Page 147 of Moonlit Fate

“Your aspirations for the pack, Aria… they seem to align with hers, don’t they?” Eldan asked.

I paused, considering. The journalwasa mirror reflecting my own yearnings for our pack. “Yeah,” I said finally. “They do.”

“Then they’re not nonsense,” he stated matter-of-factly. “If she could lead the pack in that way, so can you.”

His words settled in my chest, a buoyant hope taking root. Maybe my dreams weren’t so far-fetched. Perhaps, like Thea, I could weave them into reality.

I clutched the journal to my chest, the leather crackling softly under my grip. Tears blurred my vision as I scanned the room, a silent plea for privacy. Eldan caught my eye, understanding without words. He nodded, gently steering Seren toward the door.

“Take your time,” he said. “We’ll be outside.”

The door clicked shut behind them, leaving me alone with Thea’s legacy. My hands shook as I opened the journal again, but this time it wasn’t just curiosity that fueled me, it wasconnection. Thea’s words leaped from the pages, her strength and wisdom enveloping me like an embrace from the past.

“Great-great-great-grandmother,” I whispered. She had been more than a leader; she was a beacon of hope that resonated across generations. I felt her presence, a gentle urging to remember who I was, where I came from.

Strength surged through my veins, a resolve so fierce it startled me. closing the journal, I tucked it under my arm. This wasn’t just a book; it was a call to arms, a reminder of the duty that ran in my blood.

“I will protect them,” I promised the empty room, picturing every face in my pack. “Just like you did, Thea.”

Without another glance at my father’s office, I slipped out and closed the door behind me. I needed the solitude of my own space—not my father’s—to absorb every word, every intent. In the quiet, away from prying eyes, I would honor Thea’s memory and forge my path forward.

36

ARIA

Ipaced at the edge of the woods, absentmindedly tracing the crescent moon birthmark on my collarbone. The ground beneath my pulsed with an energy that seeped into my veins. I was at the battlegrounds, where the whispers of the ancients floated through the leaves.

“Come on, Philesia,” I muttered, my impatience growing with every rustle in the underbrush.

The temperature dropped suddenly, cold air gusting around me. I turned sharply as Philesia materialized before me, her presence commanding even in silence. Bright white hair framed an ageless face that emanated a powerful combination of sternness and kindness. It was her eyes, however, that revealed the depth of her wisdom.

“Are you ready?” she asked, her eyes locked on mine.

Her sudden appearance made me tremble. I clenched my fists to disguise my reaction. “Teach me,” I demanded.

Philesia nodded once, her sharp gaze never leaving mine. “Magic is intention. You must channel it with purpose. Show me what you can do.”

I tried to focus, envisioning my power as a stream of water, my will the banks guiding its flow. Extending my hand out, I attempted to summon a simple gust of wind. Instead, an uncontrolled torrent erupted. Leaves and dirt swirled around us, the air singing in my ears.

“Steady,” Philesia commanded. “Your fear scatters your power. Use it, don’t let it use you.”

I bit back my frustration and nodded stiffly. The next attempt was less chaotic, but still far from controlled.

“Again,” she insisted.

I repeated the motions over and over, each cycle a battle against my own instincts. My muscles ached and sweat trickled down my back. Slowly, so slowly, the patterns of nature’s forces began to reveal themselves to me.

“Feel the elements,” Philesia guided. “They dance to a rhythm older than time itself. Join them, become one with them.”

I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. This time, my magic responded with a whisper instead of a shout. Leaves lifted gently on a breeze that came at my beckoning.

“It’s not just about power,” Philesia said. “It’s about balance. It’s essential, in magic and life.”

I nodded, wiping sweat from my brow.

“Your destiny is far greater than you know. It will demand everything from you—your strength, your wisdom, your heart.”

“Everything?” I asked barely above a whisper.

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