Luna's Awakening: She Rose From The Flames

The fire was still only a rumor, but I could already smell the smoke of it in their eyes.

The ballroom throbbed with music and gold light, the pack gathered to witness the ceremony that should have been mine. I stood at the edge of it all, dressed in the rags I called clothes, because I had found the beautiful dress I wanted to wear for my ceremony torn to shreds earlier today. My pulse was loud enough to drown out the violins.

Damien—my fated mate, my promise of forever—was walking down the aisle towards my sister.

Lucia glowed. Her white dress shimmered like frost, her smile sharpened by triumph. The pack cheered as if betrayal were a festival.

Every rule of the Moon’s order said a bond couldn’t break once sealed. Yet here we were, rewriting the Goddess’s laws because my father willed it so. Because an omega daughter brought him shame.

Damien’s eyes found mine only once. Guilt flickered, then it was gone, replaced by the calm mask of an Alpha accepting his prize. My stomach twisted. A thousand nights of whispered vows turned to ash in a single glance.

Lucia took his hand, and the crowd erupted. I didn’t hear the priestess’ words, only the pounding in my chest. The bond inside me tore like wet cloth. Something hot seared behind my ribs—grief or fury, I couldn’t tell. The mark on my neck pulsed once, then went cold.

When they kissed, laughter rolled through the hall. I felt myself split: half of me still begging him to look, the other half wishing the floor would swallow them both. My father watched from his throne, impassive. He’d planned this spectacle, the rejection, the humiliation. The Alpha King of Bluemoon never wasted an opportunity to remind the pack what defiance cost.

I moved before I knew I’d moved. The goblet in my hand shattered against the marble, scarlet wine bleeding across the floor like a wound. The music faltered. Lucia’s smirk faltered with it.

“Enough.” My voice came out raw, shaking. “You can’t undo a bond with a ceremony.”

Father rose. The crowd hushed as his aura spread—thick, heavy, commanding. “You will not speak out of turn, Omega.”

Omega. He used the word like a curse.

Damien stepped forward, trying to appear noble. “Serena, please. You’re making this worse—”

I laughed. It broke halfway, half sob, half snarl. “Worse than stealing my mate?”

Gasps rippled through the hall. Lucia’s eyes glittered. “He chose me,” she said sweetly. “The Goddess must have changed her mind.”

“She doesn’t make mistakes.” My voice trembled, but I held my ground. “You do.”

For a heartbeat, silence. Then Father’s hand came down hard across my cheek. The crack echoed louder than the music ever had.

The crowd exhaled as one, like the scene had been rehearsed. Shame burned hotter than the pain. I caught Damien’s eyes again, begging for anything—defiance, regret, love—but he looked away.

And in that silence, I understood: they would burn me for this.

It pressed against my ears until even the music seemed afraid to move. The crowd stood still, pretending not to stare. I could smell the fear of them, sharp and metallic, because everyone knew that once the Alpha King raised his hand, the rest of us were supposed to bow.

I didn’t.

The sting on my cheek pulsed in time with my heartbeat. I forced my chin up, even though the air itself seemed to demand that I lower it. Father’s gaze was pure winter.

Two guards broke from the line like wolves on command. My instincts screamed run, but the hall was too open, and there was nowhere that his reach didn’t touch. Fingers like iron locked around my arms.

“Father, please—” The plea slipped out before pride could stop it.

His voice stayed calm, the kind of calm that kills. “You have shamed your family and your pack. You will be dealt with accordingly.”

Lucia’s veil fluttered as she turned towards him, eyes wide with practiced innocence.

“She’s not herself, Father. The rejection—it’s driving her mad.”

Lies slid off her tongue like silk. She even looked at me with pity, as if she hadn’t stolen the air from my lungs.

They dragged me past him. My shoulder brushed his arm. The touch sparked, faint but real, and I felt the truth in it—our bond was still there, buried under shame. I turned, desperate.

Damien’s throat worked once before he whispered, “Enough, Serena. Don’t make it worse.”

Worse. The word hit harder than the slap.

Laughter broke from someone at the back of the hall. The crowd, sensing blood, began to murmur—half scandal, half delight. I saw faces I’d trained with, faces that once smiled at me. Not one spoke.

By the time the guards reached the stairs, Father’s voice carried over the noise.

Everyone knew what that meant. The Council always decided the same way.

The cell beneath the palace was cold enough to numb thought. They chained my wrists to the wall, as though I might sprout wings and fly. When the door slammed, dust rained from the ceiling. Only then did the adrenaline drain away, leaving nothing but raw disbelief.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this. Fated mates didn’t break. Families didn’t burn their own.

I closed my eyes, and for the first time the bond felt like a wound still bleeding inside me. Beneath that pain, something darker stirred—a whisper at the edge of hearing, the first breath of a flame that wasn’t entirely mine.

The dungeon reeked of iron and damp earth. Every breath scraped my throat, thick with the stench of old blood and mold. Water dripped somewhere in the dark — slow, deliberate — like time mocking me.

