Chapter Five
1040 Words
The pack mourned under a sky stripped of stars. Gray clouds hung low and heavy, as if even the heavens bowed beneath the weight of loss. The funeral pyres were arranged at the sacred clearing, ringed by ancient stones worn smooth by generations of grief and remembrance. Moonflowers burned softly at their base, releasing a pale, sorrowful glow that barely cut through the darkness.
Diana stood motionless at the front.
She had not slept.
She had not eaten.
Blood had been scrubbed from her armor, but it felt pointless, like washing away the last traces of something that still lived inside her chest. Her hands were clenched so tightly at her sides that her nails bit into her palms, grounding her in pain because numbness was far worse.
Two bodies lay before her.
Her mother.
Her father.
Wrapped in ceremonial cloth, adorned with the sigils of the pack they had served their entire lives.
They had not been high ranked. They had not been powerful. They had been kind. Steady. Loyal.
They had believed the bunker would keep them safe.
Diana swallowed hard.
She had stood at the front lines.
She had held the line.
She had protected everyone else.
And it hadn’t mattered.
The Alpha stepped forward and spoke words of honor, of sacrifice, of lives well-lived. The Luna followed, voice trembling as she spoke of community, of shared grief, of the Moon Goddess welcoming them home.
Diana heard none of it. Her world had narrowed to the space between those two pyres.
Artemis was silent.
Not asleep.
Not withdrawn.
Grieving.
When it was Diana’s turn to speak, the clearing held its breath.
She stepped forward slowly, every movement deliberate. The pack watched her with reverence, with sorrow, with fear, because grief this deep was dangerous in a wolf like her.
“My parents were not rank warriors,” Diana said quietly. Her voice carried anyway. “They never asked for recognition. Never asked for protection. They believed in this pack with their whole hearts.” Her throat tightened. “They believed that doing the right thing was enough.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
“They taught me that strength isn’t about rank,” she continued. “It’s about standing up when others can’t. About protecting what matters—even when it costs you everything.” Her gaze dropped to the pyres. “I failed them.”
The words fell like a blade.
“No,” someone whispered.
“That’s not true,” another said.
Diana didn’t react.
“I stood at the front,” she said, voice breaking for the first time. “I fought. I led. I protected. And while I did… someone slipped through.” Her hands shook now. “Someone knew where to go.”
That caught attention.
The Alpha stiffened slightly.
“I tracked the rogue who killed them,” Diana said softly. “Not far. Just enough to know this wasn’t desperation.” She lifted her head. “It was precise.”
A ripple of unease passed through the pack.
“Rogues don’t move like that,” she went on. “They don’t bypass defenses without triggering alarms. They don’t ignore easier prey to target two unguarded wolves in a secured bunker.”
Silence stretched.
“I don’t know who sent him,” Diana finished. “But someone did.”
The pyres were lit. Flames rose, devouring cloth and flesh alike, crackling softly as smoke curled toward the sky. Diana watched without blinking as the fire took everything she loved, turning it into ash and memory.
When it was over, the pack slowly dispersed.
Diana didn’t move. She stayed until the last ember dimmed, until the clearing was empty and cold.
Only then did she turn away.
Three days passed.
Diana didn’t train.
Didn’t patrol.
Didn’t speak.
She sat in her parents’ empty home, surrounded by ghosts. Every corner whispered their presence—the worn chair by the hearth, the chipped mug her father refused to replace, the blanket her mother always folded too neatly.
Artemis finally broke the silence.
'You are breaking,' she said gently.
'I know,' Diana replied aloud.
'You don’t have to do this alone.'
'I already am.'
On the fourth day, Diana walked into the training grounds. Warriors stopped mid-motion when they saw her.
Hope flared briefly.
She ignored it.
Alpha Asher was there, speaking with the Beta and Gamma. They turned as one when she approached.
“I’m resigning,” Diana said calmly.
The words hit harder than any roar.
“What?” Asher demanded. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
“You’re the backbone of this pack,” the Beta said urgently. “The warriors—”
“—will survive,” Diana cut in. “They always do.”
Asher stepped closer. “This isn’t what your parents would want.”
That did it. Diana’s eyes flashed silver.
“Don’t,” she warned quietly. “You don’t get to speak for them.”
Silence fell.
“I gave everything to this pack,” Diana continued. “My strength. My loyalty. My soul. And still, someone used our defenses against us.” She met Asher’s gaze without flinching. “I won’t bleed for leaders who can’t see the cracks beneath their own feet. I won’t fight for a pack who betrays me. Tell me, Alpha, how is it possible that the only members who are not in the bunker were my parents?”
Asher opened his mouth—then closed it.
“I’m done being a warrior,” Diana said. “Effective immediately.”
She unclasped the insignia from her armor and placed it on the ground between them.
No rank.
No weapon.
No shield.
Just loss.
As she turned away, Artemis stirred restlessly.
'This isn’t the end,' Artemis said.
'No,' Diana replied softly. 'It’s a beginning.'
Somewhere beyond the pack lands, a lone figure knelt before another, coins glinting in the firelight—payment already delivered.
“The job’s done,” the rogue rasped.
A shadowed voice answered calmly. “Good.”
And far away, Diana walked into the unknown, unaware that her grief had just placed her directly in the path of something far darker than a rogue attack.
- Writer
