The Rejected Mate (Elaine and Michael) novel Chapter 135

The sun had sunk low, casting a golden-rose hue across the Silverblade courtyard as the entire pack gathered for the long-awaited Alpha and Luna Ceremony. Evening settled like a velvet cloak, draping the mountains and towering trees around the pack house in warm, fading light. Lanterns were being lit one by one, a soft dance of amber glow swaying with the whispering breeze. Their flames shimmered like captured stars, illuminating faces filled with pride, hope, and the unspoken weight of change.

The ceremonial stage stood at the courtyard’s center, adorned in forest greenery, white blossoms, and silver ribbons—the traditional colors of leadership and renewal. Fresh pine mingled with the faint sweetness of the flowers, and the air vibrated with pack unity. Beneath the surface, a current of anticipation thrummed, a collective heartbeat shared by the hundreds of wolves present.

Calvin positioned himself at the foot of the ceremonial platform, his shoulders squared and his head bowed in reverence. The elders approached, their hands deftly painting sacred markings on his palms—charcoal-black sigils that spoke of protection, sacrifice, and judgment. Beside him stood Roselyn, her beauty radiant as ever, yet tonight, there was an otherworldly glow about her that set her apart.

Her gown, a flowing cascade of pale gold, caught the last rays of sunlight, shimmering like liquid dawn. Wildflowers braided through her hair glowed softly in the dimming light, harmonizing perfectly with the blossoms native to the Silverblade borders. She appeared to belong not only to the ceremony but to the very land itself, a living embodiment of its spirit.

In the front row, Nathan squeezed Elaine’s hand with barely contained excitement, practically vibrating with anticipation.

“Mommy, look! Auntie Roselyn looks like a fairy queen!” he exclaimed in a hushed voice, though it was far from quiet.

Elaine stifled a laugh, brushing her fingers through his soft curls. “Yes, sweetheart,” she whispered gently, “she really does.”

Behind them, Darius stood tall, allowing himself a rare smile. His wolf, typically guarded and stoic, hummed with a sense of contentment. This night marked the dawn of new beginnings, and he felt the weight of hope settle over him like a warm blanket.

Elder Rowan stepped forward, his tall figure casting a long shadow against the flickering torchlight. His silver robes billowed softly in the breeze, and when he spoke, his voice resonated with authority and grace, effortlessly carrying over the assembled wolves.

“Tonight,” he proclaimed, “we gather to honor the transition of leadership from Alpha Michael and Luna Kathy to their successors—Alpha Calvin and Luna Roselyn. With them, we celebrate years filled with sacrifice, loyalty, and love for the Silverblade Pack.”

A solemn hush enveloped the crowd, and every wolf bowed their head in a gesture of respect.

Then, Michael stepped forward.

The silence that fell over the courtyard was palpable, heavy with emotion, memories, and all the words left unspoken over the years.

Michael appeared transformed.

Gone was the fierce, commanding aura that had once crackled around him like a thunderstorm. Instead, he exuded a gentler, quieter presence—an embodiment of a man no longer burdened by power but weighed down by the lessons learned in the most difficult of ways.

He walked to the center of the platform, the fading sunlight illuminating the faint lines of exhaustion and humility etched across his face. Taking a deep breath, he finally spoke, his voice low yet steady.

“Calvin… my brother in spirit, even before the title made it so.”

His gaze swept over the pack—the family he had both protected and failed, loved and hurt.

“I stand before you not as the Alpha you deserved, but as the man who tried… and stumbled far too often.”

A ripple of murmurs coursed through the crowd, but no one dared to look away.

“I made choices clouded by grief,” Michael continued, his voice thick with emotion. “I allowed my pain to blind me. I let bitterness carve its path through decisions that should have been made with clarity and strength.”

Kathy’s breath hitched, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears as she watched him speak the truth he had long avoided.

Michael’s voice trembled, yet he held firm, determination etched into his features.

“I hurt those I should have protected. I broke the trust I had sworn to uphold. Some wounds cannot be undone.” He paused, swallowing hard. “For that, I am truly sorry.”

Turning his full attention to Calvin, he placed a hand over his heart, a gesture filled with sincerity.

“But you… you are what this pack needs. Steady where I was shaken. Clear-sighted where I was lost. You walk with honor—not for glory, but for them.”

He gestured toward the pack, his voice rising with conviction.

“For our people.”

An elder stepped forward, presenting the ceremonial crest—a stunning piece of silver and obsidian, intricately carved with the Silverblade emblem. Michael touched it reverently, his thumb brushing over the grooves as if bidding farewell to an old friend.

“Calvin,” he said softly, “I give you what I can no longer carry with a clean conscience. Lead them better than I did. Heal what I fractured.”

A single tear slipped down his cheek, glistening like molten gold in the torchlight.

“And if the Moon Goddess wills it… let my mistakes be your lessons, not your burdens.”

With a deep, resolute breath, Michael bowed his head to Calvin—for the first and final time.

“Alpha Calvin.”

Silence hung in the air for a heartbeat, thick with the weight of the moment.

Then Calvin bowed deeply, placing a hand over his heart in a gesture of respect.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify