The forest was blur around me, a dark trees, silver moonlight, the sharp scent of pine and earth. My lungs burned as I gasped for air between sobs, my ruined wedding dress catching on brambles and roots. The pain of Marcus’s rejection throbbed like an open wound, echoing in my bones, my blood. My wolf whimpered inside me, curled in on herself, too wounded to rise. I didn’t know how far I’d run, only that I couldn’t go back. Not to the pack, not to the betrayal. Not to them.
I collapsed into the clearing again, my legs too weak to carry me farther. The moon’s light filtered through the trees, painting my shredded gown with silver. My hands trembled as I pressed them against my chest, trying to hold together the pieces of my heart. But it was shattered beyond recognition.
Then I heard footsteps. Not heavy like Marcus’s or light like Victoria’s. Barefoot, deliberate. I sat up, every instinct on alert. A scent reached me of ancient herbs, woodsmoke, and something… familiar.
From the shadows, a figure emerged.
Long silver hair flowed like a river down her back, and her pale lavender robes shimmered in the moonlight. Her eyes pierced through the darkness, golden and glowing.
“Luna,” she whispered, her voice a melody, impossibly soft and strong all at once.
I blinked. “I’m hallucinating,” I croaked, dragging myself backward. “You’re dead. You died before I was born.”
She knelt beside me without answering, her presence overwhelming and yet calming. Her fingers brushed the blood from my mouth where I’d bitten my tongue. Her touch radiated warmth, unlike anything I’d ever known.
“I am not dead,” she said finally. “Though I have been hidden.”
I stared at her. The scent was real. Her hand, solid. This wasn’t a ghost. “Who… who are you?”
“I am Celeste,” she said, brushing my matted hair from my face. “Your grandmother.”
I recoiled. “That’s impossible. My grandmother died during the war. My mother told me”
“She told you what she had to,” Celeste interrupted gently. “To protect you. Just as I protected her. Our enemies believed I died in the fire that consumed the Sacred Glen. They were meant to believe it.”
I tried to sit up, the pain in my ribs flaring again. “Why now? Why show yourself now?”
Celeste’s expression softened. “Because the blood has awakened. And because your heart has been broken wide enough to let the truth in.”
She pulled a pouch from her robes and sprinkled crushed herbs into her palm mugwort, dried moonroot, and something that shimmered with faint silver sparks. Pressing her hand to my chest, just above where Marcus had rejected me, she murmured in an old tongue that made my skin tingle.
Warmth spread through me. The agony in my chest dulled to a throb. The dizziness faded, the pain in my muscles receding like a tide.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
She nodded. “You’ve endured more than you should have. But it’s only the beginning.”
“Why me?” I asked, tears slipping silently down my cheeks. “Why now?”
Celeste looked at me for a long moment, and then reached into the folds of her robe, pulling out a polished mirror framed in bone-white stone. She held it up to my face.
“Look into your own eyes, Luna. What do you see?”
I blinked. My reflection stared back at the ruined gown, tear-streaked face, eyes glowing like twin flames in the moonlight. Not blue like Marcus’s. Not green like Victoria’s. Gold. Always gold.
“I hate them,” I admitted, voice trembling. “I always have.”
“They are the mark of the divine,” Celeste said firmly. “You are the last living descendant of the royal line of the Moon Goddess. Your eyes are your birthright.”
I recoiled again, shaking my head. “No. That’s not… I’m not royal. I’m not anything.”
“You are everything,” she said, pressing her hands over mine. “And you must understand why you were hidden. The blood you carry is more powerful than any Alpha, any pack. When the royal bloodline was hunted to extinction, your parents sacrificed everything to keep you safe. They erased their identities, abandoned the protection of the old ways, and raised you as one of them.”
I tried to process it. “My parents knew?”
Celeste nodded. “Your mother was a royal daughter. She gave up the throne to live in hiding with your father, a warrior sworn to protect her. They kept you close to the earth, close to the ordinary, to shield you.”
