Seraphina's POV The first thing I learned about cruelty was that it did not always come with a raised voice. Sometimes, it came with a smile. Sometimes, it came from people who had once sat at your father's table, eaten his food, and called him brother. And sometimes, it came from a little boy who watched his mother pour your breakfast into the dirt and laughed as you knelt to collect what remained. I was ten years old when I learned that being born into a powerful family did not guarantee that anyone would treat you with kindness. "Faster, Seraphina!" My mother's voice pulled me from my thoughts. I tightened my grip on the wooden bucket and hurried across the servants' courtyard, careful not to spill the water. My bare feet slapped against the cold stone, and the hem of my faded dress brushed my ankles. The dress had once belonged to my mother. She had shortened it twice, but the fabric was thinning, and a tear near the waist grew larger whenever I moved. I hated that dress. Not because it was ugly, but because I knew what people saw whenever they looked at it. A reminder that the Vale family had fallen. A reminder that the daughter of the man who had once stood beside the Alpha now scrubbed floors in the very house where she had once been welcomed as family. And a reminder that no matter how hard my mother and I worked, the people of Crystal Moon Pack would never allow us to forget what they believed we had done. I reached the kitchen door and lowered the bucket. "You're late," Morgan Vex announced. The head cook stood beside the preparation table, her thick arms folded across her chest. Her flour-stained apron stretched over her stomach, and her sharp eyes traveled from my face to the bucket. "I apologize, ma'am. The well was crowded." "Excuses." She clicked her tongue. "Do you think the Alpha's household waits because a little girl has trouble carrying water?" "No, ma'am." "Then stop standing there and get to work." I lowered my head. "Yes, ma'am." Morgan pointed toward a mountain of dirty dishes. "Those need washing. The eastern corridor needs scrubbing, and someone spilled stew in the dining room. Everything must be clean before the next meal." I stared at the dishes. There were enough to keep me occupied until midday. "But, ma'am, Mother said I should help her with the laundry this morning." The moment the words left my mouth, I wished I could swallow them. Morgan's expression hardened. "Your mother does not give orders in this house." "I didn't mean—" "Then learn to keep your mouth shut." She struck the counter with a wooden spoon. I flinched. "Perhaps I should remind the Alpha that his little charity cases are becoming too comfortable." "No!" I blurted. She raised an eyebrow. I swallowed the fear rising in my throat. "Please, ma'am. I'll finish everything." Morgan studied me before pushing the bucket toward my feet. "See that you do." I bent to pick it up. As I turned away, I heard her mutter, "Blood traitors. That's all the Vales are." I pretended not to hear. I had become very good at pretending. Pretending the insults did not hurt. Pretending I did not notice when other children received new clothes while I wore patched ones. Pretending I was not hungry when the servants scraped leftovers into the bins. Most importantly, pretending I could not remember the girl I had been before everything changed. Before my father died. Before the pack began treating my mother and me like something that should have been buried alongside him. I returned to the dishes and began washing. One plate. Then another. Then another. I scrubbed until my fingers became wrinkled, working quickly because I knew what would happen if I failed to finish. Morgan would find something wrong with my work and send me back to do it again. The kitchen grew busier as the morning advanced. Servants hurried between the counters, carrying food and arranging silver cutlery. The smell of freshly baked bread and roasted meat made my stomach ache. I had eaten nothing since the previous evening. My mother and I had learned not to ask for food unless it was offered. Asking only gave people another opportunity to humiliate us. I was reaching for another plate when a familiar voice stopped me. "Why are you still here?" My fingers froze. Kael Blackthorn stood in the kitchen doorway. He was the Alpha's son, the boy everyone said would one day inherit the Crystal Moon Pack. Even at his age, people treated his words as though they were already commands from an Alpha. His shirt was spotless, his shoes polished, and his dark hair neatly combed. He had everything I no longer had. And whenever he looked at me, his face carried the same expression. Disgust. "I'm working," I answered quietly. He glanced at the dishes. "Obviously." Two servants laughed. Kael approached the table and picked up a plate from the clean stack. He examined it, ran a finger across its surface, and frowned. "This is dirty." I stared at it. The plate was spotless. "Please, I washed it already." His eyes narrowed. "Are you calling me a liar?" "No." "Then why are you arguing?" "I'm not arguing. I'm sorry." He dropped the plate into the basin. Water splashed across my dress. "Wash it again." I looked at the plate floating among the others. Something inside me wanted to scream. I wanted to ask why he hated me so much. I wanted to know why my father's death had become a reason to punish a child who barely understood what death meant. But I knew better. My mother had warned me never to give Kael a reason to become angrier. So I reached for the plate. "Yes, Kael." He smiled. "That's better." He walked away, leaving the servants to laugh behind him. I waited until he disappeared before wiping the tears gathering in my eyes. Only two escaped. I brushed them away quickly. I could not afford to cry. There was still a corridor to scrub. --- By the time breakfast ended, my arms ached. I was kneeling in the eastern corridor, scrubbing a stain from the polished floor, when