Inside Luna was just like her mother…

Dramatic in her internal reactions to everything. Intense in ways that would terrify people if they knew how much she felt. Thinking in declarations and exaggerations that would have made Lykea proud if she'd been alive to see them.

Only nobody knew because Luna had learned to hide it all too well.

Nobody except her shadow wolf who'd seen her cry in the darkness more times than could be counted, who'd witnessed breakdowns she'd never allow another living being to see.

But the wolf didn't count because it was part of her, an extension of her shadow rather than a separate witness to her weakness.

And it hadn't been there for her earliest years when the intensity had been the purest and most uncontrolled.

At seven, all the passion had been concentrated into a grief so pure it felt like drowning.

'Mom is gone… Mom isn't coming back. The world is horrible and dark and will never be good again.'

The thoughts had circled constantly waiting to consume her if she stopped moving.

The letters had helped a little, just enough to keep her functional. Reading them over and over until she'd memorized every word, hearing her mother's voice in her head saying each exaggerated compliment with her characteristic enthusiasm.

"My perfect little star, my invaluable treasure, my reason for existing..."

But letters didn't hug back no matter how tightly you held them. They didn't kiss your forehead or stroke your hair.

At eight, the grief had mixed with confusion that made everything worse because she couldn't understand or process it properly.

'Why did they take her from me? Did I do something wrong? Could I have saved her if I'd been stronger?'

Questions without answers that haunted her anyway. Guilt that had no logical foundation but existed with crushing weight regardless of rationality. Wondering if seven-year-old could have prevented tragedy if she'd only been better somehow.

And everyone kept telling her how well she was handling it, how reserved and mature she was being. Compliments that felt like accusations because they were so fundamentally wrong about what was happening inside her.

'I'M NOT HANDLING IT! I'M DYING INSIDE! I WANT TO SCREAM!

But nobody saw through the mask she'd already learned to wear with disturbing proficiency.

Because Luna was very good at pretending, had learned from nobles who pretended everything all the time and made it look effortless.

At nine years old, something had changed that would define who she became.

Sirius had told her they needed to recover the faction on their side, he had said: "for your mother".

Luna had woken the next morning feeling... different, in a way she couldn't quite articulate.

Still sad, grief hadn't magically vanished overnight. Still broken, the pieces hadn't reassembled themselves while she slept. But still something new had emerged from the ashes.

Fury that burned hotter than the sun.

'If I'm the most unlucky girl in the entire world. If I lost my mother. If I lost my faction. If I lost the life I was supposed to have. IF EVERYTHING IS UNFAIR AND HORRIBLE AND I HATE EVERY PART OF THIS!'

In the middle of the fury, a thought had arrived like lightning cutting through the storm clouds.

'Being angry without doing anything is STUPID. If I hate this so much... if it hurts this badly... Then I have to CHANGE SOMETHING!'

And so the intensity had changed direction like a river finding a new course. From pure grief to furious determination that demanded action.

Luna was going to become strong enough that nobody could take anything else from her. She was going to recover what had been lost through politics and betrayal with her strength. She was going to make everything worth something somehow even if the cost was everything she had left to give.

'FOR MOM.'

Her father had said just that... "We need to recover the faction, Luna. For your mother."

Luna hadn't been completely certain what "for your mother" meant in practical terms beyond the emotional appeal. Was it her mother's wish expressed before her death? Something Lykea would have wanted if she'd survived? A way to honor her memory by achieving what she'd valued?

Sirius probably had more complex reasons hidden beneath the simple statement. Plans about recovering control of the Starweaver ruins that had claimed his wife. Using the manpower of the reunified faction to overcome whatever waited behind the sealed door that needed three cores to open.

But he was waiting for Luna to grow older and stronger before explaining all those details that involved politics and power she wasn't ready to navigate.

Yet it didn't matter to nine-year-old Luna what the complete plan entailed.

She didn't need to understand every detail of a strategy she was too young to execute anyway.

If it was "for Mom," then she'd do it with every bit of intensity she possessed, with the same overwhelming commitment Lykea had brought to everything she loved.

She would recover the Starweavers who'd abandoned her father after the tragedy. She would become strong enough to matter in noble games. She would win because losing meant her mother losing.

BECAUSE I'M LYKEA STARWEAVER'S DAUGHTER!

The beast ceremony had arrived at the year's beginning when she turned ten like all the other children near her age, a moment that would define her future as tamer and noble.

Luna had been prepared for worst-case scenario because her father had explained what to expect. She'd have a black egg, not a custom celestial tiger like traditional Starweaver leaders whose white beasts symbolized their authority.

Black eggs produced good beasts anyway, he'd assured her, like his shadow serpent, like the shadow wolf she would obtain.

Sirius knew for himself it would be the wolf based on the ruin rewards, that egg he'd claimed and hidden in his small dimensional space.

And Luna had accepted that reality even though it hurt not having the same beast as her mother, understanding her father wanted to protect her, not giving her the power that would draw the wrong kind of attention from uncles who'd already proven untrustworthy.

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