Third Person's POV Celestine didn't notice the shift in Damon's aura. She smiled as she opened the box in her hands, the faint scent of porcelain dust and old memory drifting into the air. "You came at the perfect time. Look what I found." She lifted the lid higher, delighted. "I was cleaning through some old things a few days ago and realized this pair of cups was still intact. Shall we split them? One for you, one for me?" Cups. Damon's pupils contracted. The moment he saw the small porcelain cups-shaped like a kitten and a puppy-his memory snapped sharply backward. Years ago, when he had traveled beyond the eastern territories, across human ports and wolf-ruled borders, he had brought back a gift for Aysel from a distant Italian forge. A delicate cup. One of a kind. Aysel had loved it. Later, Celestine had shattered it by accident. Aysel had argued with her. The Moonvale Pack had scolded Aysel instead-blaming her for making a scene over something so small, for being petty, for lacking Luna grace. Heartbroken and furious, Aysel had gone to Damon. And he-fool that he was-had only thought of protecting Celestine's fragile heart. He had said coldly: "It's just a cup. I'll buy you another." Just a cup. Just a pair of cufflinks. Two sentences. How cruelly identical they now sounded.He had forgotten. That cup had never been "just a cup." It had been memory. It had been meaning. It had been the proof that he once crossed seas for her. In his mind, Aysel's eyes resurfaced-those eyes that had gone dark in a single breath. As if all the stars inside them had been extinguished. She had believed he would value what she valued. He never did. Later... Later, while passing through a porcelain town on another mission route, Damon had thought of making it up to her. He had decided to craft a new cup with his own hands. And at that time, Celestine had happened to be performing nearby. She had insisted on joining. So the two of them had made the cups together. When they returned, Aysel saw Damon's gift-and Celestine's carefully crafted apology cup, deliberately shaped to resemble the Italian one. Aysel had smiled. Then she had smashed Celestine's offering without hesitation. She had pushed away Damon's cup as well-the one Celestine had also "contributed ideas" to-and ordered them both to get out. Without even looking at it. They had argued again. By then, their bond was already frigid. Aysel barely spoke to him anymore. Terrified of losing her completely, Damon had rushed to plan a mating proposal. He had never taken these cups with him. So this was where they had been. What once brimmed with false warmth now stabbed straight through his chest.His lips curved into a cold, broken smile. "Do you even remember who these were originally meant for?" Celestine's smile froze. After a brief pause, she said softly, "I just thought you wouldn't want them anymore. It felt like such a waste to throw them away." She closed the box. "Forget it. Since you don't like them, I'll dispose of them." Then she lifted her gaze, testing the air between their wolves. "I just heard you fought with Quentin?" Her brows knitted in displeasure. "He's just a bastard son. What right does he have to appear at a gathering like this?" Damon's eyes locked onto hers. "Because my father plans to give the Blackwood Pack to him." Celestine's pupils widened. "That's impossible." She had missed too much while imprisoned. After her release, her former connections had severed contact entirely. News no longer reached her. She had always thought the rumors of a successor change were pack gossip. Now panic bled into her scent. "The Blackwood Pack is yours. You can't give it to him," she said urgently. "Especially today-you should never have allowed him to appear at all." The rebuke in her tone was unmistakable. Damon let out a hoarse laugh. If Aysel were here... She would have asked first whether he had been injured. Whether being driven out by a bastard had torn at his dignity. Whether his heart hurt. He brushed past Celestine and staggered away. There was a hidden stair within the Moonvale Pack estate. A door that was never locked. Aysel had once brought him there when he had lost his first championship and fought with his parents. She had said it was where she went when she needed to breathe. Now, all he wanted was a place with no scent trails. No whispers. No pack eyes. He moved through the corridors in silence. Only a few servants passed him. The rooftop was empty. No locks. No railings. Nothing but sky. He followed memory and sat at the edge. His body perched on the ledge, hands braced behind him, legs dangling in the air-swinging over nothingness. Wind tore at his coat. Alpha legends said the ledge separated sky from territory. One misstep, and even an Alpha would shatter. When they had sat together, he had felt free. Now, alone, the emptiness devoured him alive. She said she came here often. Had she always felt this lonely? Damon glanced down. For one dizzy second, the sky tilted. His body nearly slipped. He snapped awake and surged upright, heart racing.Then he froze. The place where he had sat- It was no longer him. It was a solitary girl in a dress. Long black hair tangled in the wind. Eyes empty. Quiet. Too quiet. As if she might vanish with the next gust of air. "Aysel-!" He lunged forward- And the vision disappeared. Damon collapsed to his knees. His hand clawed at his chest as his heart seized violently. His forehead hit the stone floor. His eyes burned red. Laughter ripped out of his throat-twisted, broken, transforming into sobs. "So this was your life..." This was her home. While her pack feasted below, she wandered here alone. How many times had she stood at this edge? How many times had the thought crept into her mind-to leap? She had only been a teenager. And she had brought him here. She had shown him this place. And he had seen nothing. He, who claimed to love her.What had he ever done? For his own cowardice, he urged her to reconcile with the very pack that crushed her. For his guilt, he wounded her again and again. He had never once extended a hand during her escape from hell. Never once. Damon suddenly struck himself across the face. The sound echoed across the empty rooftop. "Damon Blackwood-you deserve this! You deserve it!" His laughter shattered. The Moonvale Pack. And him. Neither deserved happiness.