my mother appeared at the far end. For one brief moment, the mansion seemed less terrible. Elera Vale was carrying a basket of freshly washed linens against her hip. Her dark hair had been gathered into a loose bun, though several strands had escaped around her face. Her dress was as faded as mine, and exhaustion had settled beneath her eyes. But when she saw me, she smiled. My mother always smiled at me. Even when she was tired. Even when she was hungry. Even when she thought I wasn't looking and pressed a hand against her stomach to quiet the emptiness there. "Seraphina." I dropped the rag and hurried toward her. "Mother!" She placed the basket on a nearby bench and brushed a damp strand of hair from my forehead. "Have you eaten anything?" I shook my head. Her smile faltered. "Not even a piece of bread?" I shook my head again. For a moment, she looked as though she might cry. Then she glanced over her shoulder to make sure nobody was watching and slipped something into my palm. A small piece of bread. It was hard around the edges and slightly stale, but I stared at it as though she had handed me a treasure. "Eat it quickly," she whispered. "Before anyone sees." I looked at the bread, then back at her. "What about you?" "I ate earlier." I knew she was lying. My mother had a particular way of touching her lips whenever she lied to protect me. She had done it so often that I recognized the movement before she realized she was making it. I broke the bread in half. "Then we can both eat." Her eyes softened. "Oh, my sweet girl." She accepted the smaller piece, and we stood together in the quiet corridor, sharing a piece of bread barely large enough for one person. It was the best breakfast I had eaten in days. Not because it tasted good. Because I had eaten it with her. For a few precious seconds, I could almost pretend we were back in our old home, where my father would sit at the table and complain that Mother always gave me the biggest portion. I remembered his laughter. The warmth of his hands when he lifted me onto his shoulders. The way he called me his little star. I remembered believing that nothing could ever happen to our family because my father was strong, respected, and loved by the Alpha. Then I remembered his funeral. The whispers. The coldness in people's eyes. And the way my mother had held me so tightly that night that I could barely breathe. I swallowed the last bite of bread. "Mother?" "Hmm?" "Did Father do something bad?" Her hand stopped against my cheek. The question had been living inside me for months. I had tried to bury it, but it always returned whenever I heard people whispering about our family. My mother studied my face. "Why would you ask me that?" "Because everyone hates us." Pain crossed her face so quickly that I might have missed it if I hadn't been watching. "Not everyone, darling." "Kael does." She sighed. "Kael is a boy who has been taught that power makes him important. He hasn't learned that being powerful and being good are two different things." "But why does he hate us?" My mother glanced toward the servants' quarters. "Some questions are dangerous, Seraphina." "Even questions about Father?" She closed her eyes. When she opened them, she knelt before me and took both my hands. "Listen to me carefully. Whatever people tell you about your father, never believe that his death makes you worthless." My throat tightened. "I don't think I'm worthless." "Good." She squeezed my fingers. "Because you are not." Her voice trembled. "You are my daughter. You are the child of a man who loved you more than anything in this world. No matter what happens, you must remember that." I nodded, although I didn't understand why she sounded as though she was preparing me for something terrible. She kissed my forehead. "Now, go finish your work before Morgan comes looking for you." I caught her wrist before she could stand. "Will you be here when I finish?" Something changed in her expression. For a moment, a shadow passed through her eyes. Then she smiled again. "Of course." "Promise?" She looked at me as though the question had broken something inside her. "I promise, my little star." I released her hand. She picked up the basket and continued down the corridor. I watched until she disappeared around the corner. Then I returned to my work, unaware of how much pain a promise could one day hold. --- By late afternoon, the mansion had grown quieter. I was carrying a bundle of dirty linens toward the laundry room when laughter drifted from the garden. I slowed beside the open doorway. Kael stood beneath the stone archway with two boys from the pack. One pointed toward the servants' courtyard. "Is that the Vale girl?" Kael followed his gaze. I immediately looked away. "Yes," he replied. "Why does she still live here?" "Because the Alpha allows it." The other boy laughed. "I heard her father betrayed the pack." My fingers tightened around the linens. Kael's expression became unreadable. "People say many things." "Is it true?" He shrugged. "Does it matter?" The boys laughed again. I continued walking, forcing myself not to run. Then Kael spoke once more. "Her family should be grateful they're allowed to remain here at all." I stopped. I didn't know why those words hurt more than the other insults. Perhaps because they reminded me that my mother and I weren't being treated with kindness. We were being tolerated because someone had decided we deserved to suffer. I hurried into the laundry room before anyone could see my face. That evening, Morgan gave us the remains of the servants' meal. Mother and I sat together on a low wooden bench behind the laundry building. The air smelled of damp clothes and woodsmoke. Somewhere beyond the pack's borders, wolves howled beneath the darkening sky. I leaned against her shoulder. "Mother?" "Yes, darling?" "When I grow up, will we leave this place?" Her hand paused over my hair. "Why do you want to leave?" "Because I don't want people