The First Night

The inside of the Crimson Blood fortress was colder than Anana expected. Not physically but the walls were lined with braziers that bathed the corridors in a steady, golden light but in spirit. The air felt tight, like it didn’t belong to her. Like it had already been claimed by someone or something else.

Lucien’s hand released hers once they stepped past the towering entrance. She could feel the burn of his skin on hers even after it was gone, a reminder that he wasn’t just a monster in legend. He was real. And now, he was her reality.

Two women in black uniforms stepped forward. They were taller than any average woman. 

They wore simple crimson-threaded collars that pulsed faintly with a midnight black armoured bralette giving a subtle lift revealing their well defined muscular arms. 

They wore high-waisted trousers that snug around the hips and thighs showcasing their curves with well defined abs. Each had a war scar they wore proudly.

“This is Ira and Vex,” Lucien said without looking at them. “They’ll show you to your room.”

Your room. Not a cell. Not a dungeon. That surprised her.

Lucien turned to leave without another word. Anana opened her mouth to speak but stopped herself. What would she even say?

“Follow us,” said one of the females, Ira, with a voice like broken glass.

They walked in silence through dim, echoing halls. Anana’s eyes wandered past statues that bled shadows, paintings that seemed to move if she stared for too long, and doors lined with glyphs that buzzed faintly in her bones. 

This place was not just stone and command. It was ancient magic and something far older than any pack she’d ever known.

When they reached a tall, arched door carved from black wood, Vex pushed it open without ceremony.

Anana stepped inside.

And froze.

The room was... beautiful.

Not in a lavish way. It wasn’t gold and velvet. It was midnight stone walls, a carved bed layered with deep red sheets, a hearth that crackled with warm firelight. 

There was a wardrobe, a simple writing desk, and a full-length mirror framed in twisted silver and gold vines. Everything was functional, but chosen carefully.

It was too much for a prisoner.

Ira watched her reaction with a flicker of amusement. “You were expecting chains, weren’t you?”

“I was expecting a floor,” Anana said quietly.

Vex chuckled. “You’ll learn. The God of War breaks people differently.”

The door closed behind them, and Anana was alone.

…

She didn’t unpack.

Instead, she stood in the center of the room and just... breathed. Let her thoughts catch up. Let her heart stop racing. Let herself remember who she was.

She wasn’t Kade’s Luna anymore.

She wasn’t anyone’s anything.

And yet... somehow, she still existed.

Eventually, hunger pulled her from the haze. There was no food in the room, but on cue, a knock echoed from the door. She opened it to only find a tray set on the floor covered in steam, untouched.

No one was in sight.

She brought it inside and closed the door again. Sat slowly on the edge of the bed, and lifted the silver cover.

Warm bread, a bowl of spiced soup, roasted root vegetables. Simple. Comforting. Human.

She didn’t trust it.

But she ate anyway.

Because surviving wasn’t always about trust.

…

That night, sleep came in fits.

She dozed, then woke to distant howls.

She turned on her side, and the fire in the hearth dimmed, as if reacting to her movements.

At one point, she thought she heard whispering so faint she couldn’t tell if it came from the hallway or inside her own head.

When the knock came again, it was just after midnight.

She sat up, heart in her throat. No one sane would knock at this hour.

But she was done cowering.

She padded to the door, opened it.

Lucien stood there.

Still fully dressed in his dark uniform, his long coat dusted with fresh aura.

“I didn’t call for you,” Anana said evenly.

“You don’t get to call for me,” he replied.

Then, silence stretched.

“What do you want?” she asked.

Lucien tilted his head slightly. “I came to see if you were still here.”

“I’m not Mira. I won’t run screaming through your halls.”

“No,” he agreed. “You’re too smart for that.”

His eyes wandered past her, to the untouched mirror and the smoldering fire. He didn’t ask to come in but his presence filled the room anyway.

“This place…” she began, hesitant. “It doesn’t feel alive. It feels... haunted.”

Lucien gave a low, amused sound. “That’s because it is.”

Anana blinked. “You’re not joking.”

“No.”

She swallowed hard. “And you’re just... fine with that?”

“I don’t fear ghosts,” he said. “I command worse things.”

Anana crossed her arms. “Then why keep me in comfort? Why not lock me in a cell with the rest of your ‘offerings’?”

Lucien stepped closer, and for a moment, she caught a glimpse of something raw in his expression, something almost... curious.

“Because,” he said slowly, “I’m not sure what you are yet.”

That chilled her more than the wind sneaking under the doorframe.

“Good night, Anana.”

He left.

She stood there for a long time before she shut the door again.

…

The next morning came early.

A bell tolled faintly in the distance.

When Anana stepped out into the hall, she found Ira waiting.

“You’re expected in the East Court,” she said without greeting. “Lucien holds a gathering. And you’ll want to be seen.”

Anana frowned. “Seen by who?”

Ira smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Everyone who wants you gone.”

…

The East Court was a large hall of stone and glass, lined with warriors, nobles, and advisors. They fell silent as Anana entered, her simple gray dress whispering against the cold floor.

Lucien stood at the center, speaking to a tall man with a scarred jaw and arms crossed in judgment.

When his eyes met Anana’s, the hall tensed.

She walked forward slowly, not shrinking.

She would not bow.

She would not look down.

Lucien's lips curved, just slightly.

"Finally! You're here," he said, voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "The Luna of the Fallen Crescent Moon Pack has arrived."

Gasps rippled.

And then, whispers.

She could feel their eyes slicing into her skin, but she didn’t flinch.

Lucien extended a hand, not for comfort.

But for declaration.

She didn’t take it.

Instead, she met his gaze and spoke clearly, “I’m not a Luna anymore.”

Lucien’s smile sharpened.

“No,” he murmured. “You’re something else now.”

And the entire court seemed to lean in like wolves scenting blood.

Anana raised her chin, pulse steady.

She might have walked into the Lion’s den.

But she was done playing prey.