Chapter 78

Elara

The lanterns flickered softly against the night sky, their warm glow swaying in time with the breeze that danced through the courtyard. Even from this distance, I could still hear the faint music from the reception, the low murmur of conversation punctuated by bursts of laughter.

But out here, it felt quieter—like the rest of the world had softened just for us.

I walked slowly along the stone path, my hand resting lightly in my mother’s. Her grip was warm and gentle but oddly tight, as if she was afraid to let go even for a second in case we might drift apart again. I understood that feeling all too well.

“You didn’t have to do all of this. You didn’t have to come here,” I murmured, watching the curve of her mouth as she smiled faintly at the lanterns overhead. “I know how much it must have taken just to show up. You’ve got your own things to worry about.”

“But I wanted to,” she said simply, shooting me a sidelong glance. “It’s not every day that your daughter gets married. And even less often that you get to find your daughter again after a lifetime apart.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to stop the sudden prick of hot tears that were tickling the backs of my eyes.

Daughter. The word still felt heavy coming from her, but not in a bad way—more like a weight that I wasn’t entirely sure how to carry yet. Maybe I wouldn’t ever figure out how to.

It had only been two months since we had found each other again in the strangest of ways. Two months since the night Sarah had died screaming beneath the hands of the moonwolves she had spent years tormenting. Two months since I had watched my mother walk off into the forest with the others in search of some sort of ‘promised land’.

I hadn’t known what to expect when the dust settled, when the adrenaline faded and the moonwolves walked free into the world they had been stolen from.

I didn’t expect her to come back.

But she did.

And truthfully, I was glad she had.

“How are… things?” I asked, suddenly cringing at the awkwardness in my tone.

My mother’s gaze shifted to me again, her eyes soft but knowing. “Better. We’re still searching for our promised land, but for now, we found an unclaimed territory to settle on—far enough into the wilderness that no one will come looking. For now, it’s peaceful. But there are still dangers.”

I nodded faintly, knowing what she was talking about.

Sarah’s family and their allies were still out there, somewhere. The same people who had hunted moonwolves for centuries, who saw them as nothing more than tools—as sources of special blood that could be drained and sold to the highest bidder. Sarah’s death hadn’t changed that very much.

“I do worry that my sudden return as the ‘Ambassador of the Moonwolves’ will cause issues,” my mother continued quietly. “But Alaric believes that a treaty between the packs and the moonwolves will be a possibility in time. And I believe in him.”

A breath I hadn’t realized I was holding slipped past my lips, and I felt my chest ease a little. Alaric hadn’t mentioned any of this to me—likely he was saving it as a wedding surprise. That, and I was so busy worrying about the wedding and the pregnancy to have space for more responsibilities.

But I believed him, too. Peace was an option for our future. And maybe my mother—my people—wouldn’t have to hide forever.

We walked a little further, the sound of the pebbles on the pathway crunching beneath our shoes. I could feel my mother watching me out of the corner of her eye, but she didn’t speak until the music faded slightly into the distance.

“I missed so much,” she said at last, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Your entire childhood… I should have been there. I’m sorry.”

My steps slowed as her words pulled me back to a place I hadn’t visited in a long time.

“I used to imagine what it would’ve been like,” I admitted quietly, keeping my gaze forward as if the path in front of me might somehow shield me from the memories. “When I was little, I used to tell the other kids in the orphanage that you were just lost. That you were looking for me and that you would find me someday. I think I even believed it for a while.”

I felt her flinch, just slightly, her grip on my hand tightening.

“Elara—”

“It’s okay,” I interrupted, forcing a small smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “I stopped telling that story eventually.”

We paused near the edge of the courtyard, where the trees rose higher and the lights thinned out. For a moment, neither of us spoke. The quiet stretched between us, but it wasn’t empty—not exactly.

“I wanted to get to you,” she whispered. “I fought to. But I couldn’t escape that place. Even then, all those years in there, I never forgave myself for leaving you behind. Even if it was the only way to keep you safe.”

I swallowed hard, the raw edge of her words cutting deeper than I expected.

“I’m not angry,” I said softly. “Not anymore.”

Her eyes found mine, searching, but whatever she saw there must have been enough.

After a long pause, she slipped her hand into the pocket of her gown, pulling out something small and glinting between her fingers.

“I had this made when you were born,” she murmured, holding it out. “I was going to give it to you on your sixteenth birthday, but of course… I wasn’t there for that.”

I took the pendant carefully, cradling it in my palm. It was simple, but beautiful—crafted from silver with a pale, glowing stone set in the center. Moonstone. The moonstone caught the light softly, shimmering with a faint luminescence.

“It’s stunning,” I breathed, turning it carefully between my fingers.

“Moonwolves wear these,” she explained, brushing the edge of the pendant with her thumb. “Only those born of moonwolf blood. They glow brighter beneath the full moon.”

I stared at it for a long moment, feeling the cool weight of it against my skin.

“You don’t have to wear it,” she added quickly. “I know what it could mean if someone saw—”

Shaking my head, I slipped the chain over my head before she could finish, letting the pendant settle just above my collarbone.

“I want to wear it,” I said simply, smoothing my hand over it.

Her expression softened, something glassy flickering behind her eyes.

“Elara,” she whispered, and I felt her arms wrap around me before I could say anything else.

I sank into the embrace, curling my arms tightly around her as I pressed my forehead into her shoulder.

For a moment, neither of us said a word. There was no need to. We just stood there, swaying gently together beneath the lantern-lit sky.

It wasn’t perfect. There were still cracks—still spaces between us that hadn’t fully healed, and they would take a long time to heal. But the warmth of my mother’s arms around me made those spaces feel smaller, shallower.

And as she held me, I found myself silently vowing to make up for every second we had lost over the years.