The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 40

**Midnight Letters by Daniel Crowe**
**Chapter 40**

The mountains loomed in the distance, cloaked in a thick veil of rain that descended like a sorrowful shroud, mourning the secrets buried within their depths.

“Do you think,” Celestine’s voice floated through the downpour, a gentle murmur that barely broke the sound of the rain, “that I have taken your home from you?” There was a playful curve to her lips, yet her words were laced with an unsettling sharpness. “But it was always mine. I merely reclaimed what is rightfully mine by birthright.”

Aysel felt a stirring deep within her, the wolf that resided beneath her skin awakening, its silver eyes flickering with an intensity that mirrored the storm around them. “What do you mean by that?” she asked, her tone quiet but the growl simmering beneath betrayed the turmoil within her.

Celestine, however, chose to delay her response, her gaze drifting toward the road where the Moonvale brothers, Fenrir and Lykos, were ascending the slope to join them. Rain cascaded from their shoulders like molten steel, glistening in the dim light.

“Same blood,” Celestine resumed, her voice softening yet carrying an edge of malice. “But our mothers’ destinies were starkly different. And with time, that chasm will only widen.” A cruel smile graced her lips, serene yet chilling. “You are fortunate, Aysel. Even at the end, Grandmother still held a preference for you.”

Her eyes sharpened, and her voice dropped to a venomous whisper. “Do you know what her final words were before she departed this world?”

Aysel’s heart pounded, a heavy thud echoing in her chest. The air around her thickened, charged with tension.

Celestine’s smile widened, her teeth glinting like daggers through the rain. “She said—’Save me.'”

The impact of those words was like a physical blow. Aysel’s vision ignited in a blaze of red. The relentless roar of the downpour drowned out her reason, and in a moment of primal fury, she lunged forward, her claws gleaming pale against the darkened backdrop, fingers wrapping tightly around Celestine’s throat.

“You killed her,” she hissed, each word dripping with accusation.

Celestine gasped for breath, yet a laugh escaped her lips, bubbling up between her desperate inhalations. “Killed her? No, Aysel. I merely chose not to save her. Why should I have? She protected you, not me. Always you.” Her lips twisted into a snarl, rage mingling with disdain. “It’s your fault she perished. If you hadn’t clung to her like a lifeline, depended on her, she wouldn’t have sacrificed herself for you!”

Aysel felt the fire of her lineage ignite within her, her eyes blazing silver, the mark of her bloodline flaring to life along her wrists. “She loved you too, Celestine. When our parents returned to Moonvale, it was Grandmother who stood between us and that monster, Carden Voss. You were never the unloved one—”

Celestine interrupted with a bitter laugh, a sound filled with venom. “That’s your fantasy. From the moment I adopted my new name, I vowed that the world would never see you and me as equals again.”

Breathless, Aysel’s grip remained firm, the rain mingling with their tears, a tumultuous mix of grief and rage staining their faces.

Then, a voice pierced through the chaos—”Aysel!”

Lykos’s shout cut through the storm like a lightning bolt. In a swift motion, he pushed his sister away from the fray. Aysel’s body collided with the marble edge of Yuna Ward’s grave, pain shooting through her spine, yet she remained silent, refusing to give in to the agony.

Fenrir moved quickly, catching Celestine as she sagged, cradling her limp form against him. Without a glance in Aysel’s direction, he turned and began to descend the slope toward the waiting cars, his demeanor unyielding.

Lykos lingered at the ridge, caught in a tumult of loyalty and bloodlines. The rain lashed against his face, stinging his eyes, forcing him to blink away the uncertainty. After a moment of hesitation, he turned, shielding Fenrir and Celestine with his umbrella as they vanished into the curtain of rain, his own clothes quickly drenched.

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