A Warrior Luna's Awakening (Freya and Caelum) novel Chapter 97

Chapter 97

Freya’s POV

སཾཏྲཱི75%

Finished

The Stormveil Pack never forgot my parents. That’s why they negotiated tirelessly with the Bloodmoon Pack and beyond, pulling every string to bring my parents‘ ashes back to Ashbourne.

And today… they could finally rest in the soil of the land they died to protect.

“We’ll take your parents to the Ashbourne Legion’s Hall of Martyrs,” one of the officials said, his tone steady with solemn respect.

I gave a small nod.

My hands tightened around the urns.

务

When I climbed into the armored car, my parents‘ old comrades from the Iron Fang Recon Unit joined me. They had traveled across the country just to stand guard one last time. Kade was there, Lana too.

And then–through the tinted glass, my gaze caught him.

Alpha Silas.

The Alpha of the Ironclad Coalition stood among the crowd, his frame wrapped in a black suit, his expression carved in somber stone. Our eyes locked across the distance, through the window, through the noise, until it felt as though no one else existed.

He had kept his word. He came to see my parents off.

A storm churned in my chest.

When I first met Silas, I thought of him as an enigma carved from shadows–an Alpha whose mood was as mercurial as the moon, whose aura reeked of blood and death. But around my parents, he had shown nothing but reverence.

It was that reverence that cracked something open inside me, revealing a man who wasn’t all steel and silence.

The engine rumbled. The vehicle rolled away from the Stormveil Primal Hall.

Through the window, I saw villagers stop in their tracks, heads bowed, hands pressed to hearts. They knew what this procession meant. They knew who my parents were.

Tears blurred my vision, hot and merciless. These people… they were sending my parents home. With respect. With honor.

By the time we reached the Hall of Martyrs, the ceremonial guards were already waiting. The burial rite unfolded with a reverence that clawed at my chest. Four soldiers bore the urns, lowering them with ritual precision into the cold earth.

I clutched my parents‘ portraits and followed, my legs moving as though bound by grief.

Behind me, my kin of the Thorne line and Stormveil’s officials trailed in silence. Lana, Kade, and Silas

The ceremony pressed on. A crimson flag was draped across the urns, gleaming with the sigil of our Legion. Beside them, I placed a silver bullet charm–a relic my father never parted with.

That bullet had nearly claimed his life once. He survived only because my mother refused to let him go, cutting it from his body with her own hands under battlefield fire. From that day forward, he swore that his life belonged not only to the Pack and the nation, but to her.

And when they fell together–when the cannons rained down and my father wrapped himself around my mother, refusing to let go–it was a vow fulfilled. His life was hers. And theirs belonged to the cause.

The rifles of the honor guard lifted.

Seven shots split the sky.

Each one a wolf’s howl of farewell.

Each one a call: “Heroes, return to the Pack.”

My tears spilled freely then.

Mother. Father. You can finally rest.

When it was over, I forced myself to stand tall. To breathe. To speak with the Ashbourne officials, to thank my parents‘ brothers–in–arms, to wear dignity even while my heart bled. Because that’s what being a Thorne

meant.

Even if my wolf wanted to collapse and howl to the moon.