Frost King's Shadow Bride

Nephele's POV

A year and a half. Eighteen long months, and I still asked myself the same question every morning: Why me?

From my window, I watched young wolves race across frost-covered grounds, their playful freedom a stark reminder of everything I'd lost.

My gaze drifted to the star-shaped birthmark on my right shoulder, once a symbol of pride in our bloodline, now just another cruel joke.

Turning back to my threadbare room—rickety bed, cracked mirror, worn rug—brought back Mother's cutting words after my eighteenth birthday failure. "The Wolfless don't need nice things."

"Nephele," I whispered to my reflection, "the Wolfless wonder."

As the young wolves howled in the distance, my mind slipped back to when I too had expectations, when life had been different...

"Back straight! Chin up! A future Luna must be impeccable!"

When I was ten, I stood in the center of our family's private training room, muscles trembling as I held the proper submission stance before an imaginary Alpha, Mom's stern voice circling me.

"Lower your eyes! More neck! A future Luna must perfect every protocol," she commanded, tapping my shoulder to force the correct angle.

Her disapproving scent made me straighten immediately. "I'm trying, Mom."

Her gaze softened slightly – those rare moments I lived for. "Better. You are my daughter. Always display our dignity."

The pride that bloomed in my chest was worth every aching muscle. I treasured each drop of praise, believing her strictness was love, preparing me for greatness.

"One day," she said, actually smiling, "you'll be a magnificent Luna. Your wolf will be beautiful as mine."

I beamed, certain I was on the right path.

By sixteen, like all young wolves, I dreamed about my future wolf. Silver and graceful like Mom's, maybe?

I'd close my eyes and feel phantom paws hitting forest floors, wind rushing through fur I didn't have yet.

One day during training, I traced the star-shaped birthmark on my shoulder. Suddenly, a scent hit me—crisp apples with frost. I turned to see a silver-haired boy extending an apple toward me.

Before I could reach for it, Mom's fingers clamped around my wrist. "Stay away from him," she snapped, dragging me away.

The training intensified after that. Longer hours, harsher demands. But I never gave up, determined to become her pride.

My eighteenth birthday arrived under a full moon – perfect for a coming-of-age ceremony.

All my age-mates gathered in the sacred stone circle, our families watching eagerly.

The ceremonial elder raised his arms to the moon. "Tonight, under the Moon Goddess as your witness, you shall complete your first full shift and join the true ranks of our kind!"

One by one, my peers took their place in the center of the circle. Each transformation was different – some quick and fluid, others accompanied by growls of pain as bones reorganized and fur erupted through skin.

But all ended the same: where a human had stood, a wolf now appeared, howling triumphantly to the moon.

Parents cheered. Pack members howled in welcome. Each new wolf was embraced into the fold.

Then came my turn.

I walked to the center, moonlight bathing my skin. My heart pounded with anticipation.

I'd prepared for this moment my entire life.

I closed my eyes, searching for that inner spark everyone described – the pull of bones wanting to reshape, the itch of fur waiting to emerge. I reached deep within myself, calling to my wolf.

Nothing happened.

I stood there, still human, still unchanged.

The crowd grew quiet. Whispers began.

I tried again, more desperately this time, calling with all my might to a wolf that wouldn't answer.

"Perhaps..." the elder said awkwardly, "some wolves need more time to awaken."

But the damage was done. The whispers grew louder: "Wolfless."

For a werewolf, no greater insult existed.

I looked to my mother. The faintest warmth in her purple eyes had vanished, leaving only ice.

"Enough," she said, her cold voice cutting through the murmurs. "We're going back."

The journey home passed in profound silence. Once our front door closed with a definitive thud, she turned to me.

"Wolfless," she spat, disgust dripping from every syllable. "My daughter is a Wolfless. I've brought shame upon our bloodline."

Overnight, my status plummeted from "Ophelia's daughter" to "the Wolfless disgrace."

In the dining hall the next day, former friends turned away while a young wolf deliberately knocked my tray to the floor.

"Oops," he smirked. "Hard to notice someone without a wolf scent."

Mom watched silently, and as I left humiliated, she merely remarked: "Get used to it. This is the life of a Wolfless."

That moment crystallized a brutal truth—her training had never been for my benefit, only for her honor.

Now that I was a wolfless, her eyes viewed me as a defective product to be discarded like worthless prey.

My only lifeline was my brother Fidelis, but even he couldn't stay.

The night before leaving to assume his Alpha duties, his warm amber eyes held genuine regret.

"I'll protect you from afar," he promised. "I swear it by the Moon Goddess."

After he left, I truly had no one.

I shook my head, forcing myself back to the present.

More than a year of mockery, isolation, and shame had taught me to live in corners, to walk with my head down.

Wolfless. The word had branded my soul.

In wolf society, those without wolf had no status, no future, no hope.

With a sigh, I dressed for another day of humiliation.

Walking down the main corridor of Northwind Pack's central building, I tried to make myself invisible, but reality had other plans.

"You smell that?" a young wolf sneered as I passed, making sure everyone could hear. "That's the Wolfless. No wonder it reeks in here."

I kept my eyes down, face carefully blank. Showing reaction only encouraged them – a lesson learned through painful experience.

The jeers, the "accidental" shoves, the food trays knocked from my hands – they'd become as routine as breathing.

I hurried toward the library – the only place I found peace among the ancient texts that didn't care whether I had a wolf or not.

In those yellowed pages, I'd stumbled across fragmented records about 'Star-marked bloodlines'—most entries were torn or faded, but they hinted at some ancient, forgotten power. Whenever I read those passages, my birthmark would grow warm, as if responding to something unseen.

Before I reached it, a servant intercepted me. "Luna Ophelia requests your immediate presence in her room."

This was unusual. Unless necessary, Mother avoided being seen with me, lest her reputation suffer by association with the Wolfless.

Anxiety knotted my stomach as I made my way to her chambers.

What new punishment or humiliation awaited?

I pushed open the heavy oak door to find Mom looking strangely excited, her eyes assessing me with unusual interest.

"You look... acceptable," she said, examining me from head to toe. "At least your appearance doesn't reveal your defect."

Since my eighteenth birthday, this was the closest thing to a compliment she'd offered.

"Sovereign Pack's Alpha Magnus has inquired about your situation," she announced, her voice tinged with something I couldn't identify. "He... has expressed interest in making you his Luna."

I stood frozen, unable to process her words.

Could this possibly be the beginning of a new life? Could I become a respected Luna instead of the mocked Wolfless?