Aysel's POV The day of aunt Yuna Ward's death anniversary always leaves the air in Moonvale thick and heavy. Even the winds outside the pack's estate seem to move slower, as if afraid to disturb the ghosts that still linger. From the moment I woke, a dull ache throbbed beneath my ribs-my wolf restless, my pulse sluggish. I stared at my reflection: black dress, pale skin, the faint shimmer of gold in my irises betraying my bloodline. I looked every inch the Alpha's daughter... yet felt like nothing more than a shadow wearing her skin. Before the ache could swallow me whole, I raised a hand and covered the mirror-blocking out my own reflection. By the time I arrived at the Moonvale manor, the scent of roasted grain and herbal tea hung in the air. The family was gathered around the long dining table, five of them-Alpha Remus, Luna Evelyn, Fenrir, Lykos, and Celestine Ward-eating as if it were any ordinary morning. When I entered, forks stilled for half a heartbeat. Then Celestine smiled sweetly, that perfect, practiced Luna-in-training smile. "Luna Evelyn," she called gently, "perhaps we should add another seat for Aysel?" Her voice was honeyed, her eyes glittering with amusement. I looked at the five matching oak chairs-five, not six-and shook my head. "No need. I've eaten." No one argued. The air hung heavy with unspoken words. Even Lykos, the loudest of my brothers, didn't dare make a joke. Grief had a way of silencing even wolves. Luna Evelyn glanced at me, her expression a mix of yearning and restraint. My father said nothing, simply kept cutting into his food. The silence stretched thin until Celestine sighed softly, like she pitied the tension. When breakfast ended and preparations for the ceremony began, Celestine suddenly gasped and slapped her forehead lightly. "Oh! I forgot-Mother's gift! I left it upstairs." She turned to me, eyes wide and innocent. "Aysel, will you come with me? It's a bit heavy, and I could use your help." Her tone was bright, but beneath it pulsed the faint hum of dominance-subtle, coaxing. It wasn't lost on me. Before I could answer, Lykos offered, "I'll go." Celestine's smile never faltered. "No need. You're a boy, and boys have rough hands. The ribbons will crease."Her father chuckled softly, mistaking her poison for charm. "That's thoughtful, Celestine. Go on, Aysel. Help your sister." I didn't argue. Not today. Celestine's eyes glimmered as we ascended the grand staircase. Behind us, Luna Evelyn watched with quiet hope-as if believing that one trip upstairs could fix years of buried venom. Celestine didn't lead me to her own chamber. Instead, she stopped before the door that once belonged to me. The scent hit me before she even touched the handle-stale air, dust, forgotten memories. "This one's yours, isn't it?" she asked lightly. "Father said I could stay here for a while. My wardrobe's being expanded-can't have the future Luna living out of boxes." She pushed the door open. The room was dim, the curtains drawn. Once, sunlight used to pour through these windows, painting my walls gold. Now the air was heavy with neglect. She walked in, brushing dust off a table. "No one's been in here for years. You never visit home anymore, do you, Aysel?" I said nothing. My wolf was watching her too closely to waste words. On the old bed lay a painting-nearly my height, draped in white cloth. Celestine pulled the cover away with a flourish. Beneath it was a portrait of Luna Yuna Ward-her mother. The woman's smile was soft, eyes luminous, as if she were still alive in that single stroke of oil and pigment. Celestine's fingers brushed the painted cheek. "She was beautiful, wasn't she? Almost as beautiful as your mother." Then she turned to me, eyes glinting. "Do you still remember her face, Aysel? Truly remember it?" Her words unlocked something deep in my chest-memory and scent colliding. I remembered the first time I met Yuna Ward. I was six-wild, untrained, too curious for my own good. Yuna was kind, her voice warm as the sun. She smelled of wildflowers and pine sap. But her smile never reached her eyes. Celestine had been different then-quiet, bruised, watchful. She hid behind her mother's skirts, smelling of fear and damp stone. I used to bring them flowers from the garden, thinking it might make them happy. "Here," I told Yuna once, holding out a handful of petals. "If you take them, you'll smile again." She did smile-but there was sorrow in it, a kind of knowing that made my young wolf uneasy.I was too young to see the truth in her gaze. Too young to sense that pity can cut deeper than claws. Celestine's voice snapped me back. "Do you remember what happened after that? The day of your sixth naming ceremony?" Of course I did. The memory stung like silver. I had found a pup in the forest-tiny, trembling, blood on its flank. I begged my parents to let me keep it, and for once, they agreed. I named him Ember. He followed me everywhere. Until that day. Celestine had cornered him while I wasn't looking-jealous of the attention, or maybe just because she could. I found her standing over him, her boot pressing into his ribs. He whimpered, and my wolf rose like fire. I shoved her away, hard. She fell and screamed. When the adults arrived, she held up her scratched hand like a victory flag. No one believed me. Not even my father. The next morning, Ember was gone.