Hearing my mother’s story broke something in me. Not a clean break—but a long crack, jagged and deep, like glass under pressure. Every word she spoke carried a weight I wasn’t prepared for. The heartache she endured—alone, bleeding, terrified—was carved into every breath she took while telling it. And when she finally admitted that I was supposed to be a twin, that my twin did not survive the suffering she went through… the air in the room turned sharp, unforgiving.
A scream pulsed behind my ribs.
My wolf paced inside me, a storm made of teeth and fury.
We were supposed to be two, he growled. They hurt us. They hurt mother.
I wanted to rage—tear down walls, hunt every shadow of those who caused her pain. My mother, the warmest soul I know—the Luna who always spoke gently, who touched o
