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Luna of the Lost Bloodline
Luna of the Lost Bloodline
Author: Christina Wilder

Chapter 1

last update Huling Na-update: 2025-10-21 01:59:43

The night the Moon Goddess revealed her cruelty, the sky was too beautiful for something so brutal. Silver light dripped through the clouds like silk, brushing the clearing where the entire Silvercrest Pack had gathered. The air was sharp and clean after the evening rain, but beneath it lingered the scent of wet earth, fur, and something electric — anticipation thick enough to choke on.

I stood on the edge of the gathering, clutching the sleeves of my worn sweater like it might hold me together. It didn’t. Nothing could.

The pack ring was alive with whispers, bodies pressing close, eager to witness the spectacle. Omegas like me weren’t supposed to stand anywhere near the center, but tonight was different. Everyone had been summoned. And every breath I took felt like it carried me toward something I didn’t understand yet.

The bonfire burned high, its light throwing long shadows across the faces that had taunted me since I could remember. I could feel their stares scraping against my skin — the mocking eyes of wolves who thought my existence was beneath them. Omega. Weak. Worthless.

I knew the words they whispered. I had heard them all my life.

But I had never heard the bond.

It happened in a heartbeat.

One moment, I was just another body in the cold, watching the Alpha stride toward the center like he owned the night. The next, the air itself shifted. A pulse. A drag. A force older than law or blood.

My heart stopped. Then it raced.

The moment Kael Draven looked at me, everything inside me splintered.

The Alpha’s golden eyes locked on mine across the ring, and I felt the bond snap into place — raw and undeniable. It was like being struck by lightning from the inside. A low hum shivered through my veins, sharp and hot, crawling up my throat. My knees nearly buckled.

No one needed to say it. Everyone knew what it meant when two wolves felt the bond that violently.

Fated mates.

The gasps around me were louder than the wind.

Kael Draven. Alpha. Leader. Untouchable.

And me… the Omega girl who mopped the training floor.

I didn’t know if I wanted to laugh or cry. My lungs burned, and somewhere deep in my chest, my wolf let out a desperate sound that felt like hope clawing through a wound. She had always dreamed of this moment, even when I told her not to.

But Kael’s face… it didn’t soften. It hardened.

His jaw tightened. His hands curled into fists. And in the silence that followed, I heard my world cracking at the edges.

“No,” he said softly, like a storm starting to breathe.

The crowd shifted, murmurs flickering like sparks. I tried to breathe, but the bond pulsed stronger — like a hand squeezing my heart.

He stepped toward me. Even without shifting, Kael radiated dominance. It rolled off him in waves, pressing down on everyone around. People lowered their heads. A few omegas whimpered softly, their wolves bowing before him on instinct. My wolf trembled too… but not out of fear. It was something else. Recognition. Claim.

“Aria Hale,” Kael said, voice cutting through the whispers like a blade through silk. “The Moon Goddess made a mistake.”

The words fell like stones.

Someone laughed softly behind me. Others gasped. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t even think.

“Mistake?” I whispered. My voice cracked like ice underfoot.

His eyes flashed gold — the Alpha surfacing in full. “I will not accept you as my Luna.”

The bond surged — like something ripping inside me, tearing flesh I didn’t know could bleed. I clutched my chest as the power inside me howled against the rejection, scraping and burning. My knees hit the dirt before I even realized I’d fallen.

Kael’s wolf rumbled beneath his skin, restless. Mine clawed inside me, keening in pain. The Moon didn’t give you a choice. That’s what they always said. The bond was absolute. But Kael — Kael Draven was looking me in the eye and defying the Goddess.

“You can’t—” I tried, choking on air. “You can’t reject fate.”

His expression didn’t waver. He stood like a statue carved out of fury and pride. “I can. And I will. I will not tie my bloodline to weakness.”

Weakness.

