Page 158 of Moonlit Fate

“Look at this mess,” I muttered. I could feel the splatter of every drop of rain, every gust of wind that I had summoned in my rage. They were supposed to be tools, allies, not weapons that wreaked havoc.

My hands shook as I took it all in. Philesia’s words echoed in my head. Control, balance, harmony. All things she drilled into me, all things I had cast aside when I let loose the storm.

“I should’ve known better.” Guilt tore through me like the floodwaters through the land. I should’ve kept it in check. The scars on the land were as deep as the ones forming inside me. This was my doing. My battle, my fury, turned against the very place I was meant to protect.

“We’ll fix this, Aria. I’ll help you fix it,” Atticus said.

I clenched my fists. The destruction was mine to own, but so was the future. Standing still wouldn’t rebuild homes or mend hearts. I had to move, act, be the leader my pack needed.

I couldn’t change what was done, but I could shape what’s to come. With purpose in each step, I walked toward the manor. Its walls had seen generations weather their own storms; now it would witness our resilience. I pushed the heavy doors open, the creak echoing through the empty halls.

“Let this be our sanctuary,” I said. I glanced back at the chaos once more before stepping inside. “We’ll start here. We’ll heal here.”

I ran through to the kitchen where the staff were huddled together for safety, their wild eyes and fear feeding the guilt. I’d caused this. I’d made these people feel unsafe in their own home.

“I need as many volunteers as I can get,” I called out. “I need you to run into the village, reach out to anyone in the pack displaced by the flood. Tell them Alpha Aria has opened the manor to them all.”

Shakily, three of the younger yard hands got to their feet.

“Tell them to come here, Alpha?” one asked incredulously.

“Yes. Go, now,” I urged.

They took off out the kitchen door, each running in a different direction to spread the word.

“It seems we are about to have visitors,” I said to the remaining staff. “Can we ensure there is food, clothes, and blankets ready for them?”

The first of them arrived just as the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows over the battered land. A family of four, their eyes wide with a mix of fear and relief as they approached the manor. Their belongings were few, salvaged from the ruins of what was once a home.

“Welcome,” I said, stepping forward to meet them.

“Is it true?” the mother asked, her voice trembling. “Is this place open to all?”

“Yes,” I said, offering a small, comforting smile. “You are safe here.”

I led them inside, Atticus’s silent presence at my back a steady reassurance.

“Here, let me take that,” Atticus offered, gently relieving the father of a tattered suitcase.

Rooms were plenty, and I assigned one to the family, handing them blankets still warm from the storage by the hearth.

“Rest now,” I said. “You’re home.”

As night fell, more came. Some alone, others in groups, all weary. I greeted them with a nod or a touch on the shoulder. “Come in,” I said. “Find warmth. Find rest.”

“Thank you,” a young man whispered as I handed him a blanket.

“Thank you,” echoed an elderly woman, her hands shaking as she accepted my help up the stairs.

“Thank you” wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I wasn’t doing this for thanks. I did it because it was right, because it was needed. Because they were only here because I couldn’t control my powers.

“Atticus, can you—” I started to say, turning to find him already moving with the staff, distributing blankets.

“Got it,” he replied calmly.

We worked together until the manor buzzed with life. In the main hall, the fire crackled, its light flickering over tired but hopeful faces. I stood there for a bit, watching, listening to the voices blending into a song of survival.

“Will they forgive me?” I asked, twisting my hands together.

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