“But why me?” I whispered. “Why would Marcus, why would they reject me if I’m…”
“Because your power threatens them,” she said simply. “Because deep down, they knew you were more than them. Even Marcus sensed it, even if he couldn’t name it. That’s why he rejected you. That’s why Victoria coveted your place. You were never weak, Luna. You were dangerous.”
I couldn’t breathe. The truth was too big to hold, too heavy to bear.
“I’m… a royal.”
“The last of your kind,” Celeste confirmed. “And now, your awakening begins.”
The air shifted around us, thick with energy. My skin itches, heat rising from beneath the surface of my flesh. My wolf stirred, but not in fear. In anticipation.
“What’s happening?” I gasped.
Celeste stood, stepping back. “Your true self is emerging.”
The pain hit suddenly, sharp and consuming. My bones twisted, skin stretching, a fire igniting from within. I screamed, the sound echoing through the forest, half-human, half-beast. The seams of my soul tore open, and from the wreckage, something ancient and primal emerged.
I shifted.
Silver-white fur exploded across my body. My limbs lengthened, my back arched, and when I collapsed to all fours, the forest seemed to shrink around me.
I was enormous. Bigger than any wolf I’d ever seen, taller than an Alpha, broader, more radiant. My fur shimmered under the moonlight, and my eyes golden, burning lit the clearing like twin torches.
Celeste stepped closer, her face filled with awe. “By the goddess… you’re more powerful than even I hoped.”
But the power coursing through me was wild, unstable. I growled deep, guttural. The trees trembled. Sparks lit the air around my paws. My claws carved grooves in the earth as I tried to control the rush, the flood of instinct and memory and rage.
“Luna!” Celeste called, her voice steady. “Breathe. Listen to me.”
I couldn’t. My mind was a storm of images flashing past: Marcus’s betrayal, Victoria’s smile, the pack’s laughter. I howled, long and loud, the sound cracking through the night like thunder.
Celeste placed her hand on my snout. “You are not just a wolf,” she said. “You are the heir to the goddess. Control it. Command it.”
I shuddered, closing my glowing eyes. Slowly, the chaos inside began to still. My breathing slowed. My massive form lowered into the grass.
Minutes passed. Then, with a final breath, I shifted back.
Naked and shaking, I collapsed into Celeste’s arms. She wrapped me in her cloak, cradling me as if I were a child.
“I… I couldn’t stop it,” I murmured.
“You did,” she said with a proud smile. “You controlled it. Your power is not your enemy, Luna. But there are others who will try to make it so.”
I leaned against her, exhausted. “What do I do now?”
“You train. You rise. You become what you were born to be,” she said. “A queen.”
A silence settled between us, heavy with truth and possibility. But then Celeste’s face darkened, her eyes scanning the treeline.
“What is it?” I asked.
“There is one more thing,” she said, voice low. “Someone has been searching for you. Someone powerful.”
I was tense. “Marcus?”
“No.” Her voice was hushed, reverent. “He is ancient. Older than Marcus. Older than most. He has waited centuries for the royal blood to awaken again.”
“Why?” I asked, heart racing.
“To claim you,” she said. “Not to destroy you but to protect you. He believes the time has come to restore what was lost.”
“And who is he?”
Celeste’s lips curved into a secretive smile. “He is the true Alpha, the only one who ever matched your bloodline in strength. And he’s coming for you, Luna. Sooner than you think.”