The word punched through me harder than his power ever could. I’d spent my entire life hearing it whispered in dark corners. But hearing it from my mate was different. It was final.

The pack reacted like wolves smelling blood. Whispers. Snickers. Laughter that felt like blades pressing against my skin.

“She’s nothing,” someone muttered.

“An Omega Luna? The Goddess must be blind.”

“Pathetic.”

My hands trembled against the dirt. Heat stung my eyes, but I refused to let tears fall here. Not in front of him. Not in front of them.

I forced myself to look up. He was still standing there — the man the Goddess chose for me — refusing me with the entire pack as witness. My chest hurt. Not in the soft, fragile way of heartbreak. In the sharp, scorching way of something being carved out of you while you’re still awake.

“You’ll regret this,” I whispered, not because I believed it. But because saying anything else would’ve broken me.

Kael’s eyes narrowed. The bond flared between us again, a hot, trembling thread that neither of us could fully sever yet. For a heartbeat, something flickered in his gaze — something raw, dark, and unspoken.

Then he turned his back.

The bond screamed.

It wasn’t just pain — it was a storm ripping through my soul. My wolf wailed inside me, fighting to reach for him, even as I begged her not to. Every part of me wanted to run after him, to beg, to sink to my knees and offer myself as less than nothing just to stop the tearing. But I didn’t move.

I stood. Slowly. Every muscle in my body burned.

The bonfire’s light caught on my face as I met the stares of the pack — wolves who had always treated me like a stain they couldn’t scrub out. Now they had proof that even the Moon didn’t want me.

I let out a shaky breath. “I don’t need your pity,” I said softly.

Someone scoffed. Another laughed.

I walked away.

Every step felt like dragging my broken soul through gravel, but I didn’t stop. The bond pulsed with every heartbeat, a cruel reminder of what I’d lost before I ever had it. But beneath the pain, something else stirred. Faint. Small. Hot.

Power.

The night air wrapped around me as I left the clearing. The howls of the pack echoed behind me, half amusement, half bloodlust. I knew what came next — the mockery, the cruelty, the way rejection would brand me. Omegas didn’t survive rejections like this. Not cleanly.

But I wasn’t going to fall apart in front of them.

By the time I reached the tree line, my hands were shaking. My skin prickled like static under my clothes. The bond throbbed deep in my chest, an open wound. I pressed my palm to my heart.

“Breathe,” I whispered to myself. “Just breathe.”

The forest was silent, except for the rustle of wet leaves. I inhaled the scent of earth and night, trying to ground myself, but my body wouldn’t stop trembling. The rejection had ripped something open inside me — and the void it left behind wasn’t empty. It was… alive.

A sound ripped through the night. Not a howl. Something deeper. Ancient.

I froze.

Every instinct screamed at me to run, but my wolf rose inside me, sharp and alert, ears pricked. I’d spent my entire life bowing, hiding, shrinking. But right now, for the first time, my wolf didn’t cower.

My vision sharpened. My senses flared. I could hear the heartbeat of the forest — the drip of water from leaves, the rustle of a deer farther east, the low, steady thrum of something else watching me.

A shadow moved between the trees.

I backed up slowly, pulse hammering. But the air shifted again — that same electric pulse I’d felt when the bond snapped into place. Only this time, it wasn’t Kael. It was me.

Silver light bled from my palms.

I stared at my hands, panic burning through the fog of heartbreak. It wasn’t the reflection of moonlight. The glow came from beneath my skin, pulsing with my heartbeat, brightening every time I thought of Kael’s voice saying weakness.

“No,” I whispered, my breath shaking. “No, no, no.”

The power surged again — a hot, liquid rush through my veins, as if something inside me had been caged for too long and was now clawing its way out. I fell to my knees, fingers digging into the dirt.

My wolf wasn’t crying anymore. She was awake.

The shadow between the trees moved closer.

