Ashes of the Fallen

Elara's POV

The morning air was crisp and biting as I stood at our agreed meeting location outside the Argentmaw Manor. Frost coated the stone path, chilling me through my thin jacket. I stood there, watching the sunrise bleed gray over the horizon, waiting for a mate who had clearly decided not to show.

Dravos had promised he would be here. Last night, he had looked me in the eyes and said alright. Yet the courtyard remained deserted.

The silence stretched on, amplifying the hollow feeling in my chest. I stared at the empty road, desperate for a sliver of hope. I reached out for Dravos through the mind-link. I cast my thoughts out across our bond, searching for his familiar presence, praying he was delayed in transit. Praying that for once, he would show up for me on the most significant day of my life.

A click echoed in my mind. He answered.

"Dravos?" I projected.

His mental voice did not rush. It lacked any trace of guilt or urgency. Instead, his tone hit me with a flat, undeniable boredom.

"Sivya fainted this morning," he announced.

The casual nature of his words acted like a physical blow to my ribs.

"She said she woke up dizzy and couldn't breathe," he continued, the dull indifference in his explanation suffocating me. "I'm staying with her at the infirmary."

Before I could process the excuse, background noise filtered through our psychic tether.

"Dravos?" Sivya’s delicate, airy voice chimed in. It sounded measured and soft. "Could you fluff the pillow behind my neck? The angle is making me lightheaded."

Dravos’s tone shifted from cold annoyance with me to pure devotion.

"Of course, darling," he chuckled softly, his voice dropping to a tender register. He treated her as if she were crafted from the most fragile glass. "Just a second."

Then, without another word to me, the line went dead.

Silence crashed over me. I stood frozen on the frosted grass.

There was no apology. There was no explanation for abandoning me. On the solemn duty of attending my parents' funeral, he had chosen to coddle Sivya over a fainting spell. And this was not the first time. He chose her over me. Again.

I swallowed the intense, burning urge to scream until my throat bled. I wanted to roar until my vocal cords snapped. I wanted to tear the courtyard apart with my bare hands. But I didn't. I locked down my suppressed Alpha aura and forced the rage deep into the pit of my stomach. I forced my spine straight and walked out of the Argentmaw Manor without casting a single backward glance.

The drive to the outer garrison took an hour. I sat in silence, my hands gripping the steering wheel tight. Thick morning fog rolled across the winding road. Up ahead, the solemn stone towers of the war barracks pierced the gray mist. The imposing structure was a stark reminder of the life I had left behind to play the role of a docile Omega.

Three agonizing years had passed since I officially retired. Yet, as I stepped out of my car, my muscles remembered. My posture had not forgotten my grueling time in the Steelmaw Recon Unit.

Gravel crunched beneath my boots. I walked toward the formidable front line of guards. They wore ceremonial black armor, standing like statues in the mist. I stopped a few paces away. Raising a crisp, unwavering salute, I stood tall.

Even if I am alone in this world, I will honor my family.

"Former Steelmaw Recon Unit Commander, Elara Valkar," my voice rang out, shattering the fog. "Reporting to receive the ashes of Healer Olyra and Commander Garrick Valkar—fallen in service to the Lupine Dominion."

The words hung in the cold air.

Slowly, the heavy iron gates creaked open.

Two rows of battle-hardened soldiers emerged. They moved in perfect, disciplined synchronization. They lined the pathway, their faces locked in reverent sorrow, and raised their arms in a deep salute.

At their very center walked General Vargas. The man of immense respect moved with slow purpose, carefully carrying a carved onyx urn. A heavy crimson-and-gold battle standard draped the stone.

My chest tightened. That banner wasn't just cloth. It represented the blood they gave.

General Vargas stopped in front of me. His weathered face held an uncharacteristic sorrow and reverence.

"When we found them... there was no separating what was hers and what was his," Vargas said, his voice thick with raw emotion. "The explosion took everything."

I stared at the black stone urn. My emotional dam threatened to break.

"They fought side by side," Vargas continued softly. "They died together. The ashes... were combined."

Trembling, I reached out and let my fingers trace the intricate carvings on the cold stone.

"Good," I whispered. "They loved each other more than life. In death, they should stay that way."

Vargas formalized his stance. He handed the heavy urn to me.

The imposing soldiers behind him echoed in a massive wall of thunder:

"Honor to the fallen! Glory to the Valkar line!"

As my bare hands closed around the heavy, sacred weight of my parents' remains, the cold stone anchored me. The overwhelming grief finally settled into a hardened, steady purpose.

Vargas watched my face carefully. His tactical mind assessed my solitary state. He scanned the empty space behind me.

"Where's your mate?" Vargas asked, his brow furrowing. "Didn't he come with you?"

Staring down at the obsidian urn, I offered a small, tired smile.

"He was needed elsewhere," I replied.

Vargas was a seasoned veteran. He is no fool and sees right through the polite lie. His jaw tightened. He reached out and gripped my shoulder with firm, fatherly strength.

"Listen to me, Elara," Vargas reminded me, dropping the formal titles. "Even if this current pack fails to recognize your inherent strength, we do not forget. The disbanded Steelmaw Unit's loyalty never dies. You are always welcome back within these walls."

My throat tightened. "Thank you, General."

I turned on my heel. Clinging to the urn, I walked back to my car. I opened the passenger door and placed the heavy onyx stone onto the seat. I strapped the urn gently into the passenger seat, treating the cold stone as if it were still living flesh and blood. To hide it from prying eyes at the manor, I placed it inside a simple black wooden box.

I shut the door and slid into the driver's seat. Gripping the wheel, I looked out at the endless open road ahead.

"We're going home now, Mom. Dad," I whispered into the quiet cabin.

Pressing my foot firmly to the pedal, I drove forward.

Alone—but no longer broken.