to hate us anymore." She was silent for so long that I lifted my head. Her eyes were fixed on the darkness beyond the courtyard. "Sometimes," she whispered, "leaving a place isn't as simple as walking away." "Why?" She looked at me, and for the first time that day, I saw fear in her eyes. Not fear of Morgan. Not fear of Kael. Something deeper. Something that made my stomach twist. "Mother, what's wrong?" She immediately drew me into her arms. "Nothing, my love." "But—" "Nothing." She kissed the top of my head. "I am here. That's all you need to remember." I wrapped my arms around her waist. She held me tighter than usual. For reasons I couldn't explain, I wished I could stay in that moment forever. I wished the night would never end. I wished the morning would never come. Because somewhere deep inside me, beneath the exhaustion and hunger, I sensed that something was terribly wrong. Something my mother was too afraid to tell me. --- That night, I woke to the sound of my mother crying. At first, I thought I had dreamed it. Our room was dark, illuminated only by moonlight slipping through the broken window. The old blanket covered my legs, and the wind made the wooden frame creak. I turned toward her. She sat on the edge of the bed with her back to me. "Mother?" She stiffened before wiping her face and turning around. "Go back to sleep, darling." I pushed myself up. "Why are you crying?" "I'm not." "You are." She stared at me, and the fragile smile she tried to summon made my chest ache. Sometimes, I thought being poor was the worst thing that had ever happened to us. Sometimes, I thought it was the way people looked at us. But watching my mother struggle to hide her tears, I realized there was something worse than hunger and humiliation. It was knowing that the person who loved you most in the world was hurting and being too small to help. I climbed out of bed and wrapped my arms around her. She held me immediately. For a long time, neither of us spoke. Then she whispered my name. "Seraphina." "Yes, Mother?" "If anything ever happens to me, I need you to remember something." I pulled away to look at her. "Nothing is going to happen to you." Her lips trembled. "Listen to me." I shook my head. "No. I don't want to." "Seraphina—" "I don't want you to talk like that!" My voice broke, and tears blurred my vision. "You promised you would stay with me." Her face crumpled. She gathered me into her arms, pressing my head against her chest. "I know, my love. I know." She rocked me gently, the way she had when I was little. "I'm sorry." I didn't understand what she was apologizing for. I only knew that I wanted her to stop crying. I wanted my father back. I wanted our home back. I wanted to be a little girl who worried about scraped knees and broken toys instead of whether the people who hated her would take away the only person she had left. Eventually, my mother laid me down and tucked the blanket around my shoulders. She remained beside me, stroking my hair until my eyes grew heavy. Just before sleep claimed me, I felt her lips touch my forehead. "Whatever happens, remember that your father loved you." I wanted to ask why she was speaking as though she was afraid of losing me. I wanted to ask why her hands trembled whenever footsteps approached our door. I wanted to ask why she sometimes stared into the darkness as though she could see something waiting there. But I was tired. So I closed my eyes. I fell asleep believing that when morning came, my mother would still be there. I didn't understand why the people of Crystal Moon Pack hated us. I didn't know what my father had supposedly done, or why his death had turned our lives into an endless punishment. I only knew that I was ten years old, that my mother was the only person who had never made me feel ashamed of being alive, and that I loved her more than anything in this world. As I drifted into sleep, I held on to that love. Outside our little room, the wind swept through the courtyard, rattling the windows and carrying distant voices through the darkness. I heard my mother's quiet footsteps move toward the door. Then came a knock. Three sharp strikes. My eyes opened. Mother went completely still. For several seconds, neither of us moved. Then another knock sounded, louder than the first. "Open the door," a man's voice commanded. My mother's face lost its color. And for the first time in my life, I saw her look at our door as though whatever stood on the other side was more frightening than anything the world could do to her.

Seraphina's POV There were things my mother never spoke about. My father's death was one of them. Whenever I asked how he had died, she would grow quiet, her eyes fixed on some distant point. Sometimes, she held me so tightly that I could barely breathe. Other times, she simply told me I was too young to understand. I used to believe she was protecting me from grief. I was wrong. She was protecting me from the truth. My father hadn't simply died. Before his final breath, someone had stripped him of his wealth, destroyed his reputation, and turned the people he loved against him. That someone was the Alpha of Crystal Moon Pack, the father of Kael Blackthorn. But I didn't know that when I was ten years old. All I knew was that I missed my father, and sometimes, when the mansion grew quiet, I heard my mother whisper his name like a prayer to a god who had abandoned us. I never imagined that one rainy afternoon, she would finally tell me why. --- I sat on the cold floor of our little room, mending the torn hem of my dress while Mother sorted through old clothes. Rain tapped against the broken window, and the smell of damp wood filled the air. She had been unusually quiet all morning. Every few minutes, her gaze drifted toward the small wooden box beneath her bed. I'd seen that box countless times, but she never allowed me to touch it. "Mother?" She looked up. "Yes, sweetheart?" "What's inside that box?" Her hands