The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 39

**Midnight Letters by Daniel Crowe**
**Chapter 39**

The relentless rain fell in sheets over the ancestral cemetery of the Moonvale Pack, each droplet a reminder of the heavy weight that hung in the air. The scent of damp earth mixed with the unique metallic tang of silverstone, creating an atmosphere that felt almost suffocating in its intensity.

Amidst the storm, Alpha Remus’s voice sliced through the chaos like a sharp blade, commanding and unyielding. “On your knees,” he ordered, his tone cold and devoid of warmth, resonating with the authority only an Alpha could wield.

Aysel remained silent, her heart pounding in her chest.

This was the grave of the wolf whose life had been extinguished because of her.

The photo etched into the tombstone, once vibrant, was now being washed away by the unrelenting rain. Aysel felt a strange sense of acceptance wash over her, and without protest, she sank to her knees. The marble felt unforgiving beneath her, a hollow thud echoing in the stillness as icy water pooled around her, soaking through her clothes and chilling her to the bone.

“We’re not asking you to worship your savior’s daughter,” Alpha Remus continued, his voice as unyielding as granite. “But at the very least, show some gratitude. Reflect on the years you’ve spent in denial. Can you truly face your aunt, Aysel? You will kneel here today and repent before her spirit.”

Each word from her family struck her like a lash against her skin, leaving invisible wounds that throbbed with shame.

The rain intensified, driven by a sharp northern wind that whipped across her face, chilling her to the core. Even the flimsy umbrella could do little to shield her from the downpour.

It was frigid—so cold that Aysel felt as though she had never truly escaped that storm from her childhood, the one that had left her drenched and shivering at just six years old.

After what felt like an eternity of silence, Celestine finally managed to convince the others to retreat to the safety of the convoy, leaving behind the two of them: one kneeling in sorrow, the other standing resolute before the grave of Luna Yuna Ward.

The silence stretched like a taut string until Celestine finally broke it, her voice soft and almost hesitant. “You know,” she began, her words barely above a whisper, “I used to envy you.”

Once upon a time, she hadn’t been Celestine Ward at all.

She had been Celestine Voss, the daughter of a broken rogue wolf—Carden Voss, a man consumed by his vices: a drunkard, a gambler, and a brutal abuser, who hid his darkness behind a façade of civility.

For years, Celestine believed that all fathers were like him.

Her mother, proud and fiercely stubborn, had never sought help from her family, nor had she allowed the pack to witness the depths of her despair. The two of them had lived on the fringes, surrounded by rogues and half-bloods, isolated and scraping by on whatever scraps they could find.

The pups around her cruelly taunted her, calling her “trash-born” and “mud wolf.”

In retaliation, she had bit back with insults of her own, referring to them as “strays without a den.”

Their existence was a brutal cycle of tooth for tooth, claw for claw.

Then one fateful day, everything changed when she met Aysel Vale—her little cousin from the Moonvale Pack.

Aysel had been a vision, clad in a floral dress that danced with the breeze, her scent a blend of lilies and the purity of Alpha blood. The golden aura that surrounded her was so radiant that Celestine could scarcely bear to look directly at her.

In that instant, Celestine realized that there existed wolves who thrived under the sun, unshackled from the shadows of despair.

Aysel had it all: adoring parents, brothers who cherished her, a home overflowing with warmth and laughter. She was carefree, her brightness almost infuriating in contrast to Celestine’s own darkness.

During their first encounter, Celestine hadn’t even dared to extend her hand, terrified that her dirty fingers might tarnish Aysel’s delicate fabric.

But Aysel had been unbothered, bounding forward with a joyful giggle, enveloping her in a hug and sharing candies and toys that Celestine had never even glimpsed before.

In that moment, a seed of hatred took root within Celestine.

Aysel’s light made her own darkness unbearable.

When Luna Evelyn and Alpha Remus finally noticed her, their smiles faltered. Though they had never intended to harm Yuna, guilt gnawed at their consciences. They acted swiftly, banishing Carden from her life and casting him into the rogues’ prison, sending Yuna enough silver to rebuild her life.

When Yuna returned to her mother’s den, the first act she performed was to strip Celestine of her father’s name.

She became Celestine Ward—a declaration to the world that she was Yuna’s daughter, not his.

Life grew easier after that.

Back in the care of the Ward family, she no longer feared hunger or the sting of violence. She and her mother often returned to the Moonvale Pack, where Celestine would confide to her mother that she despised those visits, loathed how insignificant she felt beside Aysel’s brilliance.

Her mother would stroke her hair gently, whispering, “What your cousin possesses, you will have too. What she took from me, I will reclaim for you.”

Not long before her death, Yuna’s demeanor shifted.

Her voice took on a strange quality, filled with an unsettling calm that felt like a farewell.

She would murmur to herself beneath the moonlight, “My daughter will live better than hers. What Moonvale owes me will be repaid—one way or another.”

Celestine had never doubted her mother’s love.

Yuna Ward had given everything—her blood, her sanity, her very life—for her daughter.

And now, standing before her mother’s grave in the ceaseless rain, Celestine’s voice quivered, low and almost reverent. “I used to envy you, Aysel,” she admitted again, her heart heavy with unspoken truths.

“But now I wonder—if you had lived my life, would you still be able to shine?”