CHAPTER 8 — ARIA: SHADOWS AFTER THE LIGHT
The echoes of the Hall of Oathkeepers still haunted Aria as she returned to her chambers. The flickering torchlight outside her window cast long, trembling shadows across the walls, echoing the unease curling in her chest. Her first public appearance as Luna had ended, but the weight of every gaze, every whisper, every judgment still clung to her like a second skin.
She removed her ceremonial cloak, letting it slide to the floor. The crimson silk pooled around her feet, vibrant and heavy, a reminder of the role she had been forced to claim. She wrapped a plain shawl over her shoulders instead, seeking comfort in simplicity. Comfort was scarce here, in Kael's fortress. Even the air felt sharp, disciplined, cold.
Her mind raced. How had it felt to stand in that hall, thousands of eyes tracking her every movement? And Kael—his eyes had cut through her like a blade, unreadable, unyielding. She couldn't tell if he had been assessing her, warning her, or testing her in ways she didn't yet understand.
The silence of her chambers offered little peace. Every tick of the wall clock reminded her that the Alpha's fortress was always awake. Always observing. Always dangerous.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock.
"Princess… My Lady," the maid whispered, entering with a tray of tea. Her eyes were wary, almost apologetic. "Forgive me, but the Alpha… he requested you remain in your chambers tonight. There is… something outside the walls."
Aria's stomach tightened. "Something?" she asked, forcing calm into her voice. "What do you mean?"
The maid hesitated. "The scouts reported… a presence. Moving along the outer boundary. It was not human. They did not see it clearly, but…" Her voice trailed off. She looked down at the floor. "The Alpha warned us… nothing should be outside alone at night."
Aria's breath hitched. She had expected danger, yes—but the words made it feel immediate. Tangible. She had survived the eyes of the hall, the judgments, the whispers—but she could not hide from this.
"Thank you," she whispered, accepting the tea. The liquid burned warmth down her throat, but it did little to ease the cold tightening in her chest.
She walked to the window and looked out over the fortress grounds. Wolves patrolled silently, their movements fluid and practiced. Guards lingered near the gates, eyes scanning the horizon. And beyond… nothing visible, only shadows stretching across the land like dark fingers.
Her mind wandered to Kael. He had told her once, in the council chamber: "It's not safe. Everything."
She finally understood a fraction of what he meant. The palace itself was a fortress, but the world beyond was alive. Alive with predators. Alive with dangers that moved in silence. And she… she was human. Fragile. Untrained. Exposed.
Her fingers clenched around the edge of the windowsill. She didn't want to admit fear. She didn't want to let it show. But the truth pressed against her ribs, heavy and undeniable.
And yet… a small, stubborn spark flickered inside her.
If this was her cage, she would learn its walls. If the Alpha thought she would crumble, she would prove him wrong. If the creatures outside the walls wanted to strike, she would survive.
A soft noise behind her made her spin. The maid had left, leaving only the tray. The corridor beyond her door was empty. Too empty.
Aria swallowed. The fortress had eyes everywhere, but she had also learned that shadows were not always loyal. She could move unseen if she dared. She could listen. She could learn.
A faint howl carried across the grounds. Not far—close enough to make her pulse jump—but too distant to identify clearly.
That's it, she thought. This is my life now.
A life that demanded courage she wasn't sure she possessed.
And yet, as the moonlight fell across her face, highlighting the sharp angles of her jaw, the quiet storm inside her strengthened.
Tonight had shown her one thing clearly: the world of the Alpha King was unforgiving. But so was she.
She would survive.
She would endure.
And perhaps, one day, she would make the Alpha King see her. Not as a responsibility, not as a tool, not as a Luna only in name—but as a force in her own right.
A shadow moved just beyond the window. Aria froze. A figure lingered at the edge of the wall, watching. Not fully visible, but unmistakably there.
Her pulse thundered. She stepped back into the room.
And somewhere, in the distant howl of the night, the fortress whispered a warning she could not yet understand:
The real test begins after the light.