stilled. "Nothing you need to worry about." "Then why do you keep looking at it?" A faint smile touched her lips. "You're becoming too observant for your own good." "Is it Father's?" Her smile disappeared. After a long silence, she lowered the clothes in her hands and reached beneath the bed. "Come here, Seraphina." I crawled beside her as she placed the box between us. Its wooden surface was scratched, and one corner was damaged, but the silver clasp remained intact. She hesitated before opening it. Inside lay a silver ring, a folded document, and a small portrait. I reached for the photograph. My father smiled back at me. He had dark hair, broad shoulders, and kind eyes. In the picture, he held me as a baby, pressing his forehead against mine. I remembered very little about him. Only fragments remained: his laughter, his strong arms lifting me into the air, and a deep voice calling me his little star. "Tell me about him," I whispered. Mother brushed her thumb across the photograph. "Your father was a good man." "Were he and the Alpha really friends?" Her fingers tightened around the picture. "They were." "What happened between them?" For a moment, she said nothing. Then she looked at me, and something in her expression made me sit straighter. "Your father trusted the wrong person," she whispered. "And that trust cost him everything." She took a deep breath. Then she began to tell me a story that would change how I understood my family forever. --- Before the people of Crystal Moon Pack learned to spit my father's name like an insult, Elias Vale had been one of the most respected men in the territory. He wasn't an Alpha, but his influence reached every corner of the pack. He owned several trading businesses, controlled valuable land, and helped families struggling to afford food. Mother told me he believed a pack was only as strong as its weakest members. He paid his workers fairly, supported struggling families, and never allowed anyone to go hungry when he could help. Most importantly, he trusted the Alpha. The two men had once fought beside each other, shared countless meals, and discussed plans for the future of Crystal Moon Pack. The Alpha called my father his brother, and my father believed him. He never imagined that their friendship was nothing more than a weapon waiting to be turned against him. It began when the Alpha asked my father to review the pack's financial accounts. Money intended for territorial expansion and defense had mysteriously disappeared. Supplies purchased for the pack never arrived, and several suspicious transactions carried the Alpha's authorization. My father discovered the irregularities and confronted his friend. According to Mother, the Alpha listened calmly, thanked him for bringing the matter to his attention, and promised to investigate. Three days later, accusations of theft spread throughout the pack. The man who had spent years helping Crystal Moon suddenly became its most hated traitor. --- The guards arrived at our home early one morning. I remembered the noise more clearly than anything else: cupboards slamming, furniture scraping across the floor, and my mother's frightened voice begging the men to explain what they wanted. I clung to her dress while strangers searched through our belongings. "Please," she begged. "At least tell us what you're looking for." "Orders from the Alpha." "But why?" The guard ignored her. When Father arrived, he stopped in the doorway, staring at the overturned furniture and scattered documents. "Who authorized this?" "The Alpha," one guard replied. Father's expression hardened. "Take me to him." Before leaving, he knelt and kissed my forehead. "Be a good girl for your mother, little star." I caught his sleeve. "Where are you going?" "To settle a misunderstanding." "When will you come back?" He smiled, although something troubled his eyes. "Before dinner." I believed him. I waited for him all afternoon, listening for his footsteps and running to the door whenever someone approached. He never came home. By the following morning, everyone in Crystal Moon Pack knew about the accusations. People who had once greeted Father warmly now avoided his eyes. Shopkeepers refused to serve him, business partners abandoned him, and his accounts were frozen. His properties were seized, and his businesses were taken apart piece by piece. Within weeks, the man who had provided for hundreds of families had lost almost everything. But the Alpha wasn't satisfied. He claimed Father had been stealing for years and accused him of betraying the pack during difficult times. Every day brought another allegation, and every allegation created another reason for people to hate him. Soon, even those who had never met Father spoke about his supposed crimes as though they had witnessed them personally. Mother tried to defend him. She visited former friends, carried documents proving his legitimate transactions, and begged the pack elders to investigate the missing money. Most refused to open their doors. One woman who had once celebrated Mother's birthday called her a disgrace for defending a criminal. Mother returned home that evening and cried until she could barely speak. Father sat beside her and took her hands. "I will clear my name," he promised. "What if they refuse to listen?" "Then I will keep speaking." "What if they take everything from us?" He glanced toward the room where I slept. "They can take our possessions, Eleanor. They cannot make a lie into the truth." Mother said he smiled when he spoke those words. But after she fell asleep, he remained at the kitchen table until dawn, studying documents and searching for a way to expose the Alpha. He understood something Mother hadn't yet accepted. The Alpha wasn't interested in discovering the truth. He wanted to make sure nobody would ever believe it. --- The final blow came when the Alpha summoned Father before the pack council. Mother accompanied him, hoping the elders would remember the