Luna Lisa: The Tale Of The Cursed Wolf

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Reinhardt couldn’t control his movements as his fists slammed repeatedly against the desk.

“This curse… it’s glowing more than necessary! At this rate, I’ll die! But why.....why is the trail spreading so fast?”

He groaned under his breath, his eyes tracing the faint glow that once remained confined to his palm. Now, the light had crept past his wrist, crawling up his forearm, inching its way toward his heart.

It was the same curse that had killed his father and his uncle.

Smell of burnt skin permeated the room.

Reinhardt gritted his teeth as pain surged through his arm. The glow beneath his skin pulsed violently, spreading faster than before. He fumbled for his phone.

“Bertolt… come to my room. Now!”

By the time his brother burst through the door, Reinhardt’s body had already shifted...fur bristling, claws extended as he tried to stop the curse trail from reaching his heart.

“Brother! Why did you shift? Is there an attack?” Bertolt’s own voice trembled as his eyes darted around the room.

“No....don’t shift,” Reinhardt barked. “There’s no attack. The curse on my hand… it’s spreading fast. I don’t know why.”

Reinhardt, still breathing hard. “Can you smell a scent? I think it is the trigger—”

“A scent?” Bertolt replied frantically. “I can’t smell anything.”

Bertolt stepped closer, the purgency of burned flesh stinging his nose. He caught Reinhardt by the arm, steadying him toward the desk.

“Dad never told us why there’s a curse on the natural Alphas of our bloodline,” Bertolt muttered, his voice serving as an evidence of his inner turmoil.

Reinhardt’s scarlet eyes dimmed as he looked down at the crawling glow. “Maybe he didn’t know… or maybe he lied.”

Bertolt turned toward the door, ready to call for Brunhilde, but Reinhardt caught his arm mid-motion.

“Don’t. Brunhilde can’t control her emotions,” Reinhardt said sharply, his breathing ragged. “That’s why she was never chosen as Luna.”

Bertolt froze, guilt flashing in his eyes. “But you need help—”

“I need control,” Reinhardt cut him off. “If this curse keeps spreading, I won’t even live long enough to sire an heir. It’s moving faster than it did with Father… or Uncle Leif.”

Bertolt swallowed hard, his voice trembling. “Don’t say that.”

“I mean it,” Reinhardt continued, his tone steady but low. “I won’t bring a child into this world just to pass on this curse. I’ll find its origin and destroy it. But if I fail…” He looked at his brother, His scarlet eyes fixed on his brother, “Before I die, you must bite me....and become the Alpha. You have no choice,Bertolt.”

Bertolt’s eyes widened. “No, Reinhardt. That would mean I killed you. Never.”

“You have to,” Reinhardt said quietly. “Better a living Alpha than a dying curse.”

"No,Reinhardt, I will also inherit the curse once I become Alpha. The curse doesn't end,Reinhardt. That is what happened to Uncle Leif. He was also a Beta like me."

Reinhardt nodded quietly. He thought within himself that he needed to end the curse himself then. He was a true Alpha. He has a longer time than a Beta when it carries the curse.

Telling Bertolt to do that is like telling him to sign his death sentence.

A heavy silence settled between them, broken only by the faint hum of the glowing marks beneath Reinhardt’s skin.

He turned to his desk, searching for something.....anything to distract himself from the creeping burn. Then he paused. His nostrils flared.

That scent again. Subtle, floral… familiar.

He rifled through the papers until his gaze fell upon a folder labeled Lisa Hathaway. The moment his fingers brushed the file, the curse flared violently, light blazing up his arm toward his shoulder.

Reinhardt gasped, clutching his chest. “Why…” he whispered hoarsely. “Why is Lisa Hathaway’s scent so strong?”

“Lisa Hathaway?” Reinhardt’s voice dropped, the name slipping past his lips as though it carried weight he couldn’t explain.

“Who is Lisa Hathaway?”

He turned sharply. “Bertolt, call Veronica. Now. I need to know where this folder came from.”

His brother, who had been watching in silence, nodded and dialed. Moments later, he handed the phone over.

“Veronica,” Reinhardt said, his tone clipped, “this folder : Lisa Hathaway, where did it come from?”

“It’s a lady, sir. She submitted a job application last week. You told me to leave it in your study,” Veronica’s voice came through the speaker.

“Is that so?” Reinhardt muttered, his voice low and a little bit croaky.

“Yes, sir.”

“Email her.”

“Email her?” she repeated, startled.

“Yes,” he said, firmer now. “Email her.”

A pause. “Okay… okay, sir.”

The call ended.

Reinhardt leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking as he exhaled. His gaze still fixed on the folder like it was something alive,something that had already reached inside him.

“Who in the world is this Lisa?” he murmured.

Then, he said quieter still:

“She shouldn’t affect me this way… her scent,it makes this curse flare.”