THE BANISHED LUNA

**Chapter 2 — The Pull of the Moon** The night of the full moon always carried an unspoken weight in the Moonshadow Pack.Even the air felt different — sharper, sweeter, as if each breath was laced with something intoxicating. Wolves who were normally disciplined twitched with restless energy. Laughter rang louder, tempers flared quicker, and every eye seemed brighter under the silver light spilling from above.The entire pack had gathered in the open clearing, the ceremonial fire blazing at the center. The scent of roasted meat and spiced wine mingled with the wild, earthy perfume of the forest beyond the borders. Above us, the moon hung low and swollen, bathing everything in its ghostly glow.I stood at the edge of the grounds, clutching a tray of goblets filled with the elder’s spiced wine. My fingers itched with the urge to smooth my hair, but I didn’t dare draw attention to myself. Servants weren’t supposed to be noticed. We were shadows — silent, quick, forgettable.I told myse

Chapter 4 – The Fractured Bond**The world seemed to still in the moment after Damien’s words left his lips.Aria’s chest rose and fell sharply, the sting of his rejection not yet spoken but hanging in the air like the sword of Damocles. Her wolf whimpered, the sound reverberating in her mind, a raw, wounded cry that cut deeper than any physical wound.The crowd’s murmurs were a slow ripple at first, then an inevitable tide—hushed voices filled with disbelief, curiosity, and barely disguised anticipation. Some avoided her gaze. Others stared, eyes sharp and assessing, as though they were watching a slow execution.“Did you see that?” a voice whispered somewhere to the left.“He doesn’t even want her,” another murmured, almost gleeful.“She’s supposed to be Luna…” a woman’s voice trailed off, pity and scorn tangled together.Aria’s fingers curled into her palms until her nails dug crescents into her skin. The pain grounded her, but it also made the reality sharper.Damien’s golden eyes

**Chapter 6 – The cold clung to me when morning came. I had fallen asleep on the thin cot in the servants’ quarters, still in last night’s borrowed dress. The stiff embroidery pressed cruelly into my ribs, and my hair was a tangled mess, heavy with the faint scent of woodsmoke and spilled wine. For a moment, I almost believed it had been a dream. That I could rise, carry the laundry baskets, sweep the floors, and return to the quiet anonymity of my duties. But the ache in my chest reminded me—no, it had been real. The memory of his voice was sharp and unyielding. The way he had looked through me rather than at me. Around me, the other servants were already moving about, their voices low, their eyes sliding away whenever mine tried to meet them. No one asked how I slept. No one offered a word. It wasn’t kindness—it was the silence of those who didn’t want to be pulled into the wake of someone else’s ruin. When I stepped into the main hall to begin my duties, the atmosphere shift

Chapter 8The morning sun offered no warmth. The frost in the air clung to Aria Vale’s skin like the lingering whispers of the night before—whispers she couldn’t stop hearing even in the deepest corners of the servant’s quarters. Her hands trembled slightly as she tied her hair back, more to keep it from falling in her face than out of any real intent to look presentable. She hadn’t slept. Every blink brought back the moment in the Hall, Damien’s voice cold as a blade, slicing away her worth with a single rejection.And worse—he hadn’t faltered once.By now, the pack’s gossip had transformed from murmurs into a steady hum, like a swarm of wasps that would not die down. Even the other servants spoke in quieter tones when she walked past, and that was saying something. Her name was no longer simply Aria. It was “the servant mate.” “The rejected one.”A folded parchment had arrived that morning.No crest, no formal seal—just her name written in a sharp hand. She hadn’t opened it yet, but

Chapter 10 – The Wolf with Silver EyesThe black wolf moved without sound, his paws pressing into the snow so lightly that he seemed to glide rather than step. Aria followed, her breath ragged in the frigid air, each exhale forming clouds that clung to her face before dispersing into the night.Her legs burned. Her ribs ached from the fall. But the silver-eyed stranger didn’t slow—not once.Serena growled low inside her mind, not in warning, but in a kind of reluctant awe. This one is dangerous… and yet I do not feel he means us harm.That was far from comforting.The trees closed around them, their branches interlacing like skeletal fingers, blotting out what little moonlight remained. It was darker here, heavier. Even the air felt thicker, as if the land itself resented intruders.She didn’t ask where they were going. She doubted he would answer. Still, questions clawed at her.Who was he?Why had he helped her?And why… why did those eyes feel so achingly familiar?When they finall