man they had once respected. Father wore his best dark suit, although it no longer fitted properly. He had lost weight, and exhaustion shadowed his face. Before entering the council chamber, he took Mother's hand. "Whatever happens today, don't let them teach our daughter to hate herself." Mother didn't understand his words. She only knew that he sounded frightened. Inside, the Alpha sat at the head of a long table. Documents lay before him, supposedly proving Father's crimes. The elders listened as the accusations were read aloud. When the reading ended, Father stepped forward. "These documents are false." The Alpha leaned back. "Are you accusing me of presenting false evidence before this council?" "I'm saying the transactions have been altered. The original records show that the money was transferred under your authorization." Murmurs spread through the chamber. The Alpha gestured to another stack of papers. "Then explain these." Father examined the documents. His face drained of color. They contained signatures bearing his name alongside transactions he had never approved. "I didn't sign these." "Your own signature, Elias." "Someone forged it." "Who?" Father looked directly at him. "You know who." Silence settled over the room. For one brief moment, Mother believed the elders would demand an investigation. Instead, the Alpha rose. "You stand accused of stealing from the people who trusted you, yet you dare to accuse your accusers?" "I gave this pack everything I had!" Father shouted. "I employed your people, fed struggling families, and used my own money to repair homes after the storms. And now you call me a thief?" "Watch your tone." "Why? Because you're the Alpha? Does that make your lies the truth?" The guards approached. Mother stepped forward, but Father caught her hand, silently urging her to remain behind him. Even then, he was trying to protect her. The council declared him guilty. His businesses and remaining properties would remain confiscated, his name would be removed from the records of honored citizens, and he would no longer be permitted to conduct business within Crystal Moon territory. Mother begged the elders to reconsider. She reminded them of Father's service and demanded that they investigate the missing funds. One elder looked away. Another told her the decision had already been made. The Alpha didn't even acknowledge her. As the guards escorted my parents from the chamber, Father turned back. "You know I'm innocent." The Alpha's reply was quiet enough that only those nearby could hear it. "Perhaps you should have thought of that before you became a problem." Mother never forgot those words. Neither would I. --- Losing his wealth had been devastating, but losing his reputation was worse. Father continued searching for evidence that would expose the Alpha. He contacted former business partners, questioned people who had handled the accounts, and tried to recover the original documents. Every lead ended in disappointment. Witnesses changed their stories. Records disappeared. People who had promised to help suddenly became afraid. Then the threats began. Mother found unsigned letters beneath our door. Some warned Father to stop asking questions. Others reminded him that he had a wife and daughter to protect. One evening, she confronted him in their bedroom. "How long are we going to live like this?" Father stared at a letter in his hands. "Until I find a way to prove what he has done." "And if you can't?" He looked toward me. "Then our daughter will grow up knowing the truth, even if the whole world refuses to accept it." Mother began to cry. "I don't want our daughter to grow up without her father." His expression crumpled. He pulled her into his arms. "Neither do I." They remained together for a long time before Father whispered, "I'm sorry, Eleanor. I thought my friendship with him meant something." "You trusted the wrong man." "No," he murmured. "I trusted a man who knew exactly how to make trust look like friendship." Those were among the last peaceful moments they shared. Not long afterward, Father discovered something important—evidence he believed could expose the Alpha's scheme. He told Mother he needed one more day. One more day to gather the proof. One more day to clear his name. He left home that morning, promising to return. By evening, a messenger arrived with news of his death. Mother collapsed. I remembered fragments of what followed: her screams, the neighbors gathering outside our door, and the terrible stillness of the room where Father's body lay. I remembered touching his hand and asking him to wake up. I remembered Mother pulling me into her arms while she sobbed against my hair. Most of all, I remembered the funeral. The Alpha stood among the mourners dressed in black. He spoke of Father as a complicated man whose mistakes had brought sorrow to his family. Mother stood at the back of the crowd, clutching my hand. She said nothing. When the grave was covered, I looked up at her. "Why did Father have to die?" She knelt before me, tears running down her face. "Sometimes, my love, bad things happen to good people." "But Father was good." "I know." "Then why won't he come home?" She pulled me into her arms. I cried until my throat hurt, unable to understand why goodness hadn't saved him. Behind us, the Alpha watched the grave being filled. He didn't cry or look away. He simply turned and walked back toward the mansion. Father's body was buried beneath the earth, and his reputation remained buried beneath a mountain of lies. --- When Mother finished speaking, the rain had stopped. I sat beside her, clutching Father's portrait against my chest. For the first time, I understood why people looked at us with hatred. It wasn't because we were poor. It wasn't because Father had been weak. Someone powerful had decided that destroying our family was easier than allowing the truth to emerge. "Mother?" She touched my cheek. "Yes, sweetheart?" "Did the