The Demon Goddess He Betrayed A Heart's Final Sacrifice

When I returned to the pack from my travels, all I found of my master was a heap of ruined flesh.

Every bone in his body was gone. His Wolf Core, ripped clean from his chest. My senior pack brothers and sisters were nowhere to be found.

Matron Thornwell sat before his corpse, her aged voice calling out to me.

"Lynara, your master traded his life for every ranked wolf's ascension to Celestial status. You should go report to the Sovereign Grounds too."

Only then did I learn the truth. Fenris Voss, Supreme Alpha of the Realm Council, ruler of all Three Territories, had needed a Wolf Core to graft a werewolf physiology onto his mortal mate. He'd chosen my master. The one with the strongest spiritual affinity. A Moonheart Core, the rarest kind in existence.

In exchange for allowing every ranked wolf of the Dawnveil Pack to receive Celestial Rank, he had ripped every bone and sinew from my master's body and torn the Wolf Core from his living chest.

I've had a flaw for as long as I can remember. I don't cry. I don't laugh. The whole pack called me cold-blooded.

Now, staring at the mangled remains of the man who had saved my life and raised me as his own pup, I was still calm. Somewhere deep below my ribs, in the hollow space where my wolf usually stirred, there was only silence. Not grief. Not rage. Just silence, vast and flat and wrong.

"Matron, did Master agree to this willingly?"

Her eyes reddened instantly.

"Fenris Voss is the last Primordial Alpha in existence. What he says goes. We never had a choice."

I gave a quiet "oh."

"If Master didn't agree to it willingly, then Fenris Voss deserves to die."

The Matron seized my arm, her voice tight with worry. "Lynara, before your master drew his last breath, he told all of you to take care of yourselves. Don't throw your life away picking a fight with a Primordial Alpha."

I pulled my wrist free, lifted my gaze toward the Sovereign Grounds far above the mountain line, and smiled faintly.

"Matron, Master said not to fight a Primordial Alpha. He never said anything about killing one."

I turned and walked back to my courtyard. Without a word, I dropped to my knees and began digging through the soil beneath the spirit-blossom tree with my bare hands. The earth was cold. It smelled of mountain sage and old pine, and something underneath that, something that smelled like safety itself. My master's scent, soaked into the roots.

Before long, a short blade caked in dirt saw daylight again. The air around it held no scent at all. A void where scent should be, unsettling in a way that made the Matron flinch back before she caught herself.

She rushed after me and snatched the blade from my grip, tears brimming in her eyes.

"Lynara, I know you want to avenge your master."

"But Fenris Voss is a Primordial Alpha. With this unremarkable little blade, you cannot defeat him."

"Please don't throw your life away for nothing."

"Your master said it himself. Trading one life for the future of every ranked wolf in the pack was worth it."

But I knew Master was lying.

One look at the wreckage strewn across the Dawnveil territory told the whole story. The moment Fenris Voss killed him, every last pack member had followed the Supreme Alpha away without hesitation. Their scent trails led outward, all of them, not a single one circling back.

Not a single one stayed behind to bury him.

For a pack of wolves that heartless, did Master truly believe it was worth it?

Faced with my silence, the Matron's eyes grew redder still.

But she was terrified I would do something reckless, so she swallowed her own tears and forced a smile. I could smell the salt on her, dried lavender and hearth-smoke and beneath it all, the faint undercurrent of tears that never fully dried.

"Lynara, you came back, didn't you? As long as you remember your master, that's enough."

Desperate to smother the hatred in my heart, she hurried into the kitchen and brought out a pot still faintly warm with steam.

"Lynara, our Dawnveil Pack is small. We don't have the power. Let's not talk about revenge."

"Look. Your master stewed this pigeon soup for you right before he died."

"He said you must have suffered on the road. You were already too thin, he said. You needed to eat properly."

I reached out and touched the dried blood crusted on the side of the pot. My face showed nothing. "Was Master making me soup when he died?"

The Matron's hands trembled. Her voice cracked further.

"Yes. He was watching the pot. He was afraid it would turn bitter if it stewed too long."

"He said you hate anything sour or bitter."

I thought to myself, that foolish old man. He died without ever realizing I'd been lying to him.

I never actually minded sour or bitter things.

I just hated taking medicine.

