Third Person's POV Youthful wolves often run headlong into life, simple and bright, ready to confront the world for the ones they cherish. But adulthood-tempered by caution and survival-often bends them into self-serving shapes, drifting apart from the companions they once chased across mountain trails. As Damon's pack car wound along the winding slopes of Mistyhowl, he glimpsed Aaron blocking the road. Only then did a memory stir in him-he had once truly disliked Celestine. Damon had known Aysel far longer; from their earliest days he had admired the Moonvale Pack's delicate, doll-like younger sister. But when misfortune struck the Vale household, and because of Celestine and her mother, Aysel's life was turned upside down. Back then, Damon had viewed Celestine as a shameful interloper, a foreign wolf who had stolen the place Aysel deserved. And because of her presence, Aysel had endured countless indignities. Each visit Damon made to the Moonvale lair, Celestine somehow inserted herself into every interaction. Even at school, she was always flanked by Knox Draven, Aaron, and other annoying wolves, buzzing around like relentless insects. Damon's frustration with Vale family inevitably spilled onto Celestine. When did this change? It seemed to happen when Aysel turned eighteen and left Moonvale Pack. The physical distance between Aysel and Celestine eased the constant friction; the sharp, tit-for-tat dynamics gradually softened. Celestine ceased her old, relentless pursuit of Damon. Instead, she approached him with an apology, explaining her past actions: living alone in the Vale household had left her insecure, making her occasionally overreach. She also offered to mend fences with Aysel, promising to speak favorably on her sister's behalf before their parents. Damon had felt both relief and worry. Relief that Aysel was escaping the stifling weight of her household, but worry that parental interference might create obstacles if the two ever drew closer. Celestine's offer hit exactly the right note in his mind. Later, Damon formed a friendship with Dariusz, and Celestine entered his life in a new light, posing as Dariusz's girlfriend. With prejudices removed, and Dariusz acting as mediator, Damon saw Celestine for what she truly was-not a calculating schemer, but a young wolf, vulnerable and lonely after losing her parents. By the time Aysel reached twenty, Celestine had grown impatient with Damon's hesitation, actively encouraging him to declare himself. But the fleeting bloom of their mutual feelings was short-lived. Not long after, Dariusz died protecting Damon. Through Celestine's illness, Damon inadvertently hurt Aysel multiple times. Though he and Aysel had become mates in name, they gradually diverged in path and spirit. Damon pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the sharp ache of past missteps. He knew now what Aysel cared for most-there was no longer any reason to aid a wolf named Celestine. The car continued its ascent, leaving Aaron below, furious and spitting blood from two failed attempts to block the road. Damon's gaze was unwavering, fixed toward Mistyhowl Mountain Lodge. Even though his recent contact with Celestine had been necessary for her healing, he could guarantee their interactions were pure. The so-called embraces and kisses at the birthday feast had been carefully angled by a prowling voyeur, nothing more. No matter the confusion of past years, he had never forgotten who he loved, or the sacred purity Aysel held. Misunderstandings had piled between them over time. Returning to this familiar territory, surrounded by wolves who had witnessed their bond at its strongest, Damon saw a chance to set things right-to return to the beginning. Even Magnus Sanchez, with only months of acquaintance, could not compete with twenty years of shared history and blood ties.Aysel had not lingered at the feast; knowing the class leader would arrive later in the evening, she had returned to her villa to rest. The others were reluctant but polite enough not to force her into more revelry. Annoying her now would earn no favor. The villa was secluded. From her floor-to-ceiling windows, the peaks and rolling cloudsea stretched endlessly. The interior was warm and comfortable, with many furnishings echoing those from her own home. A painting studio and a practice room for dance had been set up, a quiet sanctuary. She smiled faintly, thinking of the grapefruit juice waiting for her, and took a photo of the mountain view to send to Magnus. No reply came-he was either resting or deep in council. Aysel entertained herself, dozing lightly until evening. Magnus still hadn't replied, but Emma messaged, saying the class leader had arrived and the outdoor grilling had begun. When Aysel joined the courtyard, she saw a familiar blocked silhouette. "Class leader? So many years... you've grown beautiful. We thought you were gone," a wolf male grinned, his fur bristling as he approached. "Looking well-where do you dwell now? Join us for a feast?" He reached for her arm. Before contact was made, a cold, sharp female voice cut through. "Whether others thrive or fail is none of your concern. Don't ruin dinner for everyone." The man froze, turning to find Aysel standing before him.