Alpha kill Father?" Her face went pale. "Seraphina—" "Did he?" She looked toward the window. "I don't know what happened that day," she whispered. "But I know your father was afraid of him. And I know the Alpha took everything from us before your father died." I stared at the portrait. "Then why doesn't everyone hate the Alpha?" "Because people are afraid of losing what they have." "Will they ever know the truth?" She took my hand. "One day, perhaps." I wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe that the truth mattered and that the man who had destroyed our family would eventually answer for his crimes. But I was only ten years old. I didn't understand how difficult it was to make powerful people pay for what they had done. I didn't know that the Alpha had noticed Mother's refusal to remain silent. And I didn't know that our suffering wasn't over. Mother returned the box beneath her bed before gathering me into her arms. "Whatever happens, Seraphina, you must survive." I frowned against her shoulder. "Why are you saying that?" She held me tighter. "Because you're all I have left." I wrapped my arms around her neck. "And you're all I have." For a moment, we remained that way, two people holding on to each other in a world that had already taken so much from us. I thought understanding Father's death would make the pain easier to bear. Instead, it gave my pain a name. The Alpha had destroyed my father, and the people who could have defended him had chosen their comfort over the truth. I was ten years old, powerless, and unable to change anything. But as I looked at Father's portrait one last time, a question settled inside me. If my father had done nothing wrong, why had everyone been so determined to destroy him? I didn't know the answer. I only knew that one day, I would find it. And when I did, I would make sure the truth could no longer be buried.

Seraphina's POV Knock. Knock. Knock. The sound shattered the silence. I lifted my head from my mother's shoulder, my heart pounding against my ribs. Outside, the wind rattled our broken window, and moonlight spilled across the wooden floor. Nobody visited us at night unless they had orders to deliver or another way to remind us that we no longer belonged in Crystal Moon Pack. My mother tightened her arms around me. "Don't move," she whispered. Before I could ask why, three more knocks struck the door. "Open up!" a man commanded. "By order of the Alpha!" My mother's face went pale. I remembered those words. They were the same words the guards had used when they searched our home after Father was accused of stealing from the pack. But Father was dead. Our wealth was gone. Our family name had become an insult. What else could the Alpha possibly want from us? My mother slowly rose from the bed. "Stay here, Seraphina." I caught her wrist. "Don't open it." She looked down at my trembling fingers. For a moment, her expression softened, and she brushed her thumb across my knuckles. "I won't be long, sweetheart." "Please don't go." Something broke in my voice. She bent down and kissed my forehead. "Whatever you hear, don't come outside unless I call you." Then she walked toward the door. I watched her reach for the handle, silently praying that whoever stood outside would leave us alone. My mother opened the door. Two guards stood on the doorstep. Behind them was Morgan Vex, the head cook from the Alpha's mansion. She wore a dark cloak, and her expression was as unpleasant as ever. "What is this about?" my mother asked. One of the guards unfolded a piece of paper. "Eleanor Vale?" "Yes." "You are required to accompany us to the Alpha's residence." My mother stared at him. "At this hour? For what?" "That is not our concern." She glanced at Morgan. "Have I done something wrong?" Morgan laughed bitterly. "You people always ask that question." "My husband is dead. I have done nothing to trouble this pack." "And yet your family continues to create problems." My mother's fingers tightened around the door. "Please explain what this is about." The guard stepped forward. "Come peacefully, woman. Don't make this difficult." My mother glanced back at me. Our eyes met. For the first time, I saw a kind of fear in her expression that I had never seen before. She wasn't afraid of being insulted or losing another possession. She was afraid of what would happen to me if she didn't return. "Let me get my shawl," she said quietly. The guard nodded. "Quickly." My mother turned and walked toward me. I scrambled off the bed and wrapped my arms around her waist. "Don't go, Mother!" She held my shoulders. "Seraphina, listen to me." "No! They're going to hurt you!" She swallowed, and her eyes glistened. "I need you to be brave." "I don't want to be brave! I want you to stay with me!" My voice echoed through the tiny room. I hated how frightened I sounded. I hated that I was only ten years old and already understood how little promises could do to protect the people I loved. My mother pulled me into her arms. For several seconds, neither of us spoke. Then she whispered against my hair, "Your father loved us more than anything in this world. Never forget that." I pulled away. "Why are you talking about Father?" "Because I need you to remember that you come from a good family, no matter what these people tell you." She removed the thin silver chain from around her neck. A small pendant hung from it, the one she had worn for as long as I could remember. She placed it in my palm and folded my fingers over it. "Keep this safe." "What is it?" "Something your father gave me." "Why are you giving it to me now? You can give it to me tomorrow." She looked away. For a moment, I thought she might tell me something important. Instead, she drew me into another embrace. "I love you, my little star." "I love you too." She kissed my forehead, then stood. I watched her walk toward the door, clutching the pendant. At the threshold, she stopped and looked back. She tried to