my reflection in the window-eyes bright, fangs bared, a mad wolf finally free. And I realized something simple and true. If the world wants a monster, I'll give them one. When the enforcers finally left, silence swallowed the ruins. The night was still thick with the scent of smoke and ash-my fire, my sin. One of the female officers offered to escort me to a nearby inn, worried I might break. I smiled faintly, told her I wanted to be alone. And I did. Because for wolves like me-cursed, tainted, unloved-solitude was the only thing that didn't turn its back. For a long time, I stood before the ashes of what used to be my grandparents' house. Now it was nothing but a skeleton, devoured by the flames I'd lit with my own hands. The air reeked of burnt timber, old memories, and vengeance finally spent. When I finally turned to leave, the night wind shifted-and I froze. Blood. And something darker-rogue wolves. Their scent clawed through the air: raw, metallic, reeking of death and hunger. I almost ignored it. It wasn't my business. Rogues tearing each other apart was as common as rain. But then- a second scent cut through the chaos. Familiar. The mysterious Alpha who had once saved me when no one else dared to. Damn it. I owed him.