Chapter 1: The Silver Blade and Crimson Tears

​Thalia’s POV

​The warm rush of my own blood coating my neck was the last thing I felt.

​"Let her bleed out," a voice I knew all too well echoed through the freezing altar room. It sounded so calm. So effortless.

​It was Vance. My mate. My Alpha. The man who had held me every single night for three years, whispering that he loved me even though I was just a packless human.

​I tried to breathe, but my throat choked on a thick, copper-tasting fluid. My dimming vision stared at the stone ceiling of the Crescent Pack’s ancient altar. Both of my hands were chained with heavy iron to the corners of the sacrificial table, pinning me down like a broken doll. My bare chest heaved brutally, desperate for oxygen that never came.

​"Vance... wh-why..." The whisper barely left my lips, shattered by the deep gash across my throat.

​A shadow stepped closer to the stone table. Vance stood there, his black Alpha robes radiating power, contrasting sharply with my white dress, which was now soaked a deep crimson. His handsome face showed absolutely no remorse. Beside him, a woman with long blonde hair wrapped her arm possessively around his waist.

​Elena. My best friend. The woman who had spent years pitying my human status.

​"You played your part beautifully, Thalia," Vance said, his voice as cold as ice. He reached out, gently stroking Elena’s blonde hair. "A human could never truly stand as Luna by my side. You were just a shield. The council of elders has been targeting me for a year, wanting my Alpha seat. I thought you were smart enough to notice, but you were completely blinded by love."

​"She’s too stupid, Vance," Elena giggled, her high-pitched, spoiled voice piercing straight into my chest like a needle. "She actually believed you locked her in her room during pack meetings to 'protect' her. She had no idea you were marking my skin in the very next room."

​My heart felt like it was being ripped out of my chest. The agony of this betrayal burned hotter than the silver blade Vance had used to slice my throat. All this time, I thought my isolation was his way of protecting a fragile human from wolf politics. I thought the council's glares were a test we had to face together.

​Turns out, I was just a lamb fattened for the slaughter.

​"This blood ritual will transfer the dormant ancestral energy in your human blood straight into Elena," Vance explained in a monotone voice, as if discussing the weather. "Her wolf will evolve into an Alpha female. Our position will be untouchable."

​"Vance, look at her. She’s still staring at you like you're her whole world," Elena mocked, her green eyes flashing with triumph. "Disgusting. Die faster, Thalia. You’re ruining our coronation altar."

​I wanted to scream. I wanted to tear Elena’s face apart with my fingernails. I wanted to smash that arrogant smile off Vance's face. But my body refused to move. Blood poured from my neck, flowing into the grooved runes of the altar, lighting up the floor in a sickening purple-red glow.

​I hate them. I hate my own stupidity.

​If the Moon Goddess truly exists... if fate has any justice left... give me a second chance to burn them to the ground.

​"Goodbye, Thalia," Vance whispered for the last time. He turned away, pulling Elena into his arms without bothering to watch my final breath.

​My vision went completely pitch-black. The cold grip of death dragged my soul into a bottomless void. The physical pain vanished, replaced by a rage so thick, so pitch-black, that it set my entire consciousness on fire.

​Gasp!

​Air suddenly slammed into my lungs like a sledgehammer.

​I bolted upright, gasping greedily for air as my hands flying frantically to my throat. No blood. My skin was completely intact. No deep gash, no burning agony of silver.

​My heart hammered violently against my ribs, sending a roaring sound through my ears. I blinked through the panic, scanning my surroundings. This wasn't a cold stone altar. This was my old wooden bed, with cheap linen sheets smelling faintly of vanilla. Morning sunlight poured through the cracked window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air.

​I held up both hands. No heavy iron chains. My skin was smooth, free of the scars I had accumulated during the pack wars two years later.

​I scrambled out of bed, my bare feet shaking violently against the cold wooden floorboards. I sprinted toward the small vanity mirror in the corner of the room.

​The woman in the glass stared back at me with wide, horrified eyes. It was me, but younger. My cheeks were a bit plumper, and the deep, stress-induced dark circles under my eyes hadn't appeared yet. I was wearing the simple linen nightgown I used to wear before Vance moved me into the Alpha’s main estate.

​My eyes darted to the small wooden calendar hanging by the mirror.

​May 14th.

​The breath caught in my throat. This was exactly one year before the night of the sacrifice. More specifically, this was the exact day Vance was supposed to announce our betrothal at the pack’s grand banquet tonight. The very day my living hell began in my past life.

​I touched the cold glass of the mirror, slowly letting a dark, vicious smile spread across my lips. The tears of terror dried instantly, replaced by the burning fire of absolute vengeance.

​"You want that throne so badly, Vance?" I whispered into the quiet room, my voice sounding foreign—sharp, cold, and dripping with venom. "I’m going to make sure you choke on the ashes."

​Suddenly, a loud, demanding knock pounded on my door, shattering the silence.

​"Thalia! Why the hell aren't you ready yet?" Elena’s high-pitched voice whined from the other side. "Alpha Vance already sent over your banquet dress. Open the door, hurry up!"

​Hearing that voice made my blood run freezing cold, but my hands stopped shaking. This time, the story wouldn't end the same way. I walked toward the door with my head held high, ready to greet my first prey.