Chapter 5

Luna's POV

The first thing I see when I open my eyes is them.

Dominic. Alex. Liam.

Their faces flash through my mind, but it's not just their expressions from yesterday—it's the way Liam kissed me. The memory burns at the edges of my thoughts, unwelcome yet persistent. I shouldn't be thinking about it, but my lips still tingle with the phantom pressure of his.

How come I can't seem to let go of the memory? Throughout last night, that's what kept looming through my mind, and this morning too.

I wonder what prompted him to kiss me.

I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the thoughts. It doesn't matter. None of this matters. I just need to move on.

But I can't. I can't seem to forget about everything.

Something holds me back, something I can't quite name. Fear? Uncertainty? Or maybe it's the fact that I saw my nails elongate yesterday, a part of my body shifting into something other than human. I touch my fingers now, half-expecting them to change again, but they look normal. For now.

A sigh slips past my lips as I force myself up and get ready for training. It's the only thing I can do—keep moving, keep pretending I'm fine.

Stepping onto the field, I try to push everything out of my mind. The team is already gathering, stretching, talking, and laughing as if nothing is wrong. I blend in with them, staying quiet as we begin our morning warm-ups.

I try my best to ignore the three stars. It's not the best time to give them the looks they want. They're not human.

I convince myself that I am, and what happened yesterday? It's just an illusion.

The coach arrives with his usual morning greeting, and after a short exercise, we're divided into teams.

I'm on the same team as Liam. I try hard to stay far from him.

The game starts, and the moment my feet hit the field, my body feels alive. Every movement is sharper, faster, stronger. The stick feels light in my grip as I move through the drills, weaving effortlessly between the opponents. When the ball comes my way, I don't hesitate. I don't hold onto the ball—I strike.

The shot flies past the goalkeeper and lands perfectly in the net.

Everyone just stares at me.

My teammates look stunned, their mouths slightly open. Even the coach looks taken aback, though his expression returns to normal immediately.

I blink. Did I just do that?

I should be used to it by now, but no, this feels different. My movement is too perfect.

The rest of the training session is the same. Every move I make feels right, like my body knows something I don't. I play like I've never played before, moving with a speed and power that isn't mine.

When training ends, I wipe sweat from my forehead, catching my breath. But before I can properly rest, I see Dominic and Alex approaching.

I look away, pretending I don't see them coming until they stop in front of me and tap my shoulder lightly.

I turn to them with a neutral expression, bracing myself for whatever they have to say.

At first, they're polite. Dominic asks how I'm feeling. Alex gives a small nod, acting as if yesterday never happened. But there's something off about their smiles, as if they're forcing themselves to communicate with me.

"We reject you."

And just like that, they say it in unison.

The words are blunt. Cold.

A murmur spreads through the team. Some chuckle under their breath, others openly laugh, like this is some big joke. I can feel their amusement wrapping around me, waiting for me to break.

But I don't.

I don't flinch, don't react.

I don't care about mates.

I don't believe in whatever bullshit that means.

I never have.

The only reason I'm still here is because I don't want to give up, not now that everything has started changing. I have to make a name for myself. I'm just an orphan who needs to be known worldwide, so whatever their bullshit means has nothing to do with me.

I know that's been my dream since I knew about hockey, but they're not human and that makes us different.

I'm not ready to accept that I'm one of them.

Dominic and Alex watch me for a moment, as if expecting something more, but when I stay silent, they turn and walk away.

I expect Liam to do the same, to come up and say the words that will sever whatever invisible bond is supposed to tie us together.

But he doesn't.

He just stands there, watching me from a distance, his expression unreadable.

***

The next day arrives faster than I expected.

Today is the match. The real test.

We're playing against the River Fang team, one of the strongest teams in history. The pressure is heavy, and I wonder if I'll get the chance to stand on the field to play.

I get dressed quickly, forcing myself into focus mode.

Outside, the bus is already waiting, and I climb in, finding my seat.

Unfortunately, I end up next to Liam.

Neither of us speaks. The entire ride is silent, aside from the murmurs of our teammates and the coach's voice as he gives his usual pre-game speech.

I try not to focus on Liam's presence beside me, but it's impossible to ignore his warmth, his steady breathing, and the way his arm brushes against mine whenever the bus jolts.

When we arrive, everything moves quickly. The changing rooms, the final instructions, then the announcement of the team.

I'll be playing as the striker.

The reaction is immediate. The team doesn't look happy except for Cassie.

I hear a few muttered complaints and see the glances exchanged, but no one dares to argue with the coach.

"We move fast," the coach tells us. "Don't hold onto the ball for too long. Pass quickly, keep moving."

We nod, but I can still feel the doubt in the air.

Can I do this? Play among the stars while everyone sits and watches?

It feels so unreal!

The time comes.

Stepping onto the field, my heart pounds. The umpire blows the whistle, and the match begins.

Something feels wrong with me, but I ignore it at first.

Maybe it's just nervousness.

But the moment I grip my stick, my fingers tremble. My body feels off. Weak.

I shake my head, trying to focus, but the moment the ball is passed to me, an opponent charges.

I barely move before I fall.

No one even touches me.

I hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from my lungs.

The other team takes advantage immediately, scoring a goal while I struggle to push myself up.

I can't move.

My limbs feel heavy, like I'm sinking into the field. My heart pounds rapidly, but it's not from exhaustion. I feel like my old self.

The one who finds it hard to hold sticks or even dribble for a second.

I feel so, so weak.