Writing the Invitations

The deafening crash of the border waterfall masked the harsh sound of Nyssa’s breathing. Ice-cold mist bit at her cheeks. For three exhaustive weeks following that devastating meeting in the Alpha’s office, she had sought refuge here. This roaring cascade was her absolute only sanctuary in the entire Grimwood territory. Hidden by dense pines, it was the one place she could safely break down. Here, she could scream until her throat bled. She could weep into the moss and furiously question the cruel designs of the Moon Goddess, demanding to know why her soul had been ripped in two. Everywhere else in the pack, an unrelenting, joyous buzz filled the air. Frenzied preparations consumed every waking moment for the grand, extravagant mating ceremony of their heroic future Alpha and his radiant, pregnant Luna-to-be. Nyssa’s exhausted heart withered a little more with each passing day.

The roar of the water faded into the scratching of a steel-nibbed pen. Nyssa sat straight-backed at her mahogany desk in the pack house administrative office. Her hidden agony deepened with her current task. The leadership had assigned her the cruel duty of handwriting and mailing the official ceremony invitations. She dipped her pen into the inkwell. She pulled a crisp envelope toward her, her hand moving with practiced elegance. *Future Alpha Cormac and Future Luna Talia.* She wrote the names again. And again. Writing Talia’s name delicately beside Cormac’s felt like driving a jagged blade directly into her own chest. That was her rightful place. By divine decree, her name belonged on that textured paper. Every stroke was a physical ache. Yet, she flawlessly masked her shattered soul behind an impenetrable, professional facade. Her lettering was pristine. Not a single smudge betrayed the storm raging inside her.

Footsteps echoed against the hardwood floor. Nyssa didn't look up until a shadow fell over her desk. Luna Isolde stepped into view, carrying a massive, fresh stack of blank invitations. She set them down with a heavy thud. Right beside the Luna stood Talia. Her sister was glowing, her pregnancy adding a soft flush to her cheeks. She was actively shadowing Isolde in her Luna training, soaking in the admiration of the pack. Nyssa refused to show a single ounce of weakness. She set her pen down and folded her hands over the desk, her face a blank canvas.

“I’m sorry if this is difficult for you, Nyssa,” Talia offered softly.

Her sister’s voice dripped with a pity that made Nyssa's skin crawl. The sympathy was hollow, a performative display meant to make Talia look benevolent. Nyssa felt a surge of rage, wanting to leap over the desk and claw that fake sorrow right off her sister’s face. Suppressing the fury, Nyssa smiled. It was a polite, empty expression.

“This is part of my duty, Future Luna. There’s nothing to apologize for.”

Talia flinched at the formal title. Nyssa kept her gaze steady, offering no comfort, before turning her attention sharply back to the current Luna.

“Is there anything else you require of me, Luna?”

Before Isolde could respond, the heavy oak doors of the administrative room swung open. Alpha Garrick strode in, bringing the scent of rain and authority. Beta Vance followed closely, carrying a ledger, with Cormac bringing up the rear. Nyssa’s stomach twisted into tight, painful knots, but she didn't flinch. She picked up her pen and readied her notepad. It was her job to sit here and document the event that would destroy her. The men gathered around the center table to finalize the ceremony's intricate details. Cormac walked straight to Talia. He draped his muscular arm fiercely and protectively around her shoulders, pulling her against his side. Nyssa sat mere feet away, dutifully and silently taking meticulous notes.

She recorded the budget for the decorations, the timing of the vows, and the seating arrangements. Then, the conversation shifted to the bonding ritual. Nyssa’s pen hovered as Cormac discussed the exact moment he would bite Talia's neck to seal the mate bond. Nyssa's wolf thrashed inside her mind, howling in primal agony. The restraint required to sit there and write it down was excruciating. Every time she looked up, she saw Cormac holding Talia. Each glance carved a fresh crack into her heart. The Goddess had made him for her.

“Do you have any creative suggestions for the grand event, Nyssa?” Luna Isolde asked.

The question was awkward, almost mocking. The entire room went silent. The pitying, uncomfortable stares of the pack's leadership instantly fixed on Nyssa. Beta Vance shifted his weight. Cormac tightened his grip on Talia. Nyssa kept her voice perfectly, chillingly detached.

“No, Luna. I don’t have any suggestions.”

Isolde muttered, her brow creasing with guilt. “I'm sorry, Nyssa. I only wanted to include everyone. I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for, Luna,” Nyssa replied smoothly, offering a hollow smile. “I understand.”

She refused to give them the satisfaction of her tears. Then, the final, deepest, most agonizing wound came directly from Alpha Garrick. He stepped forward, his strong jaw tight with a complicated mix of buried guilt and unwavering political resolve. He stared down at her and delivered a crushing, inescapable command.

“You have to attend the ceremony, Nyssa.”

The words sucked the oxygen out of the room. They had denied her sacred bond, stripped her of her family, and cast her out to the fringes. Now, they sadistically demanded she stand in the massive crowd and watch the very man the Goddess uniquely chose for her permanently bind his soul to another woman. Nyssa met the Alpha’s gaze. Her dark eyes locked onto his, forcing him to directly face his own monstrous cruelty.

“Of course, Alpha,” she replied steadily. “How do you wish me to act during the ceremony?”

An incredibly thick, uncomfortable silence slammed down over the room. The weight of her question exposed their deep hypocrisy. Vance looked at the floor. Talia hid her face against Cormac’s chest. Cormac stared at the wall. They all knew what they were doing to her.

Garrick exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples. “Just act happy for the new leaders of the pack.”

Nyssa offered a cold, brittle smile that didn't reach her dead eyes. She agreed with perfect obedience.

“Of course, Alpha. If that is all, may I excuse myself?”

Garrick gave a curt, strained nod.

Nyssa stood from her chair and bowed respectfully. She turned with perfect grace and walked silently out of the room. Her footsteps were measured and calm. She stepped into the hallway and pulled the heavy oak door shut. Only when the door closed behind her, shielding her from their gaze, did she finally allow her tightly clenched hands to tremble.