Rejected By The Alpha, Desired By The King

KAEL – POV

Ayla vanished beneath the surface of the bloodwell.

Not drowned. Not broken.

But consumed.

And in her place rose memory-wolves—dozens of them, silver and black, flickering with runes etched in forgotten tongues.

They circled us.

They didn't growl.

They remembered.

I felt it—waves of old grief, triumph, failure. The rise of the First Luna. The madness of the Moonsplit war. And at the center of it all, Neris.

Breathing. Solid. Watching.

"Your Luna walks the bloodline now," she said. "And if she doesn't come back... she stays there. Forever."

Rylan lit his staff.

Daya drew steel.

But I stepped forward.

"You weren't supposed to be born."

Neris smiled. "Neither was she."

Inside the bloodwell, Ayla stood on a sea of memory.

She wasn't alone.

The First Luna's image flickered beside her—young, tall, crowned in bone.

"You've crossed the threshold," she said. "This isn't a vision. This is inheritance."

Ayla looked down.

The wolves circling her weren't ghosts.

They were warnings.

Each one showed her a version of herself she'd never lived—mated too early, broken by fear, lost to the bond.

She reached toward one. It growled.

The First Luna's voice echoed:

"Choose none of them. Or lose all of you."

Back in the chamber, the Echo flinched.

"She's going too deep," she muttered. "The bond threads are coiling tighter. If she reaches the core…"

"What happens?" I growled.

"She forgets she ever lived outside it."

I moved toward the pool.

But Neris blocked me.

"She must face the weight alone. She must be worthy."

"Worthy of what?"

"Of wearing all of you."

She nodded to my chest.

To my bond mark.

"To carry a King's crest and not be undone."

Inside the bloodwell, Ayla saw Kael. Not as he was. But as he might have been—cold, unbonded, crowned in iron.

A tyrant.

She reached for his hand.

It vanished.

Another Kael appeared—dead at her feet, sacrificed for power.

Then another—marked by a different Luna.

Every version of him her heart had feared.

And at the center of them all...Her echo.

Smiling.

"You don't want to lead," the Echo said. "You want to be spared."

"I want to survive."

"Then wake up. And stop pretending you're not made to rule."

In the chamber, the bloodwell trembled.

Ayla's hand broke the surface.

Then her face.

But not her voice.

The Echo's voice spoke through her lips:

"She chose."

Daya stepped forward. "Is it her?"

"She chose," the Echo repeated. "And you'll see what that means... soon."

Then she collapsed and I caught her.

And I prayed. Because the eyes that opened next...Weren't silver.

They were burning red.

Her eyes were red. Not blood-red. Bond-red.

A color I had only seen once—when my grandfather crossed into the spirit realm and came back marked by the gods of the old path.

But this was no blessing.

This was a rebirth.

Ayla didn't speak at first.

She stood, bare feet on the stone floor of the vault, runes blazing along her arms and spine. Her breath came fast but even, her mouth slightly parted.

The Echo stepped forward.

"Well?"

Ayla's gaze swept the room.

Paused on me.

"Kael."

My name came slow, uncertain, like she was trying it out.

"I'm here," I said.

She blinked.

"I remember..." Her hand trembled. "I remember everything."

Rylan lit his staff. "Everything from the well?"

Ayla nodded. "From all versions. All possibilities. Every Ayla I could've been... and the one I chose."

"What did you choose?" Daya asked.

Ayla looked down at her palms. And then back up at us.

"I chose the thread that wasn't written yet."

The memory-wolves that circled us began to fade, their forms unraveling into light. But one remained—a massive silver one with a scar over its eye.

It stepped forward.

And bowed.

Ayla approached it slowly.

Placed her hand on its muzzle.

"This one isn't from my past," she said. "It's from the bond's future."

The wolf howled and vanished into her chest. A shudder ran through her body.

Then silence.

Neris stepped into the ring.

She studied Ayla with something approaching caution.

"You didn't just survive the well," she said. "You rewrote it."

Ayla didn't blink. "No more echoes. No more shadows. I am the original."

Neris smiled faintly. "Then come. Prove it."

She turned and vanished through the wall of bondlight behind her.

The final trial had begun.

Back in the grove, the sky split open.

Storm clouds rolled across the realm.

The ash tree bent without wind. And every wolf felt it. The bond had re-rooted, but not equally.

Wolves began falling unconscious.

Some weeping.

Others are screaming. Because the bond had been chosen again and it wasn't done shaping them.

Ayla turned to me.

"If I don't come back..."

"You will," I said.

"But if I don't—don't avenge me."

She reached up.

Touched my chest.

"Continue me."

Then she vanished into the storm.

We emerged from the tomb into a stormlight.

