The Luna of Death

Nitkita's pov

The grand hall of our ancestral mansion was opulent, draped in the deepest crimson tapestries and illuminated by the flickering light of golden chandeliers. It felt both majestic and intimidating. My parents, the formidable Alpha Vladimir and Luna Katarina, sat alongside me at the head of the room. I was only a child at six years old.

Father's eyes were a glacier of contempt as the doors to the grand hall creaked open. A frail figure stepped inside, his posture slumped as if bearing the weight of the world. His name was Alpha Dominic, the leader of a small, faltering pack on the outskirts of our territory. His eyes darted nervously but determinedly around the room until they landed on my father's face.

"Alpha Vladimir," he began, his voice quivering with desperation, "I come to you in dire need. My pack is on the verge of annihilation. The Rogues... they are merciless."

Father raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his gilded chair. Mother remained unperturbed, her eyes fixed vacantly on the flames dancing in the hearth. My heartbeat quickened as I awaited my father's response.

"And what," Father drawled, smirking coldly, "could you possibly offer me in return for my help?"

Dominic's shoulders sagged further, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I... I have nothing. Our pack is small, but we pledge our loyalty, our undying gratitude."

Father threw his head back and laughed, a sound that echoed ominously through the hall. "Gratitude? Loyalty? Mere words from a dying man."

Dominic fell to his knees, his hands clasped together in supplication. "Please, Alpha Vladimir, I beg you. We need your strength."

It was then that I noticed Father's smirk fade into a look of pure derision. He signalled to his guards. "Remove this pathetic excuse for an Alpha from my presence."

As the guards seized Dominic, he shrieked something incoherent, a chant of sorts. It was unsettling, like a sinister melody whispered in the wind. Father's face twisted in fury. He sprang from his chair, crossing the floor in swift, angry strides, and delivered a hard slap that echoed like a gunshot.

"Magic is forbidden in my pack!" Father roared. "How dare you!"

Dominic looked up, fire blazing in his eyes as he spat out through a bloodied lip, "I have cursed your lineage, so the world will never endure your cruel habits. Your line ends here."

For a moment, a chilling silence enveloped the hall. I could feel my heart thudding in my chest, my hands growing cold. I had no idea what the man was talking about, but there was something in his tone that set an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Father's eyes widened only slightly; fear was a foreign concept to him. But I saw it. Just a flicker. His voice trembled as he commanded, "Take him to the cells. He will be executed at first light."

As the guards started dragging Dominic away, he turned his head, locking eyes with me. "Hold her tight, Alpha Vladimir," he hissed. "Tonight will be the last time you ever touch your daughter."

The air seemed to turn to ice, freezing the breath in my lungs. Mother's hand gripped mine so tightly that it hurt. This was not mere desperation or empty threats; Dominic's words carried the weight of something dark and irrevocable.

Father waved dismissively as the doors closed behind the struggling Alpha, then turned to face us. His visage was calm again, as though none of it had happened. "Nikita, my dear, there is no need for alarm. Such threats are born of despair."

I believed my father's words because he had always done everything in his power to protect me. He was a cruel and ruthless leader, but he was a kind and caring father who only ever let his walls down in front of my mother and me. 

As the grand hall grew silent once more. I sat there a little longer, but a wave of dizziness washed over me. My vision blurred, and I felt a sudden, sharp pang in my stomach. I turned to Mother, my voice barely a whisper. "Mother, I don't feel well."

Concern flashed across Mother’s face. Without hesitation, she rose and guided me out of the hall, her hand warm and reassuring against my back. "Let's get you to bed, darling," she murmured, her voice laced with worry.

As we made our way to my room, the dizziness intensified. By the time we reached my bed, my skin felt like it was on fire, my temperature spiking rapidly. Mother tucked me under the heavy, silk-covered blankets, her movements quick and efficient, but I could see the fear in her eyes.

"Just rest, my sweet girl," she coaxed, brushing a cool hand against my fevered forehead. But as the minutes passed, my condition worsened, my body wracked with violent shivers. Mother's composure began to crack. She turned sharply toward the door and called out to the guards stationed outside. "Fetch Alpha Vladimir. Hurry!"

The urgency in her voice penetrated my daze. I fought to stay conscious, my thoughts a jumble of fear and confusion. Something wasn't right. Mother knelt by my side, her face close to mine, her breath warm against my cheek. "Hold on, Nikita. Your father will know what to do."

Father stormed into the room, his presence commanding as always, but Mother’s words halted him in his tracks. “Vladimir, something is wrong. The curse—Dominic’s words. Nikita’s eyes—they’re no longer blue. They’re black.”

Father turned to her, his expression shifting from concern to cold fury. He grabbed her arm, dragging her from my bedside. “Stop this nonsense, Katarina," he hissed. “There is no curse. She’s just ill; she’ll recover.”

“But look at her! This is not normal. You saw what he did; you heard his words—” she pleaded, her voice breaking.

“Enough!” Father’s command was like a lash. “You will not let his lies poison our minds any further.” He yanked her to the door, slamming it shut behind them. Their muffled argument continued, the tension palpable even through the thick wood.

I could hear Mother’s desperate whispers. “Her eyes, Vladimir, they’ve changed. They’re black as night. This is not a mere illness.”

“With time, she will be fine,” Father insisted, his voice a mix of irritation and something else... was it doubt?

After what felt like an eternity, the door creaked open again. Father entered the room alone, his expression softened as he approached my bed. Sitting beside me, he took my small hand in his. "Sleep, my princess," he whispered, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead. “Tomorrow, you will feel better. I promise.”

His words were soothing, but as I drifted into a feverish sleep, Dominic's ominous pronouncement echoed in my mind. Would I ever wake up to see another day? Or was this just the beginning of our ruin? The darkness enveloped me, pulling me into a restless slumber filled with shadows and whispers.