A low growl vibrated through the ground, making my bones tremble. Not from the pack. Something else. Something that felt older than this forest, older than Kael, older than the Alpha order itself.

I should’ve run. But something in me answered it. A low sound rose from my own throat, quiet but sharp, like a note pulled from a buried song.

My heart pounded. My palms glowed brighter.

And then—

“Aria.”

I jerked around. Kael stood at the edge of the clearing, half in shadow, golden eyes burning like embers. He’d followed me.

For a split second, the bond flared between us again — wild and furious and alive. His chest rose and fell like he’d been running, but his voice was low, rough, cracking around the edges like he didn’t know why he was here.

“You shouldn’t be here alone,” he said.

I laughed, bitter and breathless. “You rejected me five minutes ago, Alpha. What are you going to do now? Make sure I die gracefully?”

He flinched. It was small, but I saw it.

“Something’s out there,” he muttered, scanning the treeline. His wolf was at the surface — I could sense it in the shift of his stance, the way his scent sharpened. He could feel the power in the air too.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice shaking but sharp. “Me.”

His gaze snapped to my hands. Silver light painted the forest floor in trembling streaks. For a heartbeat, Kael didn’t breathe. The bond between us pulsed — not with rejection, but with something dark and hungry and unsettled.

“What did you do?” he whispered.

“I didn’t do anything,” I spat. “You did.”

His lips parted, a curse half-formed. But before he could step closer, the growl came again — closer this time, circling. Kael turned, his entire body shifting into Alpha mode, but the thing in the trees didn’t belong to any pack. I could feel it.

The silver in my blood pulsed harder, answering the darkness.

“Go back to the packhouse,” he ordered without looking at me.

I let out a shaky laugh. “You don’t get to order me around anymore.”

His head snapped toward me, and for a moment, the Alpha in him and the bond between us collided — a spark, a flare, something dangerous. His golden eyes flickered with a heat I didn’t want to name.

The growl turned into a roar.

Branches cracked as a massive shadow lunged out of the dark. Not wolf. Not human. Something else.

Kael shifted halfway in a blur of movement — bones snapping, fur bursting from skin — but even he wasn’t fast enough to stop what came next.

The thing’s eyes burned crimson. It launched straight for me.

I didn’t scream. I didn’t cower.

The silver light exploded from my palms like a star being born.

The world went white.

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  • Luna of the Lost Bloodline   Chapter 118

    The space between breaths vanished.Aria felt it collapse—not physically, but decisively. The universe had reached that razor-thin moment where delay was no longer neutral. Every system, every watcher, every emergent intelligence leaned toward outcome.She stepped forward.Not toward the node.Not toward the lonely mind.Into the between.Kael felt her pull away and tightened his grip instinctively. “Aria—”“I won’t leave,” she said, voice steady despite the storm rising through her. “I’m anchoring.”Auren swore under his breath. “That’s not reassuring.”The child’s glow spiked, resonance flaring as Aria moved fully into her role—not as bridge, not as reference—but as mediator.She opened herself.Not wide.Precisely.She shaped a corridor—not of energy, but of definition.A space where identities could touch without dissolving.The lonely cosmic mind surged again, drawn by the waking entity’s vast coherence. Its longing was no longer subtle. It radiated need, exhaustion, the ache of

  • Luna of the Lost Bloodline   Chapter 117

    The waking did not announce itself with light.It announced itself with attention.Aria felt it settle across the planet like a hand resting—not pressing, not claiming, simply acknowledging. Every relational thread she had been holding trembled, not from strain but from sudden alignment, as if they had found a common axis they had never known they were searching for.She staggered, breath catching.Kael was instantly there. “Aria.”“I’m here,” she said—but her voice sounded distant even to her own ears. “I’m just… wider than I was a moment ago.”The pulse beneath them steadied, no longer searching, no longer tentative. It had rhythm now. Intent, perhaps—but not desire.Presence.Auren stared at the ground as if he expected it to open. “Tell me the planet isn’t about to start talking.”The child-being shook its head, light rippling softly.Not talking. Listening.That unsettled Aria more than words ever could.The fragment-observer drifted upward, its structure elongating as it tried t