When Master first found me, I was badly wounded. A two-year-old pup, half-shifted and covered in wounds that smelled of something ancient. My health never fully recovered after that, and I needed wolfsbane tonics constantly just to stay alive.

It drove me mad. Every now and then I'd dump the doses in secret.

When Master caught on, he bought sour jujubes to coax me, saying that if I ate one first, the medicine wouldn't taste so bitter.

I didn't want to cooperate, so I told him offhandedly that I didn't like anything sour or bitter.

Even though I could never win against Master's relentless coaxing, I still obediently took my medicine for six years. But he kept those words of mine close to his heart.

After I recovered, nothing sour or bitter ever appeared on my dinner table again.

I took the pot from Matron Thornwell's hands and, as if I couldn't feel the scalding heat, drank half the soup in one long gulp.

The remaining half I poured out beside Master's body.

I wiped my mouth. "Not bad, old man. But the blood mixed in makes it a little fishy."

"Have a taste yourself. Pay attention next time you make it."

That was what finally shattered Matron Thornwell's composure.

The tears she had held back for so long broke free all at once.

"Lynara, there won't be a next time. Your master is dead!"

Oh, right. There wouldn't be a next time.

Fine. Since Master couldn't look after me anymore, it was my turn to protect him for once.

I unfastened the cloak Master had sewn for me with his own hands and draped it over his body. My voice was calm. "Matron, watch over Master. Don't bury him."

"He'd be too lonely by himself. I'll find him some company for the grave."

Matron Thornwell couldn't stop me. All she could do was weep and beg me to come back alive. Somewhere beneath her words, I caught the salt-and-lavender scent of her grief thickening until it was almost unbearable, the hearth-smoke in it gone cold.

I carried my short sword and walked toward the Sovereign Grounds.

The stone path crumbled to dust behind me, and the whole mountain territory shook to its foundations. Every wolf within a mile radius felt it in their bones, a tremor that had nothing to do with the earth and everything to do with something old waking up.

Celestial-ranked soldiers rushed forward, blocking me outside the Gates of the Sovereign Grounds.

The one leading them was none other than my senior packmate from the Dawnveil Pack, Master's proudest wolf: Edwin Greymane.

He stared at me in surprise, brow furrowed. His scent hit me before his words did, that familiar damp parchment and tarnished copper, soured now with something I hadn't smelled on him before. Ambition, maybe. Or cowardice dressed up as pragmatism. "Lynara, if you've come to seek the Supreme Alpha's favor, you should keep your head down and your voice low."

"What's the point of making such a scene?"

I didn't bother looking at him. My eyes stayed fixed on the Gates. "Tell Fenris Voss to come out."

"Tell him an old friend has come to visit."

Edwin let out a weary sigh.

"Lynara, have you lost your mind?"

"We're mere low-born wolves. If not for this stroke of fortune, how could we ever have received Celestial Rank and stood before the Supreme Alpha?"

"'An old friend.' You're not embarrassed to say that out loud?"

Only then did I turn to look at Edwin, each word falling like a stone. "You call Master's death a stroke of fortune?"

Edwin faltered. A flicker of guilt surfaced in his eyes. His wolf dropped its gaze for half a breath before he forced it back up.

Rosalind Ashcroft, the second-ranked wolf, had just arrived. I smelled her before I saw her, that overripe berry sharpness cutting through the mountain air. She rushed to Edwin's defense the moment she saw his expression.

"Lynara, how dare you speak to Edwin that way?"

"Master's death wasn't our doing."

"If you want to blame someone, blame Master for being born with a Moonheart Core. We simply seized the opportunity that presented itself."

Looking at Rosalind's face, utterly devoid of remorse, all I felt was that Master had never been worth the love he gave them.

Edwin and Rosalind were the first wolves Master ever took into the pack.

He treated them no differently than he treated me.

He poured every ounce of his heart into raising them, even putting off having pups of his own.

That was why, after all those years, Master and Matron Thornwell never had a pup by blood.

Matron Thornwell would grumble about it from time to time, but that foolish old man would just laugh and wave it off. "It's fine. I trust my pack. When the day comes, they'll see us properly buried."

He was wrong, in the end.

But I knew that foolish old man.

He believed, to his last breath, that people were born good. Whenever his wolves made mistakes, he always gave them a chance to make things right.

