The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 36

**Midnight Letters by Daniel Crowe**
**Chapter 36**

**Aysel’s POV**

Each year, the anniversary of Aunt Yuna Ward’s passing casts a heavy pall over Moonvale, wrapping the town in an almost tangible gloom. It’s as if the very atmosphere thickens, weighed down by memories and lingering spirits. Even the wind that rustles through the trees surrounding our pack’s estate seems to move with a deliberate slowness, as if it fears disturbing the echoes of those who once walked among us.

As I stirred from sleep, a dull ache simmered beneath my ribs, a restless reminder of my wolf’s presence, while my pulse felt sluggish, as if it too was caught in the web of sorrow that enveloped me. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror—draped in a somber black dress, my skin pale against the fabric. The faint glimmer of gold in my irises hinted at my lineage, a stark contrast to the emptiness I felt inside. I appeared every bit the Alpha’s daughter, yet inside, I felt like a mere specter, a shadow donning the skin of someone who once thrived.

To escape the weight of my own reflection, I raised a trembling hand and shielded the mirror, blocking out the image that seemed to mock my turmoil.

Upon my arrival at the Moonvale manor, the familiar aroma of roasted grain and herbal tea wafted through the air, a stark reminder of the mundane life that continued around me. The family had gathered around the long dining table, five figures—Alpha Remus, Luna Evelyn, Fenrir, Lykos, and Celestine Ward—engaged in what appeared to be an ordinary breakfast, laughter and conversation flowing as if the day held no significance.

As I stepped into the room, the clinking of forks paused for a heartbeat, a momentary silence hanging in the air. Then, Celestine’s smile broke through, sweet and practiced, the kind that felt rehearsed. “Luna Evelyn,” she chimed softly, “perhaps we should pull out another chair for Aysel?”

Her voice dripped with sweetness, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief that I couldn’t ignore.

I glanced at the five matching oak chairs—five, not six—and shook my head firmly. “No need. I’ve already eaten.”

No one pressed the matter further. The atmosphere thickened with unspoken thoughts, the kind that lingered like a heavy fog. Even Lykos, usually the most boisterous of my brothers, refrained from making a quip. Grief had a peculiar way of silencing even the most spirited wolves.

Luna Evelyn’s gaze flickered toward me, her expression a mix of longing and restraint, a silent plea for connection. My father remained silent, focused on his plate, cutting into his food as if it were the only thing that could anchor him in that moment. The silence stretched, taut and uncomfortable, until Celestine sighed softly, a sound laced with the weight of sympathy for the tension that filled the room.

When breakfast concluded and the preparations for the ceremony began, Celestine suddenly gasped, her hand flying to her forehead in a theatrical display. “Oh! I forgot—Mother’s gift! I left it upstairs!” Her eyes widened innocently as she turned to me. “Aysel, will you come with me? It’s a bit heavy, and I could really use your help.”

Her tone sparkled with brightness, but beneath it lay a subtle undercurrent of dominance, a hint of coercion that didn’t escape my notice.

Before I could respond, Lykos piped up, “I’ll go.”

Celestine’s smile remained unwavering, her eyes glinting with a calculated charm. “No need. You’re a boy, and boys have rough hands. The ribbons will crease.”

Her father chuckled softly, misinterpreting her words as mere kindness. “That’s thoughtful, Celestine. Go on, Aysel. Help your sister.”

I didn’t protest. Not today.

Celestine’s eyes sparkled as we ascended the grand staircase, the sound of our footsteps echoing in the silence. Behind us, Luna Evelyn watched with a quiet hope, as if she believed that this simple trip upstairs could somehow mend the years of buried resentment and venom that had poisoned our family ties.

Instead of leading me to her own room, Celestine paused before the door that had once been mine. The scent hit me before she even touched the handle—stale air, dust, and the weight of forgotten memories.

“This one’s yours, isn’t it?” she asked lightly, her tone casual. “Father said I could stay here for a while. My wardrobe’s being expanded—can’t have the future Luna living out of boxes.”

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