LOGINEvery full moon, the curse steals her strength. Every sunrise, she crawls back from the edge of death. Selene was only six when her parents tried to steal the Heart of the First Wolf – a sacred artifact belonging to the Moon Goddess. Caught and cursed, her parents died. Selene survived, but the mark on her wrist binds her to a lifetime of punishment. Every full moon, the artifact drains her, leaving her lifeless in the dirt. Now eighteen, she is the pack omega. Despised. Beaten. Alone. Alpha Kael would kill her if pack law allowed. Instead, he lets the pack torment her. After one brutal moon, he warns her that he will no longer send anyone to find her. Next time, she can die alone. But the Moon Goddess has been watching. When Selene prays at a forgotten shrine, the Goddess answers. A war is coming, and the wolf nation needs a heart – not an Alpha, not a warrior. Selene's curse begins to change. The full moon that once destroyed her awakens something terrifying and beautiful. Kael watches in confusion as the omega he despises grows stronger than him. The mate bond snaps into place – but Selene refuses him. She will not accept the man who wished her dead. Now trapped between a cruel Alpha who suddenly can't stop touching her and a war that threatens to destroy them all, Selene must decide: forgive the man who broke her – or rise alone as the Goddess's chosen weapon. Because the curse was never a punishment. It was a test. And she's finally passing.
View MoreOnce again, I regained consciousness. The feeling of dirt under my cheek meant a lot of things, and most importantly, that I was alive. I survived another full moon.
I opened my eyes with no idea of what had happened in the past hour. All I knew was that the full moon had just passed and the curse had struck me again. I tried to move. Nothing happened. My limbs were dead weight, as if the earth had claimed them. Distant chatters and faint howls came from the pack house. All I could do was wonder when this curse would end – and how. I could feel the wolf inside me going silent, like a caged and tortured animal just hoping to die. Soon, I heard boots approaching. Pack members passing by, only to see me on the ground. They stopped. For a second, there was silence. Then one of them spoke out: “Is she dead this time?” Another replied, “How about we find out?” They came close and turned me over. As soon as they did, a chilled pain shot down my spine. I gasped and tried to breathe. Then Mara came. She was the only one in the pack who ever showed me any care. She knelt beside me. Her face showed exhaustion, but she still smiled. I tried to say something, but only a rasp came out. “You survived again, little one,” she whispered. Then came loud footsteps. Everyone around me stepped back. I knew who it was. Why wouldn’t I know him? The man I was most terrified of. Alpha Kael. Dawn light crept in as he drew close. He was seven feet tall, with broad shoulders and large muscles – the picture of how an Alpha should look. He was always disgusted by the sight of me. Everyone hated me, but his hatred was on another level. He saw me as a curse that should have been purged long ago. His jaw was tight, his eyes ice cold. He looked at me with disgust, as always, and asked, “Is she still breathing?” “Yes, Alpha,” Mara replied. “Then what is she doing here? Take her to the infirmary. She’s blocking the entrance.” I thought to myself: How can someone be this heartless? He didn’t even ask how I got here or how I’m doing. I didn’t know why I expected different. He’d always been like this. Maybe I’d never learn. Two pack warriors dragged me across the dirt toward the infirmary. As they pulled me past him, I caught his scent. Pine and smoke. Something inside me tugged. I didn’t understand what the feeling meant – then it faded. Every rock tore through my back as they dragged me. The pain doubled. They thought they were helping, but they only made it worse. I lost consciousness again. When I woke, I was on a cot in the infirmary. Mara was beside me, trying to revive me. Finally, I opened my eyes. She looked at me, then left without a word. I was alone with just the memories. I looked at my wrist. The faint silver mark in the shape of a crescent moon was still there. The mark I received when the curse was made. Then the memories came. I was only six when my parents dragged me through a moonlit forest. My mother’s hand was tight, almost bruising my wrist. We entered a cave so dark that the only light came from a floating artifact carved like a wolf’s tooth. It hovered at the center. The Heart of the First Wolf. My father moved closer. A smile mixed with happiness and fear crossed his face. He grabbed it. As we tried to run, the cave began to shake. From the shaking came something unexpected. A woman’s voice that drove chills down our bones, shouting: “Thieves!” The Moon Goddess herself. Her cave had been desecrated. In seconds, wolves surrounded us from every angle, as if she had summoned them. We were caught. Her punishment was a curse. Since we tried to steal what belonged to her, every full moon, the artifact would steal all our essence from us. My mother shoved me behind her. “Please let her go. She’s only a child.” The Goddess refused. “This is the curse you placed on yourselves and your seed. The child will carry what you tried to steal.” Silver light engulfed me. I screamed and fell. I woke up alone outside the cave. I later learned my parents were dead. Still on the cot, I wept. As tears streamed down my cheek, I whispered, “I was only six. I didn’t choose this life.” I remembered last night’s full moon – how the artifact had pulled my strength from miles away. The excruciating pain, as if it wanted to tear me apart to drain every iota of strength. I remembered collapsing in the forest and crawling for hours toward the pack house because I didn’t want to die alone. No one came to help me. I was a curse to everyone. The infirmary door opened. My heart stopped. It wasn’t Mara. It was Kael. