The Blood‑Moon Festival is about to begin. Seraphina, my partner’s childhood friend, drags me to a cursed silver guillotine to film a prank video. Poisonous silver burns my throat and numbs my vocal cords. I cannot make a sound to call for help. Karen, my wolf‑king partner, believes Seraphina’s lies and tells me to lie still. “Ella, stop throwing a fit. Just play along with Seraphina’s little trick.” To cover up what she has done, Seraphina wraps my broken neck beneath a black lace veil. At the festival’s peak, Karen orders my lifeless body to wake before the entire wolf clan. When the curtain pulls away, the last thread binding my soul to my flesh snaps. Our mate bond shatters. He collapses onto the ground where I lie, letting out a heart‑broken wail. Floating as a ghost, I watch him frantically try to piece my broken body back together. Inside me, there is nothing but cold silence. This time, I will leave him stranded in the dark forever. Chapter 1 Ella’s Point of View Twenty minutes remain until the Blood‑Moon Festival. Excited howls of wolves echo all through Blackwood Castle. I am an Omega, lowest in the wolf‑clan hierarchy. I ought to stay out of sight, fixing my formal gown. But Seraphina, the spoiled daughter of the former Alpha, has other plans. Cold hands cover my eyes from behind and shove me toward the great hall. “Don’t struggle, Ella,” she sneers. As a Beta, her strength easily overpowers my frail frame. “I need to record something special for tonight’s celebration.” I stumble onto the altar’s cold wooden surface. Before I can scream, Seraphina shoves my shoulders down. My knees crash hard against the floor, and my jaw is forced into a wooden restraint. A burning pain explodes across the back of my neck. I stare in horror — I am trapped beneath a silver guillotine. The ancient frame hums with dark curse‑magic meant to muffle sounds and mask injury — weaving a false veil of life over dying flesh, so every onlooker’s senses swear the victim still lives. Silver is deadly to our kind. It burns wolf‑flesh and poisons our blood like strong acid. *Click.* Seraphina unlocks the runes holding the heavy silver blade above me. The metal sinks into my skin. I thrash in agony, my wolf‑spirit whimpering deep inside my mind. Wolves all around watch and laugh, convinced this is just a realistic ritual performance for the Moon Goddess. Seraphina holds up a glowing memory crystal. “Hold that expression, Ella! Just ten more seconds!” she cheers, capturing my suffering. The crowd parts. A scent of pine and storm fills the air. It is Karen. Alpha of Blackwood, my fated mate. He strides to the altar, dark velvet cape swirling behind him. He takes my shaking hand. “Ella, do not be stubborn. Cooperate with Seraphina’s game.” His voice speaks directly into my mind through our wolf‑link. Silver poison has stolen my voice. I beg him with my eyes, twisting against the wood. Karen sighs. He thinks I am merely a jealous, temperamental Omega. He pats the back of my neck in reassurance. That gentle tap pushes the blade deeper, severing my carotid artery. Hot blood floods my throat. I choke, yet no sound escapes my lips. Karen brushes a tear from my cheek. “I will see you soon, my dramatic little mate,” he murmurs. He draws the heavy curtain shut, sealing me in darkness. My blood soaks my dark gown. Stiff lace and red altar roses hide what has happened. My breathing stops. My heart beats its final time. I die alone behind the curtain. Moments later, I feel light. My spirit drifts upward. I look down at my body, still held in the guillotine. Only our fated‑mate tether keeps my ghost bound to this world. A mate bond never cries out when a wolf dies, I understand now; it stays silent, holding all its grief until the moment it snaps. On the altar lies the forgotten memory crystal. It glows, recording the exact moment my mate’s careless gesture drove the silver blade into me.

Ella’s Point of View The curtain pulls open again. Karen and Seraphina step behind the altar. Seraphina kneels by the guillotine, pouring magic into the crystal, desperate to erase its footage. But once it touches real blood, the sacred crystal locks its recording permanently. “Karen, look!” she forces a laugh, pretending to edit illusions. “See how wildly Ella reacts? The clan will love this.” Karen ignores the crystal. He goes to my body and lifts my cold hand onto my lap. The fated‑mate spark he expects never comes. A flicker of unease crosses his face, then he smothers it. Cursed silver has chilled my whole body; he mistakes my cold skin for nervous sweat. My wolf‑spirit hovers before his face, screaming silently for him to notice my wounds. But my body sits motionless. My black lace collar holds my chin up, as if I sit there sulking. “She is just sweating from fright,” Seraphina says dismissively. “Omegas are so timid.” Her words quiet Karen’s Alpha instincts. He takes off his heavy velvet cape and drapes it over my shoulders, covering the stains. His pine scent masks the smell of death. “Ella, stand. The festival is starting,” he says. I do not move. When he tries to lift me, the silver blade shifts. My head tilts sharply to one side. He believes my stillness is stubborn anger over Seraphina stealing attention. “I promise,” he whispers to my unseeing eyes, “once the festival ends, I will make Seraphina destroy this crystal.” “Absolutely not!” Seraphina objects. Karen gives in. “Very well. Store the footage in clan archives, but leave Ella’s name off.” This has always been the way. When Seraphina ruined my gowns or stole my healing herbs, Karen always told me to be understanding, for she had lost her parents. He smooths my black veil, hiding my fatal injury. “Stay here and calm down,” he tells my corpse. He drags the complaining Seraphina away. I am left alone again, dead, with the glowing crystal replaying my tragedy.

Ella’s Point of View Seraphina sneaks back behind the scenes for the memory crystal. Hearing praise for her “special‑effects” prank from festival guests, she grins with relief. She pokes my arm. “Quit pretending, Ella. The Alpha is gone.” Beneath the cape, I do not stir. She activates the crystal and points it toward us. “Since our future Luna is unwell,” she announces, “I will host the Blood‑Moon Festival in her place!” She shoves my head down hard to force me into a bow. A sharp jolt runs through my spirit. The last connecting tissue in my neck snaps. The curtain flies open. Karen storms in, golden eyes blazing with Alpha fury. “Ella!” he snarls. “Are you refusing to host just to turn me against Seraphina?” Seraphina bursts into fake tears and steps between him and my body. “It is all my fault! I only wished to help her!” Karen softens toward her. He glares at my silent form. “Must you make her cry?” Layla, the clan healer, hurries inside. She has the sharpest nose in the castle. “We need to move this execution stand right away,” she says. Then she sniffs the air. “There is far too much blood.” Seraphina quickly lies, claiming she spilled animal blood for the show. Layla moves to lift my veil and check my breathing. Seraphina slaps her hand away, arguing about ritual makeup. A wolf howl echoes from the main hall. The crowd grows impatient. Karen grabs Layla’s wrist and pulls her back. “She is fine,” he insists. “My mate only wants me to coax her.” He takes out a moonstone brooch, our old engagement gift, and pins it to my velvet cape. “Please, Ella,” he whispers against my veil, “do not leave me alone tonight.” He turns and walks off. “Do not be late for the ceremony.” My head hangs loose, barely held by black lace.