Chapter4

The side cave's chill seeped into my bones.

I lay on the straw pile, the whip wounds on my back throbbing with searing pain.

I bit down on a leather cord, applying crushed hemostatic herbs bit by bit to the wounds.

The herbs stung, but not as much as the burning sensation left by the silver thorns.

Footsteps approached, very light. I lifted my head.

My mother, Elara, stood outside the wooden gate. She held a small jar of salve, looking at me with no expression on her face.

"Mother." My voice was hoarse.

She unlocked the gate and came in, crouching beside me. She set the salve on the ground without touching me.

"Emily had nightmares." She began, her voice flat. "She cried all night, saying she dreamed you hated her, dreamed the Moon Fire was completely extinguished."

I said nothing, waiting.

"Why must you always be like this?" Mother finally looked at me, exhaustion and reproach in her eyes. "If you had voluntarily admitted fault before the ceremony, if you had been willing to bow your head and apologize to the elders, things wouldn't have escalated to this point. Your father wouldn't have... wouldn't have ordered the silver thorns."

I looked at her.

My mother. After I was publicly whipped, her first words were blaming me for not bowing my head.

"What did I do wrong that I need to admit fault for?" I asked.

"You brought shame to the family!" Her voice rose. "The Moon Fire was contaminated, the entire tribe saw it! Elder Glen identified you, naturally he had his reasons. Why can't you just comply for once? Why must you always defy, always prove you're right?"

The wounds on my back throbbed. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath. Dust and herb scent filled my nostrils.

"This salve," Mother pointed at the jar on the ground, "was prepared by the elder council, it's the most effective. Use it sparingly."

She paused. "Emily needs some too. She's so guilt-ridden she's developed a fever again, and her wounds hurt. I've already taken half to her."

I opened my eyes, thinking I'd heard wrong. "Half? For her?"

"She's your sister." Mother stood up, dusting off grass from her skirt. "She's physically weak, this incident frightened her badly. As her older sister, you can't only think of yourself."

She turned to leave.

"Mother." I called out.

She looked back.

"Did you see the wounds on my back?" I asked.

Her gaze swept over my bloody, mangled back, quickly moving away.

"The medicine will heal it. Werewolves recover quickly."

Then she left. The wooden gate closed again, the lock clicking.

I stared at the jar of salve, suddenly wanting to laugh. But the laugh caught in my throat, turning into a choking cough. The coughing tore at my back wounds, warm blood seeping out again.

This was my mother. After I was whipped by my father, she brought a jar of salve, but had already given half to the person who framed me.

Something in my chest went completely cold.

I don't know how long passed before another set of footsteps approached.

Outside the gate appeared a familiar face—Kai, a rogue werewolf who owed me a favor.

He looked around warily, quickly shoving a small leather pouch through the gap. "What you asked me to investigate."

I grabbed the pouch and opened it.

"The ambush point in the Black Forest was fabricated."

Kai lowered his voice.

"The mud prints show the moonstone crates were pried open from the inside, not attacked externally."

"Emily's leg wound—the angle is wrong, more like she fell herself or a shallow self-inflicted cut."

"Most importantly," he leaned closer, "I overheard Bloodfang Tribe sentries talking. They mentioned an agreement with a 'inside ally' from Darkmoon Tribe."

"Once you're sent to Silverfang Tribe, there will be an 'accident' during the hostage handover. You'll die from rogue bandit attack, no one will trace it back to them."

"Emily?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

Kai nodded. "They mentioned 'that young lady.' The timing is in three days, during your escort."

All the pieces fit together.

Steal the moonstones and sell them to Bloodfang Tribe, frame me, and now ensure I never return.

Despair washed over me like icy tide. But strangely, I felt no anger, no fear, only deathly clarity.

I pulled out a small leather scroll from my inner pocket. It was my years of herb notes, where I'd recorded information about Emily's betrayals.

I stuffed the scroll and samples back into the small pouch, handing it to Kai.

"If I die," my voice was so calm it felt foreign, "give this to Damian. Don't give it early. Wait until my death is confirmed."

Kai took the pouch, his expression complex. "You could expose her now..."

"No one would believe it." I cut him off. "Do as I said."

He was silent for a moment, nodded, and disappeared into the shadows.

I sat up, my back screaming with pain, but my hands were steady.

I picked up the salve jar Mother had left, opened it, the rich herbal scent rushing out.

I scooped out most of it, applying it to my own wounds. The rest, jar and all, I tossed into the messy grass pile in the corner.

I stood up, the wounds on my back bringing searing pain with each breath, but right now this pain made me more lucid.

I concentrated my mind, feeling in my blood that innate, faint resonance connecting me to the tribe's sacred stone and fellow tribespeople—that mark of being direct Darkmoon bloodline.

Then, using all the strength and will I had at this moment, facing the tribe's direction, and the deep connection within my bloodline, I said clearly and calmly: "I, Aria, hereby actively sever my bloodline connection with Darkmoon Tribe. I no longer receive its protection, nor bear its bonds."

No earth-shattering sound. But the moment the words fell, I felt something warm inside me, something that had always existed like background noise, abruptly disappear.

As if an invisible umbilical cord was completely severed, a subtle hum originating from the bloodline's foundation fell silent.

What followed was an unprecedented coldness and lightness, as if part of my soul had been hollowed out, yet a thousand-pound burden lifted.

A strange and complete emptiness swallowed me, followed by an almost cruel sense of relief.

Dawn was approaching.

I stood, roughly bandaged my back, and put on the worn leather vest.

The gate's lock was simple—a sharpened beast bone pried it open.

I walked out of the side cave without looking back. Morning mist shrouded the tribe's tents and stone houses, everything hazy and unreal.

I walked toward the meeting point agreed upon with Silverfang Tribe. With each step, my back wounds reminded me of everything I'd just experienced. But my steps didn't falter.

I was no longer Aria of Darkmoon Tribe.

That girl had died at last night's altar.

What now walked toward the enemy camp was another existence.

And in her hands, besides pain and betrayal, she held the seed of flame that could burn down the entire illusion—just waiting for the right moment to ignite everything.