I lay on the cold floor, my wrists bound in silver cuffs that hiss against my skin. They burn through to the bone, and I welcome the pain. At least it reminds me I’m still alive.

I used to think pain meant weakness. Now I understand—it’s proof of survival.

The walls are scarred with claw marks, the ghosts of wolves who screamed before the fire silenced them. I trace one with my eyes and wonder how long it took before they stopped fighting.

Damien’s voice kept replaying in my head.

I reject you, Serena Bathas of the Bluemoon Pack.

Each word a blade. Each syllable another piece of me torn away.

I almost laugh—bitter, cracked. How foolish I was to believe he could ever love me. An omega. A curse. A stain on his perfect Alpha bloodline.

The iron door groaned open, cutting through the darkness. Two guards stepped in, torches in hand. Between them stood my father—Alpha King of Bluemoon Pack. My judge. My executioner.

His shadow stretched long over the stone. I forced myself to stand even though my legs trembled.

“Do you know why you’re here?” he asked, his voice all authority, none of the warmth I used to chase as a child.

I hold his gaze. “Because you need someone to blame.”

His eyes flashed with something I couldn't recognize.

“You’ve brought misfortune on this pack since the day you drew breath,” he said coldly. “Your mother’s death sealed it. The Moon Goddess has spoken through the fire.”

“The fire don’t speak,” I whispered. “You did.”

His hand twitches, as if the words sting.

“You’ve always had your mother’s tongue and character,” he said finally. “It’s what destroyed her.”

He turned towards the guards. “At dawn, she burns.”

The words sink deep, cold and final. My knees weaken, but I refuse to kneel.

As his footsteps fade, silence returns, thick and suffocating. I stared at the floor, my body shaking, not from fear, but fury. The kind that burns quietly, controlled, dangerous.

Something inside me stirs.

A whisper, soft but ancient, curls through my thoughts.

I gasped, the sound echoing off the stone. The voice isn’t mine. It’s deeper—older. It hums in my blood, in my bones. My heart beats faster, heat flooding my veins.

For the first time since the rejection, I feel it again.

The fire.

It’s waiting.

The silence after Father leaves feels heavier than chains. It presses down on me, on my lungs. The torches sputter and die one by one, until I’m left with shadows and the sound of dripping water counting my breaths.

The silence was peaceful.

But then, I heard it — the sound of heels clicking against stone. Sharp. Confident. Meant to be heard.

Lucia.

Even before I saw her, I knew. The air changes. It smelled like rose oil and envy — sweet enough to rot.

She stopped in front of the cell, the torchlight clinging to her the way it always did to Father’s favorite child. Her hair glowed gold, her white cloak spotless against the filth around her. She looked like a savior descending into the dungeon — and she knew it.

“Well,” she says, her voice light, too casual. “The fallen Omega still breathes.”

My hands clench. “What do you want, Lucia?”

“To see the end of your little tragedy,” she replied. “They say Father plans to make it public. The cursed daughter who defied her Alpha and Goddess — what a story.”

I stayed silent, but she smiled wider, feeding off it.

“I thought I’d offer my condolences,” she continues, her tone dripping with poison. “After all, Damien and I will be mated tomorrow. I wouldn’t want you to think we forgot you.”

Her words land like claws. I forced myself to meet her eyes, calm, cold. “You always did like my leftovers.”

Lucia’s smile flickered — just for a heartbeat — before turning sharp again. “Leftovers? He was never yours, Serena. You were just… convenient. Someone for him to pity. A charity case.”

My chest tightens, heat crawling beneath my skin. “Say his name again,” I whispered.

She tilts her head, smirking. “Damien?”

Something snapped in me. The chains rattle as I took a step forward, but she didn’t flinch. She looked pleased.

“I hope you scream for him tomorrow,” she murmured. “When the flames rise. I’ll be in the front row. Maybe I’ll even wear the same dress I wore the night he chose me.”

“Does he know what you really are?” I asked, voice low and shaking. “A liar. A thief. A snake in Luna’s silk.”

Lucia laughs — soft, cruel. “He knows everything he needs to. I give him what you couldn’t — strength. Beauty. Hot body. Status. You were always a burden, Serena. Even Mother knew it.”

Her words strike deeper than claws ever could. I felt the ground tilt, my breath shaking, the darkness closing in — and then the warmth returns. That pulse of light inside me. Steady. Angry. Waiting.

Lucia notices the faint shimmer in my eyes and steps back, wary for the first time. “What are you smiling at?”

I lift my head, meeting her gaze through the bars. “If I could get another chance in this life…”

Her face pales, but she recovers with a scoff. “Delusions won’t save you.”

She turns sharply, cloak swirling behind her as she leaves. Her laughter echoes down the corridor, bright and hollow.

When the door slams shut, I let the mask slip. The tremor in my hands gives way to heat, to light, to fury that feels alive.

I look down at my wrists, at the faint ember flickering beneath my skin. The whispers return— low, ancient, female.

I closed my eyes, imagining the pains of being burnt alive that I had to go through at dawn.