I never agreed with that. But I didn't want him to die with his eyes open, restless and unsettled.

So I did what Master would have done. I gave Edwin and Rosalind one chance.

"I'll handle avenging Master myself. I don't need your help."

"Go back to the Dawnveil Pack now. Stay with Master and Matron Thornwell."

"Carry on Master's legacy. Make the pack flourish."

Rosalind had been spoiled rotten by Master since she was a pup, and her temper was as foul as they came.

The second she caught the commanding tone in my voice, her face soured. Something in my chest stirred, low and quiet, and I felt the air between us tighten. Rosalind's nostrils flared. She didn't understand what she was sensing, but her body did. Her shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch before she caught herself and stiffened again.

She shoved me, her voice shaking with fury. "Lynara, who do you think you are?"

"How dare you speak to your senior brother and sister like that?!"

Edwin stepped between us, his expression the picture of composed reason. "Lynara, don't be rash."

"The Dawnveil Pack was always a small, unremarkable pack. Master spent his entire life trying to make it flourish and never could. What chance would we have?"

"Besides, all of us have received our Celestial Rank now. Isn't that a glory the pack can be proud of?"

He reached out and took hold of my arm.

"Come now, be good. I'll take you to see the Supreme Alpha. I'll make sure you get a fine rank..."

But before the last word left his mouth, my short blade was already buried in his chest.

Edwin never even had time to react. He crumpled to the ground, eyes wide and glassy, dead before he hit the stone. The scent of damp parchment and tarnished copper flooded the air, sharp and sudden, the way a wolf's scent always surges at the moment of death.

Every Sovereign Guard in the vicinity went rigid with shock. Weapons sang free of their sheaths, all pointed at me.

Rosalind stumbled back two steps, her face white. "Lynara, what kind of cursed thing are you holding?!"

She asked because Edwin had already received his Celestial Rank. The power of his Wolf Core shielded his body.

An ordinary weapon couldn't have come within a foot of him.

So in her mind, my blade had to be something unholy.

I raised the short blade, letting the light catch its edge. My voice was flat and cold. "Cursed? No wolf of the Abyss is worthy of wielding this."

"But you'll find out what it is soon enough."

I crouched beside Edwin's body and used the blade to carve out his heart.

"Since our dear First Beta had no heart to speak of, his heart's blood might as well serve a better purpose. A blood offering for my spirit wolf."

"Lynara, you vicious monster!"

Rosalind's eyes went red with rage. She called on her wolf's power and lunged at me.

But at the critical moment, a Sovereign Guard beside her seized her arm and hauled her back, his hand trembling as he pointed at the spectral shape coalescing above Edwin's corpse. A translucent wolf, black as the space between stars, lapping at the blood with a tongue made of violet fire.

"Lady Rosalind, look. Your junior sister's spirit wolf... something's wrong with it. It's drinking the blood on its own."

Rosalind didn't care. She scoffed. "Cursed relics never play by the rules. What's so strange about that?"

The soldier shook his head frantically. "No, you don't understand. You've only just ascended to Celestial Rank."

"In all the millennia since creation, there has only ever been one spirit wolf that craves the heart's blood of powerful wolves..."

Rosalind blinked, clueless. "What spirit wolf?"

The soldier's lips trembled around two words: "Soulreaper."

Rosalind's jaw dropped. The color drained from her face.

But before she could gather her wits, a voice split the air from the void above, heavy with authority that needed no anger to terrify. An Alpha aura descended with it, thick and suffocating, pressing against every wolf present like a hand on the back of the neck.

"Silence!"

"I destroyed that Primordial She-Wolf with my own hands. Soulreaper was shattered by my power. It no longer exists."

"You will not spread such baseless fear!"

I knew that voice. I knew it the way you know the sound of your own heartbeat. Fenris Voss. My enemy for as long as I had drawn breath.

And the one who had wounded me deepest of all.

My wolf, buried deep where I kept her still and silent, stirred at the sound. Not with fear. With something older than fear. Something that had no name except the taste of ash on the back of my tongue.

He was right about one thing. I was the Primordial She-Wolf he claimed to have destroyed.

I was also the only other true Primordial Alpha who had escaped the Abyssal Wilds alongside him, the only one who had survived the cataclysm.