My spirit bleeds in the Forsaken Realm, fractured in ways that go beyond physical injury, dim as a candle guttering in its final moments before darkness claims it entirely. The consciousness that hangs here, torn from my flesh and bound in shackles forged from crystallized regret, has been worn thin by eons of torment. Yet through the cracks of despair those hairline fractures that appear in even the most carefully constructed prison when hope refuses to die completely I feel something again.Them.My children again....Not just their voices, but their presence, their souls blazing like beacons in the darkness that has defined my existence for so long. Alexander's fire burns brightest, defiant, impossible to snuff out no matter how much darkness presses against it. I taste his courage on the spectral air like smoke after battle, sharp and acrid and absolutely real. His power doesn't burn clean like Seraphina's scholarly flames or gentle like Kai Jr. 's healing light. This is the fir
I feel myself splitting.Not just my skin, not just my bones. The very essence of what I am, what I was, what I might still become, tearing apart like fabric under impossible strain. It's as if someone has taken my soul and stretched it across two different worlds, pulling in opposite directions until something has to give. The sensation is beyond pain, beyond madness it's the feeling of existing in spaces that were never meant to contain the same consciousness simultaneously.In the mountains, my beast-body thrashes against the snow with mindless violence. The white powder turns red beneath me, melting instantly from the supernatural heat that radiates from my cursed form. My claws carve deep gorges into the ancient stone, leaving marks that will outlast kingdoms, wounds in the earth that mirror the wounds in my spirit. The granite screams as it splits, a sound like the world itself crying out in protest at what I have become.My jaws snap at ghosts that are only echoes of my own mad
The air in the Forsaken Realm shivered, as though the very walls of this prison had suddenly taken a breath after eons of stillness. It was a subtle thing at first, a change in pressure, a shift in the quality of the eternal twilight that had been my only companion. The perpetual fog that clung to everything in this cursed place.My chains rattled against my will, the ethereal bonds that held me suspended in this void of gray stone and darker shadows beginning to vibrate with an energy I didn't recognize. They whispered warnings in voices I knew too well, my father's disappointed sigh when I had first turned to darker magics, my mother's final words before the plague claimed her, the countless advisors who had counseled patience when I chose power instead. The chains had always spoken in the language of regret, but now their whispers carried something new: fear.Something was happening in the world beyond this realm, something the Cursemaker had not commanded, had not foreseen, had no
The mountains weren't silent. They were ancient things, older than memory, older than the civilizations that had risen and fallen in their shadows, and they carried their age in voices of wind and stone. The wind screamed, a constant keening that spoke of centuries of storms weathered and seasons endured. The wolves that prowled these peaks howled their hunger to the night, their voices rising and falling in harmonies that predated human understanding of music itself.And inside me, the beast that had consumed my flesh growled with endless fury, a bass note of rage that vibrated through my bones and into the very bedrock beneath my claws. It was a sound without beginning or end, the eternal snarl of something that had forgotten how to be anything but angry. Day and night, waking and sleeping if such distinctions even applied to creatures like me.Yet tonight, beneath all these chaos, something else stirred in the spaces between heartbeats, in the pauses between the wind's screaming so
I smelled it before I saw it. Smoke, pain, Fear. The acrid stench of burning wood and melting metal mingled with something sweeter and more terrible the scent of charred flesh, of dreams turned to ash, of an empire dying in flames. The wind carried it all to these mountain peaks, each gust a messenger bearing news of my kingdom's end.The echoes of my people's screams reached me even here, high in the mountains where my beast prowled, tearing into rock and soil as though the world itself were prey. My physical form this wolf-thing the curse had made of my fleshmoved without conscious thought, driven by a rage that had no outlet, no target worthy of its fury. Granite split beneath my claws. Ancient pines toppled as I thrashed against them, their mighty trunks snapping like kindling. But no amount of destruction up here could match what was happening below.I was not there in Hollowshade, not in the throne room where I had held court for years, not even standing among the ruins of its
The chains bite deeper every time I move. They're not iron, not flesh, but something crueler woven from my own pain. Each breath rattles in my chest like it doesn't belong to me anymore. The metal tastes of copper and shame, and I wonder if this is what drowning feels like when the water is made of your own failures.I've lost count of how long my consciousness has been suspended here in this twisted mockery of sanctuary. Time moves differently in the Cursemaker's realm, stretching moments of agony into eternities while collapsing years of memory into heartbeats. The walls around me pulse with a sickly luminescence, like veins carrying poisoned light through dead flesh. Every surface reflects my face back at me, distorted and hollow, showing me what I've become what I chose to become when I made that first, fatal bargain.The chains shift with each shallow breath, tightening around my wrists until I can feel my pulse hammering against the ethereal bonds. They know my shame better than