smile. I tried to smile back. Neither of us succeeded. Then the guards escorted her into the darkness. The door closed. And I was alone. --- I don't know how long I stood there. I kept expecting the door to open again. I imagined my mother returning with an exhausted smile, telling me everything had been a misunderstanding. I imagined her taking off her shawl, climbing into bed, and holding me until we fell asleep. But the door remained closed. I climbed onto the bed and wrapped myself in the blanket. The silver pendant rested against my chest, cold against my skin. "Please bring my mother home," I whispered. Outside, a wolf howled somewhere beyond the pack's borders. I tried to convince myself that everything would be fine. The guards had only said she was summoned. They hadn't said she was being arrested or sent away. My mother would return. She had promised she would. And I desperately wanted to believe that my mother never broke her promises. Then I heard a scream. It came from somewhere beyond the servants' courtyard. A woman's voice, sharp with fear. I sat upright. Silence followed. Then another scream tore through the night. I knew that voice. I knew it better than my own. "Mother?" I scrambled out of bed and ran toward the door. The moment I opened it, the cold night air rushed against my face. The corridor was empty, but a lantern flickered at the far end. Beyond the courtyard, the Alpha's mansion stood beneath the moonlight, its windows glowing like watching eyes. I ran. I didn't think about the consequences. I didn't think about what the Alpha might do if he caught me. I only knew that my mother was somewhere out there, and she was crying for help. My bare feet slapped against the stone as I crossed the courtyard and hurried past the laundry building. I slipped between two storage sheds and approached the side entrance of the mansion. Voices drifted through an open window. I recognized Morgan's sharp tone. "She should have known better than to keep quiet about what her husband did." Another voice answered. "That's enough, Morgan." The Alpha. I pressed myself against the wall, my hands trembling. "She knows something," Morgan insisted. "I've seen the way she looks at you. She knows you were involved." "Then she should have kept her suspicions to herself." A pause followed. Then my mother's voice broke through the silence. "I don't know anything." My knees nearly gave way. She was there. She was alive. "You're lying," Morgan snapped. "You expect us to believe your husband never told you anything?" "He told me he was innocent!" I covered my mouth. Even now, my mother was defending Father. The Alpha sighed. "Your husband was given every opportunity to accept responsibility for his actions." "He committed no crime!" "Enough." His voice silenced the room. When he spoke again, the false patience had disappeared. "Your husband made a serious mistake when he decided to challenge me. He should have understood that some matters were beyond his authority." My mother's breathing sounded ragged. "You destroyed him." Silence followed. Then the Alpha laughed softly. "Your husband destroyed himself." "No! You took his businesses. You stole his land. You turned his friends against him. You made the whole pack believe he was a thief." "Careful, Eleanor." "You forged those documents!" My blood turned cold. I had never heard anyone accuse the Alpha so directly. Not in the streets. Not in the mansion. Not even in the whispers my mother exchanged with the few people she still trusted. "You know what you did," she continued. "You know Elias was innocent." The Alpha's voice dropped. "And you know what happens to people who refuse to learn when to remain silent." A chair scraped across the floor. I pressed my back against the cold stone, terrified that someone might discover me. I wanted to run for help, but who would help us? The servants feared the Alpha. The guards obeyed him. Even the elders had refused to listen to my father. I was ten years old. I had no power, no money, and nobody who could protect me. Then my mother gasped. "Please. I have done nothing to you." The Alpha answered without hesitation. "Neither did your husband, according to you. Yet look where that got him." I bit my hand to keep from crying out. A moment later, the door opened. I ducked behind a stack of wooden crates as a guard emerged into the courtyard. He glanced around before calling into the room. "She's ready." Ready for what? The question repeated itself in my mind. Then two men appeared, supporting my mother between them. Her head hung forward, and her hair had come loose. She looked exhausted, as though she could barely stand. I wanted to rush toward her. I wanted to grab her hand and take her home. But then she lifted her head. Her eyes moved across the courtyard, searching. Searching for me. I pressed my trembling hand over my mouth. Please don't look here, Mother. I wasn't afraid of her finding me. I was afraid the Alpha would discover I had been listening and take me away too. My mother struggled against the men holding her. "Where are you taking me?" "Somewhere you can learn to mind your own business," one of them muttered. "Let me go!" She stumbled, and the guard dragged her upright. I could no longer remain hidden. My body moved before my mind could stop it. "Mother!" Every head turned. My mother froze. For one terrible second, nobody spoke. Then her eyes widened. "Seraphina, no!" I ran toward her, but a guard caught me around the waist before I could reach her. I kicked and struggled, screaming my mother's name. "Let me go! Let me go!" "Seraphina!" my mother cried. I stretched my arms toward her. "Mother!" She fought against the men holding her. "Don't touch my daughter!" The Alpha appeared in the doorway. He looked at me with cold irritation, the same expression he wore whenever someone dared to disobey him. "Well," he said. "Look what we have here." The guard holding me lowered his head. "She followed