Torn Between Destinies-Chapter 38 - Thirty Eight

The moon was silver tonight.

Not just in color—but in feeling. It shimmered high above the trees like a quiet guardian, watching us from the sky. There was no wind. No threat. Just the kind of stillness that only came when everything finally felt right.

I stood at the center of the clearing, barefoot in the grass. Darius stood beside me, strong and calm, holding Erya in his arms. Her tiny eyes blinked slowly, caught in the glow of the moonlight, and I smiled down at her.

This was the moment we had waited for.

The others formed a small circle around us. Tahlia. Malen. Dara. Lenn. Risa. Only a handful, but enough. All of them had followed us into the unknown. All had given up the comfort of the old pack to build something new.

We weren’t just survivors anymore. We were something else.

And it was time we gave that something a name.

Darius’s hand brushed against mine. "Ready?" he asked, his voice low.

I nodded. "Ready."

He stepped forward, facing the group. The moonlight glinted off his dark hair, giving him an almost ethereal look. He looked less like an Alpha tonight and more like a man reborn.

"We left our old lives behind because we believed in something better," he began, his voice steady. "Not easier. Not safer. But more honest. We came here not to lead, but to live. Not to fight, but to heal."

Tahlia nodded, eyes bright.

Darius continued. "Tonight, we stop being a group of runaways. Tonight, we stop being nameless."

He turned to me, giving a small nod. My heart thudded in my chest as I stepped forward to speak.

"We came to a place untouched by politics. Untouched by the poison of power," I said. "This land—Eryalis—is our home now. But a home is not enough. We need to stand for something. To carry a name that reminds us why we chose to begin again."

I turned, looking each one of them in the eye.

Risa, who had lost her mate in the chaos back home.

Malen, who had once believed loyalty meant silence.

Dara, the youngest, who had seen too much but still chose hope.

"We are few," I said, "but we are not weak. We are quiet, but we are not blind. We are scarred, but we are not broken."

They were listening. Really listening.

I felt the words rise in me—not planned, not practiced. Just truth.

"We have strength," I said, "but it’s not the kind that crushes. It’s the kind that bends and doesn’t break. The kind that listens before it roars."

The silver moonlight spilled across the clearing.

And then I said it.

"Silverglen."

The word came out like a breath. A wish.

"Silverglen," I repeated, louder. "That’s our name."

Silence fell for a moment.

Then Tahlia spoke first. "It sounds right."

"Like a secret strength," Malen added. "Something hidden in the quiet places."

"Something that can’t be taken," Dara whispered.

Darius smiled. "Then it’s settled."

He turned in a slow circle, holding Erya up so everyone could see her. "We, the first of Silverglen, vow to protect this land and each other. Not as rulers. Not as conquerors. But as a family."

A low hum rose in my chest, part emotion, part instinct. A howl—quiet, rising.

I let it out.

A soft, steady note that trembled with everything I’d carried and everything I’d let go.

One by one, the others joined me. Our voices rose together, weaving through the trees, carried by the silver night sky.

Not a song of war. Not a cry of pain.

But of becoming.

Of choosing to be something new.

When the howling died down, Darius lowered Erya into my arms. Her eyes were closed now, her breathing soft and peaceful.

"She’ll grow up in a better world," I said quietly.

"She already is," he replied, brushing a curl from my face.

We stayed in the clearing a while longer, no one rushing to leave. There was a calm between us, a bond that didn’t need words. Each person moved closer to the center, until we were standing shoulder to shoulder, forming the heart of something new.

Tahlia stepped forward and placed her hand on the ground.

"For Silverglen," she said.

Malen knelt beside her. "For peace."

Dara pressed her palm against the earth. "For second chances."

I bent down too, cradling Erya with one arm and pressing my other hand into the soft grass.

"For her," I said. "And for every life we choose to protect."

Darius joined us, resting his hand beside mine.

"For love," he said.

And in that small, quiet act, we sealed it.

The birth of our pack.

Not in blood.

But in hope.

We didn’t howl again.

We didn’t raise banners or light fires.

We simply sat together under the silver moon, breathing the same air, wrapped in the same dream.

Silverglen.

A name that felt like healing. Like strength grown in secret.

When we finally returned to our tents, the stars were high and bright. Erya slept soundly against my chest. Darius reached for my hand, and I took it.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I am now," I said.

And I meant it.

---

**The Next Morning**

Sunlight filtered through the leaves, painting golden patches across our little camp. The birds were loud today, as if celebrating with us. I stepped out of the tent with Erya still asleep in her sling, breathing in the scent of morning dew.

Tahlia was already up, gathering wild herbs with Risa. Malen was reinforcing the edge of the clearing with wooden stakes. Dara was sketching something into the dirt—a symbol she said might one day become our mark.

Everything felt like a beginning.

But not the kind that starts with fire and fear.

The kind that starts with warmth.

With planting.

With choosing who you are instead of who others said you had to be.

Later that day, we carved the name into stone.

Just outside the clearing, beneath a tall silver-barked tree, Darius and I etched the word "Silverglen" into a flat rock with simple tools.

It wasn’t fancy.

It wasn’t grand.

But it was ours.

We placed the stone upright and stood before it, Erya nestled in Darius’s arms. Tahlia brought a small bowl of water and set it at the base. Dara added a ring of fresh flowers around the stone. Malen pressed his forehead to it for a brief moment, eyes closed.

I knelt and whispered, "Grow strong."

And with that, we had not only named the pack—we had begun it.

---

**That Night**

The moon rose again, though this time, it was soft and quiet.

I sat by the fire, watching the flames curl upward. Darius sat beside me, his arm resting behind me, our daughter asleep between us.

"Think we’ll make it?" I asked.

He looked at me, eyes full of that gentle fire. "We already are."

We fell into a quiet silence, the kind that doesn’t feel heavy. The kind that says everything is finally okay.

Behind us, laughter echoed from the tents. Someone was cooking. Someone else was humming. The life we dreamed about—messy, simple, free—was happening.

And in the middle of it all, a new name whispered through the trees.

Silverglen.

A pack built not on power, but on choice.

Not on fear, but on trust.

Not on rage, but on rebirth.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, I believed we would be okay.

We were more than wolves now.

We were Silverglen.