Third Person's POV The moon was swollen and radiant, its silver light spilling over Stormridge's ceremonial grounds like a blessing from the Goddess Herself. Tonight was not merely a ritual. It was history. After decades of bloodshed and shadows, the East Pack would crown its new Luna-Aria, the White Wolf, reborn from loss and fate's cruel twists. The clearing was filled with wolves. Elders in flowing cloaks, warriors in their finest leathers, maidens crowned with flowers woven through their hair. The air smelled of pine smoke, burning sage, and anticipation. Wolves shifted back and forth between skin and fur, some howling to the heavens in celebration, others whispering prayers under their breath. At the center of it all stood Lucien, his dark figure a pillar of power. His aura rolled across the grounds like thunder, commanding silence and reverence in equal measure. Tonight, he would stand with his mate before the pack and the Goddess. Tonight, he would give Aria the place she was always meant to claim. Behind the veil of the ceremonial tent, Aria took a deep breath. Draped in a flowing gown the color of moonlight, she was luminous. Her wolf stirred beneath her skin, restless but proud. She was ready-or so she believed. Until the moment a harsh voice split the air. "Riley!" Aria froze, her hands clutching the edge of her gown. Another voice followed, shrill, broken, desperate. "Riley! It's her! It's Riley!" Gasps rippled through the gathered wolves. The guards surged to block the disturbance, but the damage had already been done. Two figures forced their way into the torchlight. One was gaunt and wild-eyed, her tangled hair streaked with gray, her tattered gown hanging off her frail frame-Luna Zara, escaped from the asylum. At her side stalked a man whose very scent reeked of bitterness and iron chains-Kael Vale, freshly released from his long imprisonment. Both of them pointed, their voices cracking against the night. "That's her! Don't you see? That's Riley! She's alive!" Aria's breath caught. Her heart thudded in her chest as she turned, eyes wide, searching their faces. Their voice clawed at her consciousness, digging into the fragile walls of her mind. Riley. She didn't know why the name made her chest ache, why the sound of it rattled her bones. She had no memory-no certainty-but something deep inside her stirred.Lucien was there in an instant, a wall of muscle and fury. His wolf snarled so loudly it silenced the murmurs of the crowd. His golden eyes burned like fire as he stepped in front of Aria, shielding her from their madness. "Enough," he growled, his voice carrying like a whipcrack through the clearing. "You will not taint this night with your delusions." Zara shrieked, trying to claw her way forward, but Lucien's warriors were faster. They seized her arms, dragging her back as she kicked and screamed. Kael roared his defiance, muscles bulging as he tried to break free, but half a dozen guards restrained him with brutal efficiency. Lucien turned to his captain of the guard, his expression carved in stone. "Take them as far from Stormridge as their legs will carry them. If they return-" His wolf growled, a sound edged with lethal promise. "-break them." The guards bowed and dragged the struggling pair into the shadows, their cries fading into nothing. Lucien turned to Aria then, his hand lifting to cup her cheek. She was pale, shaken, her eyes wide with questions she couldn't voice. "Who were they?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Why did they know my name?" Lucien pressed his forehead to hers, his voice low and steady, meant for her ears alone. "They are nothing, Aria. Broken wolves. Mad wolves. Do not let them into your heart. Tonight is ours-yours. Don't let their poison steal what you've fought to reclaim." Aria closed her eyes, clinging to his words, to the warmth of his hand against her skin. She nodded, though unease lingered in the pit of her stomach. "Good," Lucien murmured. He kissed her brow, then stepped back, offering his arm. "Come. Your pack awaits their Luna." The ceremony resumed, though whispers still threaded through the crowd like smoke. The tension slowly melted as the rituals began, wolves bowing their heads in reverence as Aria emerged. The air shifted, awe flooding the grounds as she stepped into the moonlight. She was radiant, her aura unmistakable-the White Wolf reborn. But not every gaze in the crowd was loud with awe. Near the back, tucked into the shadows, a man sat quietly, his eyes locked on her. Ronan. Once her mate, once her betrayer. Now, simply a wolf with regret heavy in his bones. Beside him sat his younger sister, Tessa, her small hand gripping his arm tightly. Ronan had suspected the truth the moment whispers reached him of Lucien carrying home a pale-haired warrior woman. He had sent spies, pieced together fragments, and at last confirmed what his heart had known before his mind dared admit: Riley lived. She was here. And tonight, she would rise as Luna of another. He could have stormed the grounds. He could have shouted her name, demanded answers, begged forgiveness. But those days were gone. The wolf she had once loved had died with his arrogance, with his blind devotion to others over her. What remained was a man who could only watch from the shadows. As the ritual reached its climax, Lucien placed a crown of silver and obsidian upon Aria's head. The pack erupted in howls, the night sky trembling with the sound of unity. Aria lifted her head, her eyes gleaming with tears, her wolf blazing through her aura. For the first time, she stood not as an outcast, not as a prisoner of memory-but as Luna. Tessa's eyes blurred with tears. She pressed her hand to her mouth, her chest aching with both sorrow and joy. "She's so beautiful," she whispered. Her voice broke. "Riley... you have to be happy. Promise me you'll be happy." Ronan rose, his expression unreadable, though his jaw clenched tight. He rested a hand on his sister's shoulder. "Come," he said quietly. "She's where she belongs." Together, they slipped from the crowd, unnoticed. No one saw the shadow of grief in his eyes, nor the way Tessa wiped her tears as she followed him into the night. On the dais, Lucien drew Aria into his arms, his lips brushing her temple as the pack roared their devotion. She leaned into him, her wolf purring with belonging. And Stormridge would never forget the night the White Wolf claimed her crown.