us, Alpha." The Alpha approached until he stood directly before me. "Do you know what happens to children who wander into places where they don't belong?" I shook my head. My throat had closed. He smiled. "You should have stayed in your room." My mother pulled against the guards. "She is a child! Leave her alone!" The Alpha ignored her. "Children must learn." "She has done nothing!" "Neither did her father, apparently." My mother's face twisted with fury. "You monster!" The courtyard fell silent. The Alpha slowly turned toward her. For the first time, I saw genuine anger in his eyes. "Take her away." "No!" I screamed. The guards dragged my mother toward the rear gate. I struggled so violently that the man holding me nearly lost his grip. "Mother! Please!" She twisted around, reaching for me. "Seraphina, listen to me!" I could barely hear her over my sobs. "Don't let them make you believe their lies!" The guards pulled her farther away. "Mother!" She screamed my name. I screamed hers. Then the gate slammed shut between us. The sound echoed through the courtyard. I stared at the closed gate, waiting for someone to open it. Waiting for my mother to return. Waiting for the world to make sense again. But nobody came. --- "Take the girl back to her room," the Alpha ordered. The guard tightened his grip. I struck his arm with my fists. "Where is my mother?" He ignored me. "Where are you taking her?" The Alpha started walking away. "That is none of your concern." I stared at his back, unable to understand how someone could be so cruel. "You took my father," I whispered. "You took our home. You took everything we had." He stopped. Slowly, he turned toward me. I was crying so hard that I could barely see him. "Your father took what did not belong to him," he said. "Your mother would do well to remember that." "He didn't steal anything!" My voice cracked. "He was a good man!" The Alpha regarded me for several seconds. "Do you know what your problem is, Seraphina?" I shook my head. "You have been allowed to believe that being innocent makes you untouchable." He leaned closer. "It doesn't." Fear silenced me. He straightened and looked at the guard. "Make sure she understands that." Then he walked away. The guard dragged me toward our room. I kicked, screamed, and begged him to release me, but nobody came to help. The servants watched from their windows. The guards looked away. The mansion swallowed my cries as though they were nothing more than another unpleasant sound to ignore. When the door finally closed behind me, I collapsed onto the floor. My hands shook uncontrollably. My chest hurt, and I couldn't stop crying. I crawled toward the bed and reached for my mother's blanket. It still carried her familiar scent. I pressed it against my face. "Please come back," I whispered. No one answered. I waited through the night, listening for footsteps outside the door. Every sound made me lift my head. Every passing voice made me hope someone had come to tell me my mother was safe. But morning arrived without her. And with every passing hour, my hope began to crumble. --- By midday, I could no longer pretend that nothing had happened. I went to the kitchen and found Morgan cutting vegetables beside the preparation table. "Where is my mother?" I asked. She didn't look up. "Back to work, girl." "Please. I want to know where she is." "The Alpha has dealt with your mother." My stomach twisted. "What does that mean?" Morgan's knife struck the cutting board. "It means you should stop asking questions." I stared at her. "Will she come back?" Morgan finally lifted her head. There was no kindness in her expression. "People who challenge the Alpha rarely get what they want." I backed away, my legs suddenly weak. I searched the laundry room, the servants' courtyard, and the narrow path behind the storage sheds. I asked the servants. I asked the guards. I even approached a maid who had once smiled at me when she thought nobody was watching. Nobody gave me an answer. By evening, I returned to our room. The bed was empty. My mother's clothes were still folded beside the wall, and her wooden box remained beneath the bed. Everything looked exactly as she had left it. Everything except her. I sank onto the mattress and opened my palm. The silver pendant lay against my skin. I closed my fingers around it, remembering the way she had pressed it into my hand. Keep this safe. I remembered her promise to return. I remembered her final embrace. And I remembered the Alpha's words. Your mother would do well to remember that. A terrible thought entered my mind. What if my mother never came back? I shook my head. "No." The word escaped as a whisper. "No, Mother. Please." I pressed her blanket against my chest, but it could not replace the warmth of her arms. She was all I had left. Without her, there would be nobody to tell me that I was loved. Nobody to remind me that my father had been a good man. Nobody to hold me when the world became too cruel. Tears blurred my vision. I had lost my father. Now the Alpha had taken my mother. And I was beginning to understand that nobody in Crystal Moon Pack cared what happened to a little girl who had nothing left to offer them. I curled up on the bed, clutching the pendant. "Mother, I will find you," I whispered. My voice trembled. "I don't know where they've taken you, but I will find you." I swallowed the sob rising in my throat. "And if they have hurt you, I will never forgive them." Outside, wolves howled beneath the moon. Inside our little room, a ten-year-old girl sat alone with a silver pendant, a broken heart, and a promise she was too young to understand. I did not know where my mother had been taken. I did not know whether she was safe. And I did not know that the Alpha had already decided what would happen to me next. I only knew that I wanted my mother back. And for the first time in my life, I was terrified that wanting something with all my heart would not be enough to save it.