Cora didn't sleep well.
Dawn crept through the windows, Cora lay in the massive bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the silence of Damien's wing. He'd come to bed late — she'd felt the mattress dip, felt the heat of him settle beside her — but when she woke, his side was cold.
Gone.
She was getting used to a this changes.
The knock on the door was soft. Three quick raps, a pause, then two more.
"It's open."
Mira slipped inside, balancing a tray with one hand while closing the door with the other. The smell of fresh bread and coffee filled the room.
"Brought breakfast ." She set the tray on the vanity, pushing aside the Luna's jewels without ceremony. "And gossip. The breakfast is optional. The gossip is mandatory."
Cora pushed herself upright, wincing at the stiffness in her shoulders. "What kind of gossip?"
"The juicy kind." Mira dropped into the chair by the window, tucking her legs beneath her. "Half the pack thinks you're a hero for saving those people during the attack. The other half thinks you're a monster who should be burned at the stake."
"Lovely."
"It gets better. Seraphina hasn't left her chambers since last night. Rumor is she threw a vase at her handmaiden's head. Shattered it into a thousand pieces." Mira grinned. "The vase, not the head. Although I hear it was close."
Cora reached for the coffee. The warmth seeped into her palms, grounding her. "And the vampires?"
"Furious. The alliance was built on Seraphina becoming Luna. Now that's not happening, and they're scrambling." Mira's grin faded slightly. "There's talk of retaliation but it can Just whispers."
"Whispers can become actions."
"They can." Mira's eyes met hers. Steady. Serious beneath the lightness. "Which is why you need to be careful. Not everyone in this estate wants you alive, Cora. Some of them would celebrate if you choked on your breakfast."
Cora looked at the tray.
"Is that why you bring me food yourself?"
"Partly." Mira shrugged. "And partly because the kitchen staff are terrible gossips and I like knowing things before everyone else."
They ate together in comfortable silence.
Mira didn't fill every quiet moment with chatter. She seemed to understand that sometimes Cora needed space to think.
"Can I ask you something?" Cora said eventually.
"Always."
"Why are you nice to me?"
Mira blinked. "What?"
"Everyone else looks at me like I'm either I'm a threat but you just..." Cora struggled for the words. "You talk to me like I'm a person. Why?"
For a moment, Mira was quiet. She set down her cup, her expression thoughtful.
"My mother was human," she said. "Before she was turned."
Cora stared. "I didn't know wolves could be turned."
"They can't. Not usually. But my father was stubborn and my mother was dying and he found a witch who owed him a favor." Mira smiled, but it was sadder now. "The pack never fully accepted her. She was always the outsider, the one who didn't belong. She spent her whole life trying to prove herself, and it was never enough."
"What happened to her?"
"She died Ten years ago by Hunters, like the ones that attacked us ." Mira's jaw tightened. "My father hasn't been the same since."
Cora didn't know what to say. So she said the only thing that felt true.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. Just..." Mira met her eyes. "Don't let them make you feel like you don't belong. You're here. You're the Luna. And anyone who has a problem with that can fuck off."
Cora spent the morning exploring, Mira at her side, learning the rhythms of her new home. M
She tried to memorize everything. The route from Damien's wing to the kitchens. The back staircase that led to the gardens. The corridor that ended at a locked door no one would explain.
"What's behind there?" she asked.
"The Alpha's private study." Mira's voice dropped. "No one goes in without his permission. Not even the elders."
"Why?"
"Because the last person who tried is still missing three fingers."
Cora filed that away. Another piece of the puzzle that was Damien Volkov.
They turned a corner and nearly collided with someone.
Viktor.
He stepped back smoothly, a charming smile spreading across his face. "Ladies. My apologies. I wasn't watching where I was going."
His eyes found Cora's and held them. Warm. Friendly. Nothing like Damien's cold intensity.
"Luna," he said, inclining his head. "I hope you're recovering from last night's excitement."
Cora's skin prickled.
There was nothing wrong with his tone. Nothing threatening in his posture. He stood at a respectful distance, his hands visible, his smile pleasant.
So why did she feel like some kind of prey?
"I'm fine," she said. "Thank you."
"I'm glad to hear it." Viktor's gaze flickered to Mira, then back to Cora. "If you ever need anything , a tour of the grounds, someone to answer questions about the pack then I'm at your service. The Alpha is often busy with matters of state. I imagine it gets lonely."
"She's not lonely," Mira cut in. "She has me."
