u/BaronessBeatrice

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The One Chosen to Die

The witch told us my older sister would die at sixteen, and her prophecies had never been wrong.

From that moment on, my sister became the most important one in the family.

The best venison was saved for her. The rare white fox fur was given to her. Every night, our parents told her bedtime stories.

I knew she was pitiful, but I still felt hurt and resentful.

Then, on the day she turned sixteen, a sharp pain spread through my chest. Afraid I would cause trouble, my parents locked me in the basement.

“Mom, please…” I cried, pounding on the door. “I can feel my wolf spirit getting weaker. Let me out…”

However, Mom said without hesitation, “No! Today is an important day for your sister.

“She only has one day left. Just bear with it…”

When I finally closed my eyes and my soul drifted out of my body, I saw the living room filled with warm candlelight.

My parents were holding my sister who was alive and well as they cried.

Only then did I realize that the witch’s prophecy had never been wrong.

The one meant to die was never my sister.

Chapter 1

The moment my soul drifted out of my body, I could no longer feel any pain.

My heart stopped pumping, and the ache in my chest disappeared. I simply floated upward, light and weightless, and passed through the basement door.

The same door I had just been banging on yet could not open.

In the living room, candlelight flickered. A warm yellow glow fell across my parents’ and sister’s faces.

They sat close together on a fur rug. Mom, Linda Walker, gently patted my sister Bella Roth’s back.

Dad, David Roth, kept his head lowered, his shoulders trembling. It was hard to tell whether he was crying or holding it in.

Bella was wearing that white fox fur dress, the only one in the house who had it.

The fur at the hem shimmered silver in the candlelight, making her face look even paler.

“Mom, Dad, is Clara really okay?” Bella asked softly. “I heard her saying her chest hurt…”

Linda’s hand paused for a moment, then continued.

“Don’t worry about her,” she said coldly. “She’s just pretending to gain sympathy. You know how she is.”

Pretending.

To gain sympathy.

I stood in front of them, already dead. So why did I still feel like crying?

Bella opened her mouth as if to speak, but Dad suddenly looked up, his eyes red.

“Bella, don’t worry about her,” he said. “Today is your sixteenth birthday. You just need to be happy.”

Since birth, a witch had said that Bella would die at sixteen.

Her prophecies had never been wrong. So in this house, everything good belonged to Bella.

The best venison, the warmest furs, and all of our parents’ love and patience.

I felt resentful and jealous. However, I knew Bella had done nothing wrong.

It was all because of that damn prophecy!

Bella would secretly put healing herbs under my pillow.

She would take apart the warm wrist guards our parents gave her, adjust them, and give them to me.

Every time our parents scolded me for being naughty or immature, Bella would always be the first to rush over and stand in front of me.

“It’s not like that, Clara didn’t…”

She always said, “Clara, I’m sorry. It’s all because of me…”

Then our parents would pull her away and say, “You’re too kind. Don’t speak for her.”

Linda suddenly sighed, her voice filled with exhaustion and resentment.

“She’s been jealous of you since she was little. Do you remember her fourteenth birthday?

“She threw a tantrum and overturned the altar. The whole family had to clean up for a long time.”

That time, our parents forgot it was my birthday, too.

They bought Bella a new pair of deer-hide boots, while I got nothing.

I just wanted… Mom and Dad to notice me too.

No one remembered how wronged I felt, though. They only cared about Bella.

Bella’s lips moved, and I saw her eyes turn red.

“Mom, actually, that time it was—”

“Alright, enough,” Linda interrupted, pulling her into her arms. “Today is about you. Don’t talk about unhappy things.”

I reached out, trying to grab Bella’s hand.

I wanted to tell her it was okay and that I didn’t blame her.

However, my fingers passed through her wrist. I couldn’t touch anything.

My vision passed through the walls, the hallway, the locked wooden door, and fell back into the basement.

I saw myself curled up on the pile of hay.

My body lay there, my face pale, and my lips purple.

I had forgotten that I was already dead and couldn’t touch anyone anymore.

The witch was right. Bella would die at sixteen.

It was just that no one expected mine would end first before Bella’s time ran out.

