Under the full moon festival, Alpha Kael publicly claimed the warrior Lyra as his mate, then arrogantly ordered me to remain in the pack as his unpaid healer. He smirked, expecting me to swallow the humiliation. Instead of begging, I drew my harvesting dagger and sliced deeply into my palm. I forcefully severed our fateful mate bond, letting the agonizing pain of the backlash tear through my veins. As my blood dripped, I tossed the precious Heart-Shield potion I had painstakingly brewed for him straight into the roaring bonfire. Dragging my bleeding body, I stepped into the deadly shadows of the Black Moon Forest. Kael sneered that I would never survive the night in the graveyard of the weak, entirely unaware of who was watching from the dark.