The year the Wilds were annihilated, the two of us had nowhere left to go. We set aside our enmity out of necessity, clinging to each other to survive.

For thousands of years after that, Fenris treated me well.

Primordial wolves are born cold-blooded. He was the one who taught me how to cry and how to laugh.

Under his guidance, I slowly learned to live in the world beyond the Wilds.

So when he told me he wanted to take me to the Sovereign Grounds, that he would look after me for the rest of my life, I agreed without a second thought.

Three thousand years as mates. Every one of them devoted. Every one of them tender.

Until Fenris met a mortal woman, and everything veered off course.

That woman was Elara, the one he now called his mate.

Elara was flesh and bone, purely human. She could not set foot in the Sovereign Grounds. The only way was to replace the mortal essence inside her body with a Wolf Core and Abyssal power, or with the strength of a Primordial bloodline.

Fenris searched every corner of the Sovereign Grounds and found no justification to take what he needed from anyone else.

So he turned his attention to me.

He deliberately led the other packs to discover my true nature as a Primordial Wolf, then rallied all Three Territories under the banner of righteousness to bind me with silver chains soaked in wolfsbane.

I was already carrying his pup by then. My powers had waned, and I had no strength left to fight back.

I begged him to spare me. Begged until my voice broke. But all he left me with was a single, weightless phrase: The Abyssal bloodline cannot be allowed to exist. Then he ripped the Abyssal essence from my body and shattered my soul into nothing.

Even Soulreaper was ground to dust beneath his heel.

It was the pup in my womb who saved me.

He sacrificed his own life to lock my three ethereal souls and seven corporeal spirits together before they could scatter.

After a long silence, I reformed into a physical body, but only that of a two-year-old pup, barely able to hold a half-shift.

My heart was full of hatred. I knew I was no match for Fenris, yet I still set out on the road to the Sovereign Grounds to take my revenge.

But my bones had barely knit and my Abyssal essence had yet to coalesce. I couldn't even defeat a rogue wolf at the edge of pack territory.

Just as a feral beast was about to swallow me whole, a pair of large hands scooped me into a warm embrace.

The old wolf whose eyes already creased with wrinkles looked down at me, heartache plain on his face. His scent washed over me: mountain sage and old pine and the clean cold of high-altitude air after rain. It smelled like safety itself. "How's a little thing like you out here all alone with nobody looking after you?"

"Don't be scared, sweetheart. This old wolf will keep you safe."

I assumed his kindness was a passing impulse. I never imagined he would go on protecting me for years.

The year I pieced Soulreaper back together, I was nine.

I planned to make one last trip to the Sovereign Grounds and drag Fenris down with me, even if it killed us both.

But the night before I meant to leave, my master brought me a beggar's chicken. It wasn't particularly good.

He had no idea I was planning to go. He just scratched the back of his head, embarrassed, and said, "Lynara, you haven't been eating well lately. You're getting too thin. I went all the way down the mountain to learn this recipe from a famous cook in the valley."

"Go on, try it. If it's no good, I'll go back and learn again."

"And if you like it, I'll make it for you every single day."

I blinked, caught off guard. Suspicion crept in before I could stop it. "Why are you so good to me?"

My master stroked his beard and smiled. "Because I think of you as my own daughter."

"If my little girl starved, what kind of father would I be? I'd be heartbroken."

"I'm already old. I don't want to spend whatever years I have left crying my eyes out."

In that moment, looking at the white hairs that had grown in from worrying over me, I felt the walls around my heart crack for the first time in years. Somewhere deep inside, my wolf, which had been silent and feral since the day I was reborn, lowered its head and let out a sound that was almost a whimper.

So there was someone in this world who loved me after all.

All at once, I didn't want revenge anymore.

I buried Soulreaper beneath the hibiscus tree and buried all my hatred along with it.

But Fenris shattered my hard-won peace with his own hands, all over again, and dug my hatred back up from the roots.

I lifted my gaze toward the sky where his voice had come from and spoke, each word deliberate and distinct. "Fenris. It's been a long time."

Before the last syllable faded, a flash of white light split the air.

In the space of a blink, Fenris appeared before me with Elara Ashford in his arms. His scent hit me first: sunlit marble and white cedar and something sterile beneath it, like snow over a battlefield. Three thousand years, and it still smelled the same. My wolf recoiled.

