Third Person POV


    Moonstone mourned for three days.


    Not because tradition demanded it-though it did-but because no one could bear to stop.


    The first day was silence. Bells tolled at dawn and dusk, their low, resonant notes carrying through the mountains and into the valleys beyond.


    The packhouse doors were thrown open, ck banners draped from ancient stone. Wolves and humans alike moved through the halls with bowed heads and muted voices, as if speaking too loudly might fracture something still painfully fragile.


    The second day was remembrance. Stories were told in small clusters and long vigils, spoken softly over shared meals and burning candles.


    Warriors spoke of ric''s tactical brilliance, of battles won because he had seen what others could not. Elders spoke of a young alpha who had rebuilt Moonstone after disaster, who had turned grief into structure and chaos into order.


    Mothers spoke of a man who had ensured their children slept safely at night. And all of them-every single one-spoke of his devotion to his family.


    By the third day, the entire kingdom hade.


    Every pack sent representatives. Some sent alphas. Some sent entire delegations dressed in mourning colors and carrying their banners furled in respect. Even packs that had once stood opposed to Moonstone arrived quietly,ying offerings at the foot of the pyre without fanfare or expectation of forgiveness.


    This was not a political funeral.


    This was the honoring of a man who had held the line when others could not.


    Cassian stood at the center of it all and felt like he was drowning.


    He wore the ceremonial ck of Moonstone''s alpha line, the silver thread at his cor catching the light no matter how he tried to avoid it. Every eye followed him when he moved. Every bow, every lowered gaze felt like another weight added to his shoulders.


    He had always known this day woulde.


    He just hadn''t imagined it would arrive carved out of blood and loss.


    He stood beside Ellie as ric''s body was borne into the courtyard, wrapped once more in white linen etched with runes that glowed faintly under the open sky. The pyre had been built from ancient Moonstone oak, each logid by hand, each symbol carved by wolves who had served under him.


    The air was thick with the scent of smoke and mountain pine.


    Cassian''s hands clenched at his sides as the final rites were spoken.


    He didn''t hear most of the words.


    He was too busy remembering the sound of his father''s voice. The way ric had corrected his stance during training, patient but relentless. The rare, crooked smile when Cassian had done something right without being told. The weight of his hand on Cassian''s shoulder-steady, grounding, infuriatingly reassuring.


    The fire was lit.


    mes climbed slowly at first, respectful, almost hesitant. Then they surged upward, bright and fierce, consuming cloth and wood alike as smoke rose toward the gray sky.


    Ellie stood perfectly still beside him, her face pale andposed in a way that frightened him more than tears would have. Nn stood just behind her, one hand resting lightly at her back, offering support without intrusion.


    Cassian didn''t cry.


    Not then.


    He simply watched as the mes took thest physical piece of the man who had shaped his entire life.


    When it was over, no one moved for a long time.


    Eventually, people began to drift away in quiet clusters, leaving offerings, touching the stone edge of the pyre, murmuring prayers to the goddess. The courtyard slowly emptied, the weight of collective grief lingering like fog long after the bodies were gone.


    That was when the next burden fell.


    The formal induction was unavoidable.


    Cassian had wanted desperately to dy it, but on the advice of Moonstone''s elders and priestesses, he had agreed to move forward swiftly. The people needed to know that their pack was taken care of.


    They needed Cassian.


    Moonstone''sws were clear. With ric gone, the mantle passed immediately-but ceremony mattered. Words mattered. The goddess had to be acknowledged, the kingdom reassured.


    Cassian stood before the gathered alphaster that evening, every instinct in him screaming that this was wrong. That it was too soon. That he wasn''t ready.


    But readiness had never been the measure.


    He knelt on cold stone as the ancient oath was spoken. He pressed his palm to the altar where Moonstone blood had been spilled for generations, just as his father''s blood had been spilled only days ago.


    When he rose, the weight of the alpha bond settled over him fully.


    213


    Cede is a passionate storyteller known for her bold romantic and spicy novels that keep readers hooked from the very first chapter. With a ir for crafting emotionally intense plots and unforgettable characters, she blends love, desire, and drama into every story she writes. Cede''s storytelling style is immersive and addictive—perfect for fans of heated romances and heart-pounding twists.