I died on Bella’s sixteenth birthday, when my mom said, “Just bear with it.”

Chapter 2

When I was five or six, I really did hate my sister.

At that time, I didn’t understand what a countdown was.

I only knew that when there was only one piece of dried meat in the house, it belonged to her.

The only jar of healing ointment was used on her.

When a new fur coat was made, she wore it first, and I wore her old clothes. The sleeves were too long and didn’t fit at all.

Even the bedtime stories every night were told only to her.

I would lie by the crack of the door. Watching the three of them huddled together in the candlelight, my chest would tighten.

Back then, I felt wronged. I thought my sister had taken everything from me.

In the fall, when I was seven, Dad brought back a deer.

Mom made a big pot of soup. The whole house smelled like meat, and I squatted by the stove, salivating.

When the soup was served, the two biggest venison legs were placed into Bella’s bowl. The smell was rich.

“Bella, eat more. You need it,” Linda said gently.

I looked at my own bowl. It was a clear soup, with a few leaves floating on top, and only bits of meat.

My tears fell at once.

“Why does she get both legs?!” I shouted.

David slammed his hand on the stone table. The bowls and plates shook.

He glared at me. “Why are you so unreasonable? Your sister is weak. What’s wrong with her eating more meat?”

Unreasonable. There was that word again.

I jumped up and pointed at Bella’s pale face, at the two venison legs in her bowl, and screamed.

“Why don’t you just die?! Give me back everything that’s mine!”

The moment the words left my mouth, I saw tears fall from her eyes, dropping into her bowl.

Her lips trembled. She said something, but I didn’t hear it.

The next second, Linda’s hand struck my face.

My mom had never hit me before. That was the first time.

I covered my face and stood there, stunned, tears all over my face.

David walked over, grabbed me, and threw me out the door. He told me to stay outside and reflect.

The door closed behind me.

I cried in the yard the whole night. My face was swollen, and my stomach was empty. However, no one came to check on me.

Before dawn the next day, I got up and tried to go back inside.

As I passed the kitchen, I heard David and Linda talking inside. Their voices were very low.

I crouched under the window and listened.

“Nine years left.” Linda was crying, her voice suppressed, as if afraid someone would hear.

David didn’t speak. I could only hear his heavy breathing.

“The witch’s prophecy has never been wrong,” Linda cried again. “My Bella… she only has nine years left.”

David finally spoke, his voice hoarse. “Stop crying. The pups might hear.”

“I know… I know…” Linda sobbed.

“But yesterday, Clara pointed at Bella and told her to die… She doesn’t know her sister really will die…”

I crouched under the window, feeling regret for what I had done.

So there was a reason they treated Bella so well…

I slowly stood up and walked on my toes toward Bella’s room.

The door wasn’t fully closed. I saw her lying on the bed, her eyes shut, tear marks still on her face.

Beside her pillow was a small cloth pouch, clumsily sewn. On it was my name.

I wanted to open it and see what was inside.

Just as I reached out, Bella suddenly opened her eyes. When she saw me, she paused, then smiled.

“Clara,” her voice was hoarse. “Does your face still hurt?”

“You didn’t eat dinner, right? You must be hungry. There’s bread in the pouch I saved for you. Take it…”

I turned and ran.

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When the Luna Vanished

Chapter 1

After my fifth daughter died, I made sure to shed every single habit my mate, the Alpha, couldn’t stand.

His military training exercise ended on the 7th, so I scheduled my duty shift for the 8th.

If he wanted to spend time with his childhood sweetheart, I’d quietly step out of our marital suite and take my things up to the quiet attic.

Even on the day of the burial, when the mortician asked me to inform the father, I just answered, calm as still water, “She doesn’t have a father.”

One of the staff recognized me. “You’re Luna Celeste, aren’t you? Alpha Isaac is just over at the adjacent camp — should I go get him?”

I shook my head gently, “No need.”

Half an hour later, Issac Bennett still arrived.

The man’s sharp features were darkened by a stormy ferocity, his voice cold and low. “Celeste Brown! Why didn’t you wait? I’m Harper’s father, too!”

