Ravhiel slowly looked up at her, and Luna felt her breath catch.
Up close, the damage was even more visible—dark purple bruises blooming across his cheekbones, a shallow cut still crusted with dried blood above his brow, and the faint tremble in his lower lip. There was dirt smudged along his jaw, and the hollowness in his usually serene eyes made something clench in Luna's chest.
He looked so… pitiful.
Broken.
And as he sat slumped in that wheelchair, trying so hard to maintain whatever pride he still had left, Luna couldn't help but feel something twist uncomfortably in her gut.
"Luna," Ravhiel's voice came out softer than usual, barely above a whisper. "If it's okay with you... may we end the tour now?"
She blinked, startled by the suddenness of his request. There was no preamble, no acknowledgment of her questions earlier. He simply... asked to stop.
'Did he just ignore me?' she thought, a flicker of irritation flashing beneath her confusion. But as her eyes flicked back to the bruises on his face, she couldn't bring herself to press.
The tour was almost done anyway.
She gave a small nod in response.
But now that it was over, she stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do next.
Then Ravhiel lifted his trembling hands—delicate fingers twitching as if they could barely hold themselves up—and offered her a strained smile.
"If you also don't mind," he said, "my hands are… aching." His voice was still gentle, but tinged with exhaustion. "Can you wheel me back to my garden?"
'Oh.' Luna blinked, momentarily caught off guard. That was… unexpected. Not something she minded, but it did seem to come out of nowhere. "O-Okay?" she replied, though it sounded more like a question than a real answer.
Ravhiel's smile softened. "Thank you. I apologize for having to rely on you, especially when I was supposed to be the one assisting you."
Without another word, Luna stepped behind the wheelchair and wrapped her hands around the cold metal handles. She started pushing gently, following the path they had come from.
'Is he really not going to acknowledge my question?' she thought, narrowing her eyes slightly as they rolled forward.
The silence stretched on.
Uncomfortably long.
Only Ravhiel's slightly labored breathing filled the quiet space between them, along with distant chatter from the pack—laughter from the other alphas, and sobbing from the captured human women Luna tried to pretend she didn't hear.
The occasional call of a wild animal echoed from within the woods, the rustle of leaves providing the only natural rhythm to their walk.
Luna would glance down at him now and then, wondering if he was going to speak. But Ravhiel kept his head held high, refusing to look at her, as though sheer willpower could make him seem stronger than he was.
She wasn't sure if it made him more admirable… or more tragic.
Eventually, they reached the garden—the same one where they had first met. It looked quieter now. Rose, the soft-spoken thrall, was nowhere to be found. The flowers swayed in the breeze like nothing had happened, untouched by violence or cruelty.
It was just the two of them now.
And for the first time, Ravhiel finally spoke.
"Silverweight is an insult tailored specifically for me, as you've already guessed," he said quietly, voice dropping. His once-upright posture began to slump as his head dipped forward, shoulder-length hair spilling like a curtain over his face.
Luna stopped walking, letting the wheelchair rest. She didn't say anything yet. She just listened.
'Did he wait until no one else could hear?' she wondered, watching the way his shoulders tensed ever so slightly.
"There are old legends," Ravhiel continued, "that say silver is deadly to werewolves. That it burns, that it kills us." His voice held a trace of bitter amusement. "So they call me Silverweight—because I'm deadweight. I'm the only useless werewolf here."
He lifted one hand shakily, as if to gesture to himself.
"Of course I am. I'm crippled, after all."
Luna swallowed hard.
'What happened to him? Why… why can't he heal?' she wondered, her brows furrowing. Werewolves were supposed to regenerate, weren't they? Fast. Efficient. But Ravhiel—he seemed to be hanging on by threads.
"I am treated… the way I am," Ravhiel said, still trying to speak calmly, with that quiet poise he clung to so tightly, "because weakness is not tolerated. In this pack—or any pack—the strong rise. The weak are... discarded."
He tried to smile.
Tried.
But the corners of his lips barely moved.
"We are weak for a reason."
His tone sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as her.
And yet, no matter how polished his words were, they couldn't mask the pain behind them. The deep shame. The isolation.
Then came a truth Luna had already guessed—but still wasn't prepared for.
"And yes," Ravhiel said softly, "I am the chief's biological son."
Luna's eyes widened slightly.
Even though she'd suspected it—felt it in the way the others treated him—it was still a shock to hear it confirmed.
"W-Why aren't you the next chief then?" she asked quietly.
Ravhiel's mouth twisted, the closest thing to a bitter smile she'd seen from him.
"Because a chief is supposed to protect his pack," he said. "He is supposed to stand above all. He must be strong."
His voice cracked—just a little. Barely audible.
"The moment I was crippled... was the moment I stopped being the heir. And the moment I stopped being my father's son."
Luna couldn't breathe for a second.
'That's… horrible.'
"What..." Her throat tightened as she looked down at him, her hands still resting on the wheelchair handles. She wanted to say something—to ask what had happened, why he hadn't healed, what could be done—but her words caught in her throat.
She couldn't ask.
Not yet.
Instead of asking the dozens of questions clawing at her throat—about Ravhiel's past, his pain, or the cruelty he endured—Luna swallowed her unease and asked the one that had been haunting her since she stepped foot in this place.
"Will they treat me like that too?" Her voice came out small, uncertain, but it carried weight. "I... I may be a female werewolf. Maybe the first one in years, yes. B-But..." her hands trembled slightly as she tried to put her fears into words, "I'm also just a breeding tool, right? It's... It's not like I'm an alpha like them or a warrior…"
She looked down, her throat tightening.
She needed to know.
She needed to understand what she was to them—what she would be to them.
Because running wasn't an option.
Not yet.
Not with chains she couldn't see but could feel tightening around her every day.
'I have to find a way to escape... but not just me.'
'Those women…' Her stomach twisted at the thought of them—the humans locked in cold metal cages, stripped of their names, their dignity, their futures. Used and discarded like nothing more than livestock.
'They deserve freedom too. There has to be something I can do.'
Ravhiel chuckled softly—not mockingly, but in that same pained, wistful way he often seemed to smile.
"Oh, Luna..." he murmured, voice low and almost tender. "You saw how my father treated you earlier."
He turned his head slightly to look up at her, his pale eyes searching hers.
"Luna, rest assured. The elders and my father—they value you. Highly. You are rare. Sacred, even. They might come to treat you with more reverence than even the five ruling males."
Luna's eyes widened, breath catching in her throat.
"What… which means?" she asked, barely above a whisper.
Ravhiel smiled again, this time with a touch of something darker—maybe amusement, maybe warning.
"Which means," he said slowly, "they will do whatever it takes to get you on their side. The five—they may be different, have their own personalities, their own beliefs—but they will all understand eventually."
He paused, his voice turning thoughtful.
"Some may already realize it."
A chill skated down Luna's spine.
She wasn't sure if she should be relieved... or terrified.
But before she could ask more, Ravhiel continued, "The five all have different personalities, but—"
"Shouldn't Luna be by the council room by now?"
A sharp, unfamiliar voice cut clean through Ravhiel's words like a blade.
Both Luna and Ravhiel immediately turned their heads, startled.
The calm that had settled around the garden shattered in an instant.