THE REJECTED LUNA IS BACK

CAMILA

The altar was meant to be the beginning of my forever.

Instead, it became the place where I was left to die.

The ceremonial hall was empty.

No guests.

No elders.

No witnesses.

Only rows of half-burned candles lining the stone walls, their flames flickering weakly as melted wax pooled at their bases. Smoke hung in the air, heavy and bitter, clinging to my lungs with every shallow breath I took. The vast space echoed with nothing but my own uneven breathing, each sound swallowed by the ancient stone.

I stood alone at the center of the altar.

Barefoot. Human. Trembling.

The ritual circle beneath me glowed a faint, merciless blue, carved with runes I didn’t fully understand—symbols meant for wolves, for sacred bonds, for beings far stronger than I would ever be. They pulsed slowly, rhythmically, as if the floor itself had a heartbeat.

Or perhaps it was syncing with mine.

Sebastian’s hand had been in mine only moments ago.

I could still feel the ghost of his touch—warm, steady, reassuring. When he looked at me earlier, I had believed him. I had believed every promise, every gentle word, every glance that made me feel like I belonged in a world that had never wanted me.

He told me he would return before the moon reached its peak.

He never did.

At first, I waited.

Surely this was a mistake. A delay. A test of nerves. He wouldn’t leave me here. Not like this. Not knowing what the ritual would do to a human body without a bonded partner to anchor it.

Minutes passed.

The silence grew heavier.

The candles crackled softly, mocking my hope.

That was when the pain began.

It started as pressure—an invisible force pushing inward, crushing my chest as if my ribs were folding into my heart. My breath hitched sharply. I tried to inhale, but the air felt thick, uncooperative, like I was drowning on dry land.

My heart slammed violently against my ribs.

Once.

Twice.

Then again—each beat sending searing pain through my veins.

I staggered, my knees buckling as I dropped to the cold stone floor. The chill bit into my skin, but it barely registered compared to the fire tearing through my chest. My fingers clawed at the ground, nails scraping uselessly against ancient stone as if I could somehow pull myself out of the ritual circle.

“Sebastian…” I whispered.

No answer came.

The ritual didn’t stop.

The runes flared brighter, reacting to the absence of the groom—the missing anchor, the broken bond. Magic surged violently through the circle, unforgiving and indiscriminate. Fire and ice collided inside my chest, twisting around my heart with brutal precision.

It didn’t care that I was human.

It didn’t care that my body was weaker, my blood mundane.

It only knew that I had been left unfinished.

Every breath burned.

Every heartbeat screamed.

Tears streamed down my face as my vision blurred, shadows bleeding into one another. The emptiness of the hall pressed down on me, vast and suffocating. No footsteps rushed toward me. No voices called my name.

I was alone.

Completely, utterly alone.

I collapsed fully onto the altar floor, curling in on myself as the pain intensified. My body shook uncontrollably, muscles spasming as the magic tore through me, punishing me for a bond that had been broken before it could be completed.

I had trusted him.

I had loved him.

And he had walked away, leaving me here to suffer the consequences in silence.

Just as the darkness began to creep in at the edges of my vision, something changed.

The pain didn’t disappear—but it faltered, as if interrupted.

A presence pressed into the hall, massive and overwhelming, bending the air around it. The candle flames shuddered violently, several snuffing out at once, plunging parts of the chamber into shadow.

This wasn’t the ritual.

This was something else.

I felt it before I saw it—a power so ancient it made my bones ache, so vast it stole what little breath I had left. The stone beneath me vibrated faintly, as if the world itself recognized what had entered.

A figure emerged from the darkness.

Tall. Commanding. Unmistakable.

He moved as if the shadows belonged to him, as if the hall itself bowed to his presence. His gaze found me instantly, sharp and absolute, pinning me in place even as I lay broken on the floor.

I wanted to recoil.

I couldn’t move.

“Poor you....everyone seems to left you dying here Camila....” he said.

His voice was low, resonant, carrying through the empty hall like a decree. It settled deep in my chest, vibrating against my shattered heartbeat.

I couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe.

“You were abandoned at a sacred altar,” he continued calmly, almost coldly. " You're mine now....”

The words sent a shiver through my trembling body.

I didn’t understand. I didn’t have the strength to question him, to deny him, to beg. My world had narrowed to pain, betrayal, and this impossibly powerful being standing before me as if he had always been meant to find me here.

Darkness closed in, heavy and inevitable.

As my consciousness slipped away, one broken thought echoed in my mind:

How did I end up like this?

To understand that—

We have to go back a few years.