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed. After staring at me for a while, he walked toward me and sat on a stool across from my cot. This time, his look changed. Not hatred – inconvenience, more like. “Do you know what the pack says about you?” he asked. With a weak voice, I replied, “That I am cursed.” “No. They say you are a leech. Every full moon, the artifact drains you – and some of our pack strength goes with it.” Almost crying, I told him, “I can’t control it. None of this was my fault.” “Your parents should have been killed. I spared them because we don’t kill our own. But they died anyway. And you remained.” He leaned closer. His eyes were cold, but there was something underneath – anger at himself? I couldn’t read it. “Next full moon, I won’t send anyone to find you. If the artifact wants you, it can have you.” He stood. My heart almost stopped. “Alpha, please – “ He paused at the door, back turned. “You should have died with your parents.” Then he slammed the door and left. I stared at the ceiling, overwhelmed. I had no more tears left. My wolf whimpered once – then silence. Mara returned with broth. She helped me sit up. “Is it true?” I asked. “He won’t send anyone next time?” Mara hesitated, then nodded. “The Alpha’s word is law.” I looked at my cursed wrist. The silver scar seemed dimmer than before. I didn’t know why. Questions filled my mind. Then I told myself: I don’t need anyone’s help. I’ll crawl back on my own. Every time. Until the moon kills me – or I kill the curse. I drank the broth. My hand didn’t shake.I didn't go back to sleep.By the time the first light crept through the narrow window, I was already sitting at the small wooden table in the corner of my room. A torn scrap of paper lay in front of me. Charcoal stained my fingers.I stared at the names I'd already written, the letters uneven but clear enough.Mara. Rina. Kael.I paused there for a moment, the tip of the charcoal hovering just above the page. Then I moved lower.Damon.I pressed harder than I meant to, the charcoal digging into the paper as I added a question mark beside his name.Something about him sat wrong in my chest. Not just the scar. Not just the way his eyes had stayed on me a second too long. It was the feeling – like I'd already stepped into something I didn't fully see yet.My wolf stirred, a low, warning rumble curling through my chest.Danger.I exhaled slowly and added two more names beneath his – faces I'd memorized from the corridors. Wolves who whispered too quickly when I passed. Who looked away to
I didn't put the feather down.Even after the room went quiet again. Even after the walls settled and the air stopped feeling like it had been disturbed.I sat on the edge of my bed, the feather resting across my palm, turning it slowly between my fingers. It caught the faint light from the window in a way that didn't make sense – too dark to reflect, too smooth to be natural.The edges were sharp – not enough to cut, but not soft either. It didn't feel like something that had fallen from the sky. It felt placed. Deliberate.I ran my thumb along the spine, frowning. Too large for any bird I'd seen near the pack lands. Too heavy. Too wrong.I lifted it slightly, bringing it closer to my face. Breathed in.At first, there was nothing. Then – something faint. Familiar.My chest tightened.Wolf.Not just the general scent of the pack that clung to everything. Specific. Close. Someone had held this. Recently.My wolf stirred low in my chest, a quiet sound building at the back of my throat
I woke with my hands still wrapped.For a second, I didn't move. Just lay there, staring at the low ceiling, feeling the weight of the cloth around my knuckles. It had shifted a little in my sleep, loosened at the edges, but it was still there – firm, steady, holding everything together.I lifted my hands slowly.White fabric. Faintly stained. Creased where it had been tied with care.My thumb brushed along the edge.I remembered the way his fingers had moved – sure, precise. The brief pause at the end. The pressure of his thumb smoothing the wrap into place.The memory sat in my chest, quiet but heavy.I swallowed and looked away.Carefully, I began unwrapping one hand. The cloth peeled back in slow layers, revealing skin that shouldn't have looked the way it did.The cuts were still there – but not the same. No longer raw. No longer open. They'd closed overnight, thin pink lines replacing what had been split and bleeding just hours ago.I turned my hand slightly, studying it. Flexed
I woke before the knock again. This time, I didn't even try to sleep. The room was dim, washed in that gray light just before dawn, when everything felt quieter than it should be. I lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, listening to my own breathing. Then I lifted my hands. The strips of cloth I'd torn from an old shirt were already stained through – dark patches where blood had seeped in and dried. They were tied badly, uneven, one looser than the other. My fingers flexed inside them, slow and stiff. Pain flared. Sharp. Deep. I exhaled. It didn't feel like something to avoid. It felt like proof. I pushed myself up, resting my elbows on my knees, and unwrapped one hand carefully. The skin underneath was raw, split across the knuckles, still angry and red. I pressed my thumb lightly against one of the cuts. It hurt. I smiled. Just a little. My other hand drifted to my wrist. The scar greeted me before I even touched it – warm, alive in a way it had never been befor
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