Chapter 700: DREAMS
One moment I was lying in my bed, the faint glow of moonlight brushing the curtains, my hand resting protectively over my stomach. The next, the world tilted, stretched, and folded in on itself like breath held too long.
I was standing.
Barefoot.
Cold stone pressed beneath my feet.
The air smelled wrong, too clean, too sharp, threaded with something metallic and old.
My heart began to race.
I knew this place.
And yet… I didn’t.
The Moonlight Pack.
But not as I remembered it.
I turned slowly, my breath catching.
The pack grounds were bathed in silver light, the moon hanging low and impossibly large above the spires.
The buildings were taller, more ornate than I had ever seen them. Pale stone gleamed softly, carved with delicate runes and arches that curved like living things rather than harsh edges.
Vines climbed walls where once there had been bare stone. Lanterns glowed with a steady warmth, not the harsh flicker I remembered. The streets were wide and clean, water channels running through them like veins, reflecting the moonlight back up into the sky.
It was… beautiful.
Too beautiful.
“This isn’t right,” I whispered.
My voice sounded strange here, like it didn’t quite belong.
Fear crept up my spine.
What am I doing here?
Is this a dream?
I took a cautious step forward.
No one stopped me.
Servants passed by carrying trays and linens, wolves in both shifted and unshifted forms moving through the space with quiet purpose. They brushed past me as though I weren’t there at all.
Invisible.
Unseen.
Except Urma.
My breath hitched.
She stood near the fountain at the center of the courtyard, her back straight, her hands folded neatly in front of her. She looked younger. Softer. Not the hardened woman I remembered, but not fragile either.
“Urma?” I called.
She didn’t turn.
Didn’t even flinch.
I stepped closer, my chest tightening.
And then I heard it.
A voice.
Soft.
Familiar in a way that sent pain straight through my ribs.
My mother.
I froze.
The sound came again, clearer now, drifting from one of the inner halls.
My feet moved before my mind could catch up.
I followed the voice through archways and corridors that shimmered faintly at the edges, as though the world here hadn’t fully decided what shape it wanted to be.
The deeper I went, the quieter everything became.
Until I reached a door.
Large.
Carved with wolves entwined beneath a crescent moon.
My hand trembled as I reached for it.
I pushed.
The room beyond was warm, golden light spilling across polished floors.
And there she was.
My mother.
Young.
So young it hurt to look at her.
Her red hair fell down her back in loose waves, catching the light like flame.
Her skin glowed with life, freckles dusting her cheeks and shoulders.
She wore a simple dress, nothing regal about it, and yet she stood like she belonged anywhere she chose to be.
Beside her stood Aiden.
My father
Younger too.
No streaks of silver in his hair. No weight behind his eyes. His posture was rigid, his jaw set, one hand tightly clasping my mother’s.
They weren’t alone.
Across from them stood two figures.
A man with blond hair streaked with gray, his features sharp and authoritative, a crown resting heavily upon his head.
And beside him, a woman.
Elegant. Cold. Her blonde hair was pinned perfectly in place, her posture rigid with restrained fury. Her eyes were locked on my mother with open disdain.
They looked to be in their early fifties.
Royal.
Power radiated from them both.
They were arguing.
“I forbid this,” the man snapped, his voice echoing through the chamber. “You will not marry a slave.”
The word struck like a slap.
My mother stiffened, but she did not let go of Aiden’s hand.
“She is my mate,” Aiden said fiercely. “She is my family.”
The woman let out a broken sound, pressing a hand to her chest.
“What did you do to my son?” she cried, turning on my mother. “What poison did you feed him? What trick have you played to make him turn against his own blood?”
My mother opened her mouth, but Aiden spoke first.
“She did nothing,” he said. “This was my choice.”
“You would throw away everything for her?” the man demanded. “Your title? Your future? Your duty?”
“Yes,” Aiden said without hesitation. “If that is the cost.”
The woman shook her head violently.
“She has cursed you,” she said. “Both of you. She has put hexes on my sons.”
My stomach twisted.
Hexes?
A movement in the corner caught my attention.
Another figure stepped forward.
A younger Bale.
My uncle.
He looked nothing like the monster I had come to fear. His face was open, conflicted, his hands clenched at his sides.
“Father,” Bale said carefully. “This is Aiden’s life. His decision.”
The room went still.
Their mother turned on him sharply.
“You would defend this?” she asked. “You too are under her influence.”
Bale shook his head. “I just… I believe he should be allowed to choose.”
The man’s expression hardened.
“If you choose her,” he said to Aiden, his voice dangerously calm, “you will be stripped of your right to become Alpha. You will be cast out. You will have nothing.”
Aiden tightened his grip on my mother’s hand.
Then he smiled.
Not softly.
Not kindly.
But with absolute certainty.
“I will gladly leave,” he said.
The words rang through the chamber like a verdict.
Gasps erupted.
The woman collapsed into a chair, sobbing.
The man stared at his son as though seeing him for the first time.
Aiden didn’t wait.
He turned, guiding my mother toward the door.
As they crossed the threshold, something strange happened.
The world slowed.
Then stopped.
The flickering light froze mid-dance. The air became heavy, unmoving. Every figure in the room locked in place, faces frozen in expressions of shock, rage, or despair.
Except her.
My mother stopped walking.
Slowly, deliberately, she turned.
Her eyes met mine.
The force of it stole my breath.
She could see me.
My heart slammed violently against my ribs.
“Mum?” I whispered.
She stepped closer, the rest of the world still frozen behind her. Her expression softened in a way that made my chest ache.
“Jasmine,” she said in a state of shock.