Viktor's smile didn't waver. "Of course. How fortunate." He stepped aside, gesturing for them to pass. "I won't keep you. But please, Luna , don't hesitate to seek me out. I'm always happy to help."
They walked past him. Cora felt his eyes on her back until they turned the corner.
"I don't like him," Mira said quietly.
"Why?"
"I don't know. He's too..." She searched for the word. "Smooth. Like everything he says is rehearsed."
"Yeah," she agreed. "I noticed that too."
The gardens were quieter than the rest of the estate.
Cora found herself drawn there as the afternoon stretched on, needing space from the stares and whispers. Mira came with her, settling on a stone bench while Cora wandered the paths.
The flowers were beautiful, vibrant and wild, nothing like the manicured arrangements she'd expected. They grew in tangles, spilling over borders, climbing walls, reaching toward the sun with desperate energy.
"The previous Luna planted these," Mira said from her bench. "Damien's mother. She loved gardens."
" Yeah you told me "
Cora paused by a bush heavy with dark red blooms. The petals were soft as silk beneath her fingers.
"What was she like?"
"I never met her. She died before I was born. But my mother knew her." Mira's voice softened. "Said she was a kind and Gentle woman .The only person who could make the old Alpha smile."
"The old Alpha." Cora's stomach tightened. "Damien's father."
"Alaric Volkov." The name fell from Mira's lips. "He led the Culling,Wiped out the witch bloodlines. They say he was ruthless and brutal. That he didn't stop until every witch stronghold was ash and bone."
Cora's hand stilled on the petals.
"And Damien?"
"He was young when it happened. Barely more than a child." Mira was quiet for a moment. "But he fought in the final battles. Everyone knows that. He earned his place as heir with blood."
The garden suddenly felt colder. The flowers less beautiful.
"I need to know more," she said quietly. "About the Culling. About what really happened."
Mira looked at her for a long moment.
"Then we should go to the library," she said. "The restricted section. That's where they keep the real histories."
The restricted section required a key.
Mira didn't have one. But she knew where to find one a Spare, hidden in the desk of the head librarian, an old wolf who spent more time sleeping.
"He won't notice it's gone," Mira whispered as they crept through the stacks. "He never does."
The key was exactly where she said it would be. It was heavy in Cora's palm.
The restricted section was behind a nondescript door at the back of the third floor.No sign of warning,Just a lock that clicked open when Cora turned the key.
Inside, the air was different.
Magic. Old magic. Embedded in the walls, the shelves, the very air.
"I'll keep watch," Mira said, hovering at the threshold. "Be quick."
Cora stepped inside.
The books here were different from the ones in the main library, it was older and darker. Bound in leather that looked almost like skin, stamped with symbols she didn't recognize.
She ran her fingers along the spines, searching. History. Bloodlines. The Culling.
A slim volume, tucked between two larger tomes. The spine was cracked, the title faded.
The Last Witches: A Chronicle of the Culling.
Cora pulled it free.
Her hands were trembling.
She opened to the first page.
The words blurred at first.
Cora blinked, forcing her eyes to focus. The handwriting was cramped, hurried, like the author had been racing against time.
"They came at dawn. The wolves and the vampires together, united by hatred and fear. They burned the sanctuary first — Aethelgard, the hidden city, home to the last of the great covens. The screams lasted for hours."
Cora's throat tightened.
"Alaric Volkov led the assault. He showed no mercy, Women, elderly and even children . All were slaughtered. Those who tried to surrender were killed anyway. He called it cleansing. We called it genocide."
She turned the page.
"The strongest bloodlines were targeted first. The Ashwoods. The Thornecrofts. The Valdris line. They hunted us by our magic, tracked us by our blood. By the end, only scattered survivors remained , hidden, broken, waiting for a death that never quite came."
The Valdris line.
The name tugged at something deep in Cora's chest."
She kept reading.
"There were rumors of survivors. Children smuggled away before the final battles. Babies hidden with human families, their magic bound, their identities erased. We hoped they would be safe. We hoped wrong."*
"The wolves found most of them. Killed them in their cribs, in their beds, in the arms of the humans who tried to protect them,even the humans themselves .
"But some escaped. Some survived."
"And one day, they will return."
The book trembled in Cora's hands.
She thought about her own past. The orphanage. The absence of family. The strange things that had always happened around her.
Who was she?
What was she?
The door creaked behind her.
"Cora." Mira's voice was urgent. "Someone's coming. We need to go. Now."