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    Ashmoor Academy.


    The name alone was sacred. It was the pinnacle of academic achievement across all werewolf territories–an institution countless students across the four quadrants of the realm would die to enter. Tens of thousands tried each year, and most failed, leaving behind only broken dreams and bitter regrets.


    And Riley–the sister Kael Vale had misunderstood, condemned, and cast aside–had been epted.


    His hand trembled as it reached out for the letter, as though it were something divine and fragile all at once. The moment his fingers brushed the thick parchment, his entire body shuddered. It felt like electricity surged through him, leaving behind a trail of frozen disbelief and rising panic.


    Memories assaulted him in waves.


    He remembered the way he hadn’t believed her–how easily he’d let her be painted as the viin. How he stood silent as their parents misjudged her again and again. And worst of all, how he had stared into her eyes in court and pointed at her, calling her the culprit, sentencing her with words sharper than any de.


    Her expression then–devastated, disbelieving–burned itself into his mind now like a cursed brand.


    His body began to tremble uncontrobly. His breaths came short and fast, like someone drowning in guilt and trying desperately to find air. The spinning sensation in his head worsened until his knees gave out, and he copsed onto the desk chair, as if the truth itself had crushed him.


    “I destroyed her…” he choked out, the words barely a whisper. “I destroyed her life with my own hands…”


    Tears came suddenly and without restraint. Hot streams slid down his cheeks and sshed onto the letter, blurring the golden Ashmoor crest. He made no effort to stop them. His entire being felt hollow, a shell filled with shame and self–loathing.


    Slumped in the chair, Kael stared ahead with empty eyes, his soul cracking beneath the weight of his guilt. The letter in his hands wasn’t just a symbol of what Riley could have been–it was a testament to everything he had stolen from her.


    The damage he had done was far deeper than he had ever imagined.


    His vision dimmed, and for a terrifying moment, he nearly lost consciousness. The ck edges of exhaustion crept in, but he fought against it, breathing heavily, grounding himself in the pain he deserved.


    Only when the dizziness finally receded did he raise a shaking hand to wipe at his face, roughly smearing away the tears. He exhaled, preparing to return the letter to its drawer–only to pause when something caught his eye.


    There, buried in the corner, was a worn, faded leather–bound notebook.


    A journal.


    Kael froze.


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    His rational mind told him to stop–to leave it alone. That nothing good coulde from reading her innermost thoughts. That if the letter had shattered him, the journal might annihte what remained.


    But his heart, heavy and desperate, reached for the book anyway.


    As he opened the first page, a photograph slipped out.


    A family portrait.


    His breath hitched.


    In the photo, Alpha ric and Luna Zara sat proudly in the center. Scarlett nestled beside Zara, smiling with that sweet perfection she always wore. Kael himself stood next to his father, hands in pockets, eyes aloof.


    And off to the side–awkwardly distant–stood Riley.


    The arrangement was no ident.


    The moment he saw it, memories came rushing back like floodwaters breaching a dam.


    It had been taken on a spring holiday. The skies were clear, the flowers in the garden had just bloomed, and Scarlett had suggested they take a family portrait among the blossoms. Everyone had gotten ready. Then someone remembered that Lucky–their beloved golden–furred wolfhound–was missing.


    Riley had gone to retrieve him.


    She had carried the old hound in her arms, her eyes bright and hopeful as she asked Kael, “Big Brother, what are you doing?”


    He had barely looked at her. “Just taking a family photo.”


    She had smiled. So hopeful. So eager.


    During the photo, she had tried to stand beside him–thinking, foolishly, that she belonged. He remembered the way his skin had crawled with difort. He hadn’t allowed any girl other than Scarlett to stand near him back then.


    Without a thought, he had pushed Riley away.


    He didn’t even notice the flicker of hurt in her eyes.


    Afterward, Scarlett suggested a short vacation. A celebration for the family. Their parents agreed instantly. They packed their bags, and with Scarlett, Kael, ric, Zara–and Lucky–they left for the Northern Isles.


    They stayed away until thest day of the holiday.


    When they returned, Riley confronted them.


    “Why didn’t you take me?” she had asked, voice trembling with confusion and heartbreak.


    Kael, exhausted from the trip, had snapped. “You’re not one of us. Why would we bring you?”


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    And that was it. The first true fracture.


    He remembered how angry she had looked.


    How sad.


    Finished


    In that same household, their pet hound had its own private room, maintained even after Lucky passed away. The room was still cleaned regrly, its toys untouched, preserved like a shrine.


    But Riley–their own blood–had no ce.


    She wasn’t treated like a sister. Not even like a servant.


    She was just a mistake that everyone wanted to forget.


    Kael stared at the photo in his hands. They had all stood there smiling, with the perfect illusion of family. Even the hound had been in the center.


    And Riley? She had been pushed aside like she didn’t belong.


    And the cruelest part?


    She had still smiled for the camera.