Her Second Moon

When I woke, I was alone in the cot near the ward’s side screen.

Everyone moved around me. No one noticed I’d stirred.

The ancient projector played last night’s celestial event.

A meteor shower—rare. A blessing from the stars.

I missed it. Again.

Some wishes were never meant to be mine.

Footsteps. Then a voice, rough but laced with hope.

“You’re awake. Selena stabilized. It’s because of you.”

I nodded. “Good.”

He blinked, then flinched. I must’ve looked like a ghost.

“You shouldn’t have pushed yourself,” he muttered. “And I... I was cruel. You didn’t deserve that.”

“It’s okay,” I said softly.

Because it was.

Because it no longer mattered.

He hesitated. “You once said you wanted to see the Southern Peaks. The moon-glass lakes. I... I booked the flights. After you recover, we can—”

I shook my head.

“You don’t have to, Killian. This wasn’t about making anything right. I owed you this.”

He didn’t understand.

How could he?

He turned to pour water, his hand trembling.

The old scar—silver-burned—flared pale against his skin.

“Do you regret saving me?” I asked.

He didn’t turn.

“No. Even if it had been someone else, I’d do it again.”

“Even when you were already wounded… if a packmate lay dying before you, you’d still save them the same way you saved me. Wouldn’t you?”

He stiffened.

“Yes.”

That was who he was.

Always had been.

Not because I was his mate.

Not because I was chosen above all others.

Even when his own body was torn, when blood soaked his fur and skin—

he would still throw himself into danger for a dying packmate, the same way he had for me.

For his pack. For our kind. For anyone who called to him.

I was never the exception.

And that truth bit deeper than any silver blade.

My heart ached. Swelled. Cracked open.

“You’ve always been good, Killian. I... I held on too tightly. For too long.”

Tears slid quietly down my face.

“You must’ve hated that.”

He turned, startled. “Clara...”

A knock.

“Alpha Thorne?” A healer. “Selena is conscious.”

His entire body jolted.

His eyes lit up—brighter than I’d seen in years.

“I need to see her.”

He turned to go. I called gently.

“Killian.”

He paused.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “For everything. And... goodbye.”

His brow furrowed.

“Don’t talk like that. I’ll be back. I have something to tell you.”

Then he was gone.

I stood.

Unwrapped the bandages from my wrists.

My wolf, already frayed, whispered her last breath inside me.

The bond’s light was fading.

Eight minutes left.

That was all the Moon had granted me.

I walked barefoot into the morning light.

Each step slower, heavier.

Each breath a farewell.

I will never return to his world again.

Goodbye, my once-beloved mate.

By the time Killian returned—with herbal broth in one hand and something unreadable in his eyes—

The infirmary bed was empty.

“Clara?”

Silence.

A heartbeat later, a healer burst in, pale and frantic.

“Alpha! Come quickly. It’s Clara. She collapsed near the western gate.”

“Her wolf… her spirit… it had already begun to sever. We tried to anchor her.”

“But she chose it. She let go.”

“She’s gone.”