Third Person's POV After Aysel turned six, she became the vessel of Luna Evelyn's lifelong guilt- a living reminder of a sin the woman could neither undo nor bury beneath the Moonvale Pack's traditions. Luna Evelyn often thought that perhaps her fate had been sealed years ago, from the moment Alpha Remus mistook her identity while visiting their den. She had recognized him immediately-her elder sister Yuna Ward's long-admired suitor-yet some reckless, fog-brained impulse made her keep silent. From childhood, Evelyn possessed nothing that outshone Yuna, save her beauty. She was not as sharp-minded, not as socially adept, not as effortlessly adored. And the day before she crossed paths with Alpha Remus, she had quarreled bitterly with Yuna. Alpha Remus could not recognize Yuna, but Evelyn knew the truth- Yuna had known him for years, had quietly admired him, kept her heart locked behind the iron pride that refused to confess to anyone. Evelyn had only learned of her sister's hidden affection by accident, after stumbling upon Yuna's private journal. That discovery had lit a childish fire in her chest- You all favor her. So I'll take the one thing she wants most. Perhaps Alpha Remus truly did prefer the softer, prettier, deceptively gentle younger sister over the proud, brilliant elder. Evelyn's plan had unfolded with disturbing ease. Yuna had been devastated. She could not accept losing in such a defining moment of her life to the little sister she had always deemed inferior. Once Alpha Remus chose Evelyn, Yuna-wounded, pride shattered-threw herself into a hasty bond-pact with a male who, beneath a polished exterior, proved rotten to the marrow. From that single misstep, every path afterward spiraled downward.Not only had Yuna stepped into ruin- her young daughter suffered with her, enduring the scars of a mother's broken life. Evelyn carried the weight of her sister's downfall like a stone lodged beneath her ribs. She believed she bore a share of guilt for Yuna's tragic fate. Aysel's grandmother had always called her foolish. And indeed, she was-foolish in her malice because it was never wholehearted, foolish in her kindness because she didn't know how to wield it. She could never truly enjoy the life she won, not after Yuna died saving Aysel. Every time she tried to show Aysel a scrap of care, her sister's blood-soaked face rose behind her eyes, accusing, reminding. The guilt found its outlet in the next generation- in two girls who had no say in the sins of their elders. Evelyn smothered Celestine Ward with affection, while neglecting and diminishing Aysel again and again. Perhaps, in the beginning, she struggled with it- a flicker of pity, a stab of maternal instinct. But with passing moons, the habit hardened. She came to love Celestine as though she were her own blood, pouring into her the tenderness meant for Aysel. She projected even her missing love for Aysel onto Celestine. Outsiders whispered that Luna Evelyn had lost her mind. But Evelyn knew the truth- she was paying penance for her mistakes. The tragedy was that her daughter ended up bearing the punishment in her stead. And from beginning to end, Aysel -moon-born and silent-had been the most innocent of them all. Fenrir remained silent for a long time before lifting a hand to wipe away the tears that had somehow slipped down Luna Evelyn's cheeks. "Mother," he murmured, voice low like a wolf trying not to howl, "what's done is done. You cannot keep trapping yourself inside your own remorse. It devours you more fiercely than any beast." But Luna Evelyn suddenly clutched his wrist, her fingers trembling with a desperate, almost feral pleading. "Fenrir... let's bring Aysel back, please? We'll bring her home. I will make it right. I'll be a good mother to her-from now on, I will be the mother she had before she turned six." Her plea was enough to break an Alpha's heart. Fenrir squeezed her hand back. "It will get better." He was lying. He knew it would not. Magnus Sanchez had the Moonvale Pack hanging by a mere breath. He let them struggle, let them run in circles like exhausted wolves chasing their own tails, clinging to the faintest thread of hope yet never daring to give up entirely. Fenrir and Alpha Remus ran themselves ragged every day, worn thin like overworked pack hounds, all for nothing-no matter how fast they ran, every trail ended in the same dead end. Sometimes Fenrir even thought Magnus should just strike the final blow cleanly. Because he understood: Magnus was avenging Aysel. The only thing Fenrir didn't know was where that last crushing strike would fall from.