My voice remained steady, “You’re swamped with pack business. Harper would understand.”

That overly compliant response irritated Issac for no reason.

He opened his mouth, but the whispers swirling around us nailed his boots to the ground.

“Alpha Issac dotes on Layra so much—he guarded her day and night just because she had a nightmare, ignoring his own daughter’s funeral.”

“See? He only came after Layra fell asleep.”

“Layra killed five daughters of Alpha Issac and Luna Celeste, yet Alpha Issac still protects her. How forgiving!”

Isaac’s hands clenched into fists. His gaze turned wary, fixed on me, braced for the hysterical scene he was used to.

But not even my eyelashes fluttered. I simply laid the last handful of soil over the grave in silence.

“Celeste, Layra’s ill,” he said, “she only took her anger out on the children. Don’t hold it against her.”

“You’re healthy—you can have more kids. We’ll have a family again someday.”

Issac’s tone sounded uneasy. I nodded calmly.

What he didn’t know? He was naturally sterile.

I had to beg the Golden Witch ninety-nine times before she finally gave me five moonstones, each capable of granting a single wish.

I used every single one to wish for his child.

After birthing five daughters, it was time to keep my promise to the Golden Witch.

In three days, I’d leave Stormborn Pack.

And he? He was destined to die without an heir.

Back at Stormborn Pack’s wolfhouse, Layra Clark and former Luna Mrs. Bennett waited for me.

Mrs. Bennett snapped, “Celeste Brown has lost five children in a row—she must be morally corrupt, unfit to be a mother!”

“The Stormborn line has held strong for over a century, with a single heir in each generation. She couldn’t give us a son. Now she can’t even keep a daughter breathing!”

“Issac, your father is furious. He expects an explanation.”

Issac frowned, glancing at my pale face.

“Mother, I understand. I’ll handle it.”

But Mrs. Bennett didn’t leave.

“Your mother needs to know how you intend to punish Celeste Brown. A punishment will satisfy your father.”

My fingers clenched the fabric of my dress. Against all reason, a sliver of hope stirred in my chest—that he would finally speak the truth about our daughters’ deaths.

But he didn’t.

He only spoke impatiently, “What do you want? Celeste just gave birth—are you trying to kill her?”

Seeing Mrs. Bennett’s anger flare, Layra Clark tugged gently at Issac’s sleeve.

“Alpha, Mrs. Bennett means well,” she said softly.

“A light punishment won’t satisfy Mrs. Bennett or the Elders' Council, but a harsh one would break your mate. Why not make her kneel the steps of the forest chapel on the outskirts to pray for blessings? It serves two purposes, doesn’t it?”

Issac hesitated, his eyes softening as he looked at my fragile state.

But in the end, he said, “Do as you suggest.”

Mrs. Bennett finally calmed, and Layra Clark escorted her out.

Issac’s face filled with guilt as he squeezed my hand.

“Celeste… I’m sorry. I know you’ve been wronged. But don’t blame me for keeping quiet. It’s for the best, for everyone. Layla… she never meant to cause you pain.”

“My mother never approved of Layra for failing to bear a son, so she made me marry you and keep Layra as my mistress. If mother learns Layra killed our children, Layra will die.”

He’d said these exact words five times—maybe more.

But kneeling three thousand steps of the forest chapel? For someone who’d just given birth, it would take half her life, if not all of it.

I hadn’t always submitted.

Last time, he’d skipped the pack meeting just to have a candlelit dinner with Layra Clark.

Mrs. Bennett was enraged and wanted to punish Layra.

Without hesitation, Issac pushed me forward—pregnant with our fourth child at four months—and blamed me for inciting her.

I’d snapped, revealing the truth on the spot.

In the end, Layra was punished by Mrs. Bennett.

Isaac ignored my desperate pleading and had my most loyal maid beaten to death with rods.

His excuse? I’d spoken out of turn, and punishing a servant would serve as a warning.

My heart had long gone numb.

Thankfully, the Golden Witch had promised I’d be free in three days.

I looked at Isaac, my voice steady. “Your mother is right. I couldn’t keep a single one of my five children. I deserve this.”