Chapter17
Clara’s POV
Three months later, my wolf hadn’t just recovered; it had been reborn stronger than ever.
The ancient Moonlight bloodline, after being suppressed and reborn, had erupted with unprecedented power.
I could now easily manipulate psychic energy and could even sense the emotions of other werewolves miles away.
“Clara’s progress is astonishing,” my grandfather said with satisfaction at a family dinner. “To reach this level in just three months… she is truly the heir of the Moonlight bloodline.”
“She’s always been talented,” Asher smiled gently.
His face was still a bit pale, but he looked much better than before. “When we were pups, her training progress was always faster than everyone else’s.”
“Speaking of when you were pups…” my grandfather looked at us thoughtfully. “Do you two remember the promise you made to each other?”
“What promise?” I asked, curious.
“When you were five, Asher’s father and I brokered a potential mating alliance,” my grandfather’s eyes twinkled with memory. “You two little ones were in the garden, pinky–swearing that you’d be together forever.”
My face flushed.
“Grandfather…” I protested. “We were just kids…”
“A pup’s promise is often the most sincere,” Asher looked at me, a deep meaning in his eyes. “Clara, do you remember that pinky–swear?”
Of course I remembered.
Five–year–old me and seven–year–old Asher in the Moonlight Garden, vowing in our childish voices to be “together forever.”
We were so innocent then, thinking forever was forever.
“I… I’m going to get some air on the balcony,” I stood up quickly, escaping the topic.
On the balcony, I tried to calm my racing heart.
Three years in a torturous mate bond had left me terrified of the very idea of a relationship.
Even with someone as gentle and dependable as Asher, I didn’t dare open my heart so easily.
“Clara?” Asher followed me out. “Are you alright?”
“I’m trying to communicate with my wolf,” I said without turning around. “But… there seems to be a block.”
It was true. Although my power had returned, three years of isolation had created a psychological barrier between me and my wolf. Whenever I tried to merge deeply, the painful memories would resurface.
“Let me help,” Asher came up behind me. “Close your eyes and reach for my wolf with yours.”
He placed his hands on my shoulders, and a gentle, silver energy enveloped me.
“Don’t be afraid,” his voice was as soft as moonlight. “Your wolf is beautiful, powerful, and deserving of love. The ones who hurt her have already paid the price.”
Under his guidance, I felt the true form of my wolf.
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Chapter17
It was no longer the whimpering, dying pup being tortured by Silver Dust.
It was an elegant and powerful moon wolf, radiatin
a pure, silver light.
“See?” Asher’s wolf gently nuzzled mine, like two wolves sharing a tender moment in the moonlight. “She was never broken. Only dormant, waiting for the right moment to reawaken.”
I opened my eyes, tears welling up.
“Thank you, Asher.”
“Don’t thank me,” he said gently. “This is the power you always had.”
With my strength returned, I began creating my psychic art again.
It was my greatest passion and my way of expressing my inner world.
I created an anonymous account on the wolf art platform “MoonCanvas” and started sharing my work.
The paintings were full of intense emotion: mourning for past pain, hope for the future, and the joy of reawakening.
To my surprise, my work quickly gained a following.
[These paintings are so powerful!]
[The artist must have gone through so much pain…]
[But the latest pieces feel so hopeful. They’re really healing.]
[Can I buy the original?]
I was replying to comments when I received a private message.
The sender’s username was “K.”
[Hello, I was deeply moved by your paintings. They remind me of someone… someone I’ve lost forever.]
Curious, I replied: [What kind of person?]
[My mate. She loved art, too. Always said it was the language of the soul.]
[Past tense?]
[She’s gone. And it’s my fault. My stupidity, my betrayal…] The words were steeped in a pain so raw I could feel it bleeding
through the screen.
My heart began to race.
This description… it reminded me of someone.
[What was her name?] I typed, my heart hammering against my ribs.
There was a long silence before he sent a reply:
[My mate was so gentle… She had a beautiful name. It was Clara.]
The moment I saw that name, my hands began to tremble.
Clara.
He was talking about me.
This “K” had to be Kael.
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+25 BONUS
My ex–mate, the one who had hurt me for three years.
[Are you still there?] he sent another message. (I’m sorry if my words made you uncomfortable. I just… seeing your paintings, it feels like she’s still here.]
I took a deep breath and quickly hit the block button.
No matter how much regret or pain he felt now, it had nothing to do with me.
Clara was dead.
The Clara who loved you died in that river.