Not rain. Not thunder.

But bondlight—blazing cracks through the sky, like a thousand blood threads had caught fire and were screaming across the clouds.

All the wolves in the Realm could feel it.

The bond was reweaving itself—ripping through loyalty and memory, forcing every pack to confront what they were tethered to, and what they were not.

And at the center of it all—Ayla.

No longer just our Luna.

Something else now.

The bond didn't follow her. It bent.

***

We rode hard. Back toward the Grove. Back toward the Court.

Toward the Bone banners, the fallen council, the fractured packs.

Toward the place where Ayla would either prove the bond's rebirth—or its end.

Neris was waiting.

Not in a war stance.

In court robes.

Flanked by the Bone Wolves, their crescent marks glowing bright as flame.

Cassia stood at her side. She didn't look lost anymore. She looked crowned.

Ayla dismounted.

No armor.

No blade.

Only runes across her throat, her palms, her back.

Marks of the Rewritten Bond.

She stepped onto the stone dais.

Neris raised her chin.

"Come to surrender?"

Ayla shook her head.

"I came to end the illusion that there were ever two of us."

The Seers arrived in silence, just ancient eyes bearing witness. The ritual circle was drawn.

Two Lunas. One bond. But no crown.

Because this wasn't about ruling. It was about redefining.

Neris struck first. Not with claws, with confession.

"I was made from Kael's line and the First King's ritual. Not from prophecy. From precision."

Ayla nodded.

"I know. And I forgive you."

The wolves gasped.

Neris flinched.

"Forgive?" she spat. "I don't want your mercy."

"No," Ayla said. "But your wolves do."

And she turned—Opened her arms.

"Come home," she whispered.

And to our horror—they did. The Bone Wolves began to cross the circle.

One by one.

Their bonds flaring.

Breaking.

Returning.

Neris screamed. Power surged. The ground cracked.

But Ayla didn't move.

She only whispered:

"The bond doesn't obey domination. It obeys choice."

And at that moment, Neris crumpled. Not dead. Unbound. And in the silence that followed, Ayla turned—And fell.

The light went from her runes. Her body is still and Kael...

I ran to her—

Caught her—

Felt nothing. No thread. No bond.

And from the Seers' corner, a single voice whispered. "She rewove it... but she paid the toll."

Ayla lay cold in my arms.

No blood. No wound. No bond.

Only stillness.

The runes across her skin had gone dim. Not erased. Just... faded.

Like someone had paused the moonlight in her veins.

Daya knelt beside us.

"She's breathing."

Rylan crouched on her other side. "Barely. And the bond is silent."

"But not gone?" I asked.

He looked at me.

And for the first time since I'd known him—

Rylan looked afraid.

"I don't know what we're bonded to anymore."

The Seers declared her victory.

Neris lay unconscious, stripped of her followers, her bone crown shattered. But she was alive.

Because Ayla had made it so.

No one cheered.

No one howled.

The Grove was too quiet for that.

Because we had watched a Luna win a war—And lost herself.

We carried her to the sacred altar. Wrapped her in the crest-stitched cloak of her court.

And waited.

One night. Two. Three.

Wolves came to pay respects.

Even former Bone loyalists.

Even Cassia.

"She could have erased me," she whispered. "And she didn't."

"You followed the wrong bond," I said.

Cassia shook her head. "I followed a broken part of myself. She helped me see it."

Then she laid her own crescent mark beside Ayla's hands.

And left.

***

On the seventh night, the ash tree bloomed black.

Its blossoms fell like snow.

The Seers called it "the grieving."

I called it a sign.

And on the ninth night—Her hand moved. Just once. Her eyes opened. Not silver. Not red. Just... human. Soft brown and confused.

"Ayla?" I whispered.

She looked at me.

Smiled faintly.

"Kael."

Then her smile faded.

"I can't feel you."

My chest twisted.

"I'm here. I'm right here."

"I know," she said. "But the bond..."

She looked down.

Her rune was gone.

"I gave it back to them," she said. "All of it."

Rylan stepped forward. "You unbound yourself."

She nodded.

"To end the war, I had to rewrite the bond as theirs. Not mine. Not yours. Not anyone's."

Daya's voice broke. "Then what are you now?"

Ayla looked at her hands.

"Just Ayla."

Then she looked at me.

"Do you still want me?"

I didn't answer.

I pulled her into my arms.

And whispered:

"Even without the bond—you've always been mine."

The Seers recorded the moment.

Marked it as the end of the Bondshatter Era.

The time when wolves no longer bowed to a chosen.

But chose to stand.

With her.

Without threads.

Without fate.

Just Ayla.

And for the first time in history—a Luna ruled with no bond at all.