He looked exactly the same as before. That face, beautiful enough to ruin kingdoms, hadn't aged a single day.

The woman cradled against him glowed with the same vitality. But her scent was wrong. Chamomile and clean linen and warm milk, the purely human smell of her, overlaid with a thin, artificial veneer of violet and cold stone that didn't belong to her. It smelled borrowed. It smelled like something stolen.

Fenris looked me up and down, his brow furrowing. "This Supreme Alpha has never laid eyes on you. What do you mean, 'a long time'?"

Oh. I had almost forgotten. After my body reformed, my appearance had changed completely.

No wonder he didn't recognize me.

But my attention wasn't on him. Every ounce of it was fixed on Elara, and I had no patience to spare for Fenris.

I stared at Elara, unblinking. "You're looking well. Rosy cheeks, bright eyes. My master's Wolf Core must be serving you nicely."

Back then, my Abyssal essence had only granted Elara passage in and out of the Sovereign Grounds. Without a Wolf Core, she still could not receive a Celestial Rank.

Fenris had once considered taking my Primordial Wolf Core instead, but the core of an ancient Primordial Alpha was far more than a mortal body like Elara's could withstand. He'd been forced to abandon the idea.

It had taken him all these years of searching to finally find my master's Wolf Core, the perfect match for Elara.

My words landed, and understanding dawned across Fenris's face.

"Ah, so it's the Dawnveil Alpha's little pup. I was wondering who dared."

"I understand you're grieving, but there's no need to forge a false spirit wolf and impersonate the Primordial She-Wolf just to cause a scene."

He waved his hand with casual dismissal, his tone edged with impatience. "Enough. Considering your filial devotion, I'll let today's antics slide."

"Dismiss that fake spirit wolf of yours into the Soulfire Pit."

"Then go find Lord Yunhe at the Sovereign Grounds, pick whatever celestial rank catches your fancy, and stay out of trouble from now on."

With that, Fenris wrapped his arm around Elara's shoulders and turned to leave.

I reached out and locked my fingers around Elara's wrist. My voice was ice. "What's the rush?"

"I don't want your celestial rank. I want you to return my master's Wolf Core."

"Then come back with me and keep him company in his grave."

Both Fenris and Elara froze.

Rosalind was the first to recover.

Eager to prove herself, she charged over and slapped me across the face, snarling, "Lynara, you ungrateful wretch!"

"The Supreme Alpha lets you off and you push your luck?!"

"Apologize to the Supreme Alpha and his mate this instant, or I'll deal with you myself!"

I looked at Rosalind, cold and unblinking, and let my voice drop lower.

"Senior packmate. Everyone who has ever laid a hand on me is dead. My mate is the only exception."

Rosalind's brow furrowed. She spat, "Lynara, have you lost your mind?"

"You've never even been bonded. Where did this 'mate' come from?"

"That's enough. Apologize now and stop this lunatic act!"

But before the last word left her lips, Rosalind crumpled to the ground like a rag doll. The bones in all four of her limbs snapped at once, twisting her arms and legs at grotesque angles. The scent of overripe berries and hot brass flooded sour with pain.

She stared up at me in horror. "Lynara, what kind of dark power is this?"

"Let me go! You're killing a ranked wolf in front of the Supreme Alpha himself. Do you have a death wish?!"

I didn't spare her another glance. My grip tightened on Elara's wrist, and my voice stayed flat. "Are you going to tear the Wolf Core out yourself and hand it over, or do you need me to do it for you?"

Elara's face went white as parchment. She turned instinctively to Fenris for help. The thin, borrowed scent of violet and cold stone on her skin curdled with fear beneath my fingers.

Only then did Fenris snap out of his stupor.

His expression hardened. Killing intent flooded his gaze. The air around him thickened, that cold iron undercurrent in his scent bleeding through the white cedar and sunlit marble until every wolf present felt the pressure settle against their chests like a hand pressing down.

"Girl. Crippling someone without lifting a finger. Your dominance is impressive, I'll grant you that."

"But no matter how convincing the act, you are not the Primordial She-Wolf."

"You don't have the power to face me."

"So I'll give you two choices. End your own life, or wait for me to scatter your soul into oblivion."

I looked at Fenris with something close to pity, and let every syllable land.

"Mate. You've already scattered my soul once."

"Do you really think it would work a second time?"