  • Luna of the Lost Bloodline   Chapter 116

    The pulse came again.Stronger.Not a vibration in stone or air—but a rhythmic tightening in the relational fabric Aria now felt as clearly as gravity.She drew a slow breath.“It’s synchronizing,” she said.“With what?” Kael asked.Aria looked at the child.“With us.”The valley light-columns responded first, their glow modulating to match the deep rhythm rising from the planet’s structural boundary.Auren folded his arms. “Tell me this is normal for worlds that just got promoted to cosmic landmarks.”The fragment-observer flickered.No precedent available.“Fantastic,” he muttered.Far beyond, the monitoring construct rotated its petaled arrays, focusing more tightly. It did not move closer—but attention intensified, data streams narrowing on the emerging node.It wasn’t intervening.It was… watching like a scientist at the edge of a petri dish where something unexpected had begun to divide.The child tilted its head, listening to a sound no one else could hear.It’s not separate, t

  • Luna of the Lost Bloodline   Chapter 115

    The decision did not arrive like a word.It arrived like a shift in gravity.For a fraction of a second, every relational pathway Aria was holding—planetary, inter-system, the fragile thread through the child to the lonely cosmic mind—tightened as if pulled toward a single point of evaluation.Then—Release.Not full.But enough.Aria gasped, knees buckling. Kael caught her before she hit the ground.Auren stared at the sky where distant stars still curved around the approaching construct.“Well?” he demanded.The fragment-observer answered, voice thin with processing strain.Primary containment protocol aborted.Kael exhaled sharply.But the fragment continued.Secondary measure engaged: Adaptive Oversight Mode.Auren squinted. “That sounds like we’re on probation.”Aria managed a weak smile. “We are.”The construct did not stop approaching.But its energy profile changed—field generators shifting from suppression harmonics to something more… observatory.A ring of faint structures u

  • Luna of the Lost Bloodline   Chapter 114

    It was not a ship.That was the first thing the Collective-being confirmed.Ships had intent signatures—navigation curves, energy gradients shaped around propulsion. This object’s trajectory was too clean, too inevitable.It did not travel through space.Space bent around its presence as if the universe itself were making room.Aria felt its approach like a low pressure building beneath reality.“How long?” Auren asked.The fragment-observer stabilized enough to answer clearly.At current distortion rate: fourteen hours to boundary interaction.Kael let out a breath. “That’s not long.”“No,” Aria agreed. “But it’s enough.”She turned, not to the sky—but to the world.“Begin global alignment,” she said softly.The system responded.Not militarily.Relationally.Cities’ power grids shifted to resonance-stable configurations. Communication networks redistributed load. Transportation systems paused nonessential strain. Ecosystems adjusted microbalances.Humanity, unaware of the cosmic thr

  • Luna of the Lost Bloodline   Chapter 113

    For a long time after the distortion faded, no one moved.Not Aria.Not Auren.Not the beings suspended at the edge of the valley like a silent council of impossible witnesses.Even the wind seemed to hesitate before remembering how to cross grass.Then the system exhaled.It wasn’t sound.It was release—billions of micro-adjustments resuming across the planet, probability flows unfreezing, weather patterns continuing their slow negotiations with oceans and land.Life, reassured nothing had ended, went on.Aria lowered her hand.“I think,” she said softly, “we just passed a cosmic checkpoint.”Auren let out a shaky laugh. “Do we get a receipt?”The fragment-observer drifted closer, its form less stable than usual.System status change confirmed. External lattice metadata updated.“Speak human,” Auren muttered.Aria translated without looking away from the sky. “We’re no longer just a world. We’re… a landmark.”Kael glanced down at the child-being, who was watching the place where the

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