The scent of blood hit before the first scream. Metallic and raw, it sliced through the air like a warning bell seconds before the chaos began.
Rogues.
I didn’t need Celeste’s training to recognize the savagery of their auras as a pack of them stormed the neutral clearing, their snarls splitting through the murmurs of political chatter and soft music. For a heartbeat, the world froze. Then, like a dam breaking, panic erupted.
People screamed and scattered. Elders scrambled for safety. Warriors threw off cloaks and shifted mid-stride. I stood still, rooted by the familiar, paralyzing sense of being cornered, of danger creeping toward me while I remained unseen until I saw them.
Two children. Trapped beneath a broken merchant table, eyes wide with terror. A rogue snarled, lunging toward them like a bullet.
I moved.
This time there was no hesitation. No doubt.
Silver exploded over my skin as I shifted halfway hybrid form arms coated in fur, claws sharp and deadly, eyes glowing amber.
I slammed into the rogue mid-air, sending him sprawling. His breath left in a choked hiss as we rolled, locked in vicious combat. My claws found purchase in his shoulder, ripping, my teeth snapping inches from his throat.
“Luna!” someone shouted I didn’t know who.
The rogue kicked me back, but my training took over. I twisted, letting the momentum carry me into a crouch, then launched again. My fist connected with his jaw, a satisfying crack echoing through the chaos. He slumped to the ground, unconscious or worse.
The children stared up at me, speechless.
“Run,” I barked, voice deeper, laced with Alpha command.
They obeyed.
I turned, scanning the field. Dozens of rogues, more than I’d ever seen. Some were already locked in battle with warriors from every pack. Others hunted the weak and untrained, tearing through the crowd. My pulse thundered. I could run, slip away in the panic and stay hidden like Celeste warned.
But then I saw him again.
Kai Nightshade.
He was a blur of motion, every strike calculated. His massive form tore through enemies with raw power and precise control. He shielded the vulnerable with his body, snarling commands to organize the scattered fighters. A warrior Alpha.
And that was when I made my choice.
Not to flight.
but to keep Fighting.
I leapt into the fray, slicing through two rogues before they reached a wounded merchant. My strength felt endless, fury fueling every movement. Every claw swipe, every bone-snapping blow, burned away Marcus’s betrayal, cleansing my soul in combat.
A rogue lunged at my blind side, and I braced for impact but it never came. Instead, Kai’s massive wolf tackled him mid-air, teeth sinking into the rogue’s neck with lethal precision. He landed beside me, his coat soaked in blood and eyes locked on mine.
We fought back-to-back without a word.
Our movements synchronized as if choreographed by instinct. He slashed low, I went high. When I faltered, his flank shielded me. When he stumbled, I was already covering his six. It was terrifying how natural it felt.
And then it happened.
A rogue charged me. I turned, too slow, breath catching but instead of attacking, he froze mid-step, pupils dilating, limbs shaking. I felt it ripple out of me, like a shockwave of silent command.
Stop.
The rogue whimpered, crumpling to his knees.
I blinked.
Had I…?
Around me, three other rogues hesitated. Confused. Lost. Their aggression wavered under my gaze. My heart pounded as realization dawned.
Celeste had said I held a sliver of the Moon Goddess’s authority. Royal blood, born to command.
This was it.
My voice came out sharp and thunderous. “Stand down!”
Some obeyed. Others fled. Those who resisted were cut down by warriors catching on to the shift.
When the last rogue fell, silence blanketed the clearing. My breaths came in gasps, my body humming with energy. Dozens of eyes turned toward me.
Recognition.
Fear.
Awe.
And then…questions.
Who was I?
I straightened, blood dripping from my claws. “Anyone else need help?” I asked, trying to sound normal.
But the spell was broken. I stepped back, slipping into the crowd before the stares could morph into accusations.
Kai followed.
“You’re not what you seem,” he said quietly once we reached the trees.
I glanced at him. His shirt was torn, blood painted across his ribs, but his eyes…his eyes were soft.
“No,” I admitted. “I’m not.”
We stood in silence, the smell of ash and iron clinging to the air.
“I don’t know your name,” he added, “but I want to.”
I opened my mouth, but the sound of heavy footsteps stopped me cold.
Reinforcements.
The Silver Moon warriors.
Marcus.
I knew his scent before I saw his face. Pine smoke, betrayal, and heartbreak. I turned toward the commotion just as the Silver Moon patrol broke through the trees, led by the man who had once shattered my soul.
Marcus Steele.
His wolf was close to the surface, eyes glowing, lips curled back in a snarl as he scanned the aftermath. Then his posture faltered, a frown pulling at his brow.
He sniffed the air.
Again.
I backed further into the shadows.
His wolf reacted first howling low, confused and searching. His eyes darted around, landing on the bloodstained ground. His bond recognized me.
But his eyes did not.
My hair was shorter, now midnight black. My face was sharper. Stronger. My scent was cloaked, masked with the herbs Celeste brewed. He looked right at me and blinked…then turned his head, doubt settling on his features.
Behind him, Victoria appeared, draped in her usual vanity and venom.
“What is it?” she asked, her voice grating.
“Nothing,” Marcus murmured, but his stance remained rigid, alert. “I thought” His voice broke off.
Kai stepped forward slightly, not aggressively, but enough to place his body between Marcus and me.
Protective.
Territorial.
Victoria’s gaze narrowed.
Kai’s voice was cool. “You're late.”
Marcus looked him over, something tense pulsing between the two Alphas.
“Traffic,” he said curtly.
“Shame,” Kai replied. “You missed all the fun.”
Their words were mild, but the undercurrent was electric. Male dominance, pack rivalry, and something else possessiveness?
I turned to leave, not interested in Marcus’s regret or Victoria’s poisonous glares. My emotions were raw, the battle still pounding through my veins.
As Kai fell into step beside me, I let out a slow breath.
Then
“Wait.”
The word wasn’t loud. Barely a whisper. But I heard it.
I turned my head slightly.
Marcus stood still, brows furrowed, mouth open.
His eyes locked on mine.
Not my face.
My eyes.
Amber-gold. The only trait I’d never been able to hide.
“Luna?” he breathed.
My heart stopped. For a second, I almost answered.
But then I turned, slipped deeper into the shadows with Kai.
Leaving Marcus standing in the ruins of his own choices, whispering the name of the girl he threw away.
I might’ve slipped past Marcus for now but secrets like mine don’t stay buried for long. Not when rogue attacks keep closing in, and whispers start circling about a silver she-wolf who can command with nothing but a look.
And Kai?
He’s watching me closer every day.
I can feel it.
He’s already decided. He’s going to find out exactly who I am.
And when he does… everything changes.
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