The Twin Curse: Rebirth Of The Forsaken

"Move!" one of the guards shouted as he yanked Freya’s arm.

The chains around her wrists clanked as they dragged her out of the west wing like an animal. Her feet scraped against the floor, but she didn’t fight. What was the point?

She was already marked.

They didn’t care if the chains hurt. They didn’t care that she was shaking. They pulled her through the long hallway without a single word of kindness.

The heavy doors of the council hall opened.

Voices went silent.

Almost everyone from the pack was there. Elders. Warriors. Servants. Even children. All eyes turned to her.

The girl in chains.

The cursed one.

They dragged her to the center of the room. She could feel their stares burning into her skin. Like she was a monster.

The elders sat above the crowd, looking down at her from their high seats. They looked calm. Cold. Like they had been waiting for this moment.

The head elder stood up.

"You’ve always been a cursed child, Freya," he said loudly. "From the moment you were born under the blood moon, we knew trouble would follow."

His voice echoed in the room.

"Today, you turn eighteen. And we’ve decided—you will be exiled permanently."

Something inside her snapped. But she kept her head down. She bit her lip so hard she could taste blood. Tears stung her eyes, and no matter how hard she tried, they still fell.

"If you’re ever seen near this palace again," the elder said, his voice like stone, "you won’t like what happens."

Freya didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her mouth was dry. Her heart was too heavy. She just stood there, chained and broken, waiting for the final words.

But then—

"Wait!" a loud voice boomed behind them.

She turned slowly, confused.

Her heart dropped.

It was Fenrir.

Her twin brother.

His voice shook the hall. People turned to look at him as he walked in like he owned the place. Behind him, two guards dragged someone between them.

Her eyes widened.

Lylah.

"No!" she cried out. She tried to run toward her, but the chains jerked her back. "Let her go! What are you doing?"

Lylah looked weak. Her hair was messy, her dress wrinkled. Her knees scraped the floor as the guards pushed her forward.

She was scared. Freya could see it in her eyes.

"What is this?" Freya shouted. "Why is she here?"

Fenrir walked closer, a small grin on his face. He didn’t look at her like a brother should. He looked at her like a hunter who had caught his prey.

"Don’t act so surprised, Freya," he said. "This is exactly where she needs to be."

Freya’s stomach turned. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Lylah was forced to her knees right beside her. Freya bent forward, the chains clinking again, and touched her arm.

"Lylah… are you okay?" she asked. "What happened? Why are you here?"

Lylah looked up at her, eyes wide and tired.

"I don’t know, Freya," she said. "Your brother came to my house with guards. They dragged me... they didn’t even explain why."

Freya looked up at Fenrir.

"What is the meaning of this?" she asked, voice shaking. "Why are you doing this?"

He laughed.

"Oh, come on. You’re pretending now?" he said. "You’re good at that."

He turned to face the elders.

"You all think she’s only guilty of being cursed?" Fenrir said. "Well, think again. Freya has committed a sin much worse than that."

Gasps filled the room.

Even their parents looked confused.

"What do you mean, Fenrir?" their mother asked, standing up.

Fenrir didn’t answer her. He just smiled and walked closer to Freya.

He was enjoying this.

He turned to the council and raised his voice so everyone could hear.

"My sister and Lylah have committed a sin far worse than exile. They’ve been practicing forbidden moon magic. Sorcery."

The crowd gasped.

"What?" Freya breathed. "That’s not true!"

He kept going. "Freya learned it from Lylah. Everyone knows Lylah’s bloodline is tied to ancient moon spirits. I saw them sneaking around at night. Whispering. I even found proof."

Guards came forward, holding objects in their hands.

"There," Fenrir pointed. "Broken stones marked with cursed runes. A hidden book beneath Freya’s mattress. And this—" he held up a flower, glowing faintly, "a moon-blessed flower, hidden in Lylah’s bag. It only blooms during dark rituals."

She shook her head. "No. That’s not real. Lylah never—she never taught me anything. I would never do such a thing. I know it's forbidden. I would never."

Her father stood. "Really? Then how do you explain the evidence?"

She turned to her mother, praying she’d speak. But her mother looked away.

"Lylah," she whispered.

Lylah slowly stood, even with the guards beside her.

"Fenrir," she said, her voice sharp, "this is where your lust got you? You framed your own sister and me just because I refused you? You planted fake evidence, and now you're lying to all of them?"

"Silence!" one of the elders shouted. "You will not speak to the future Alpha like that!"

But Lylah didn’t flinch. She looked the elder straight in the eye.

"This tribe... this so-called noble clan... is the most despicable I’ve ever known. You believe lies just because your precious prince told them."

Freya’s father stepped forward, calm, cold.

"I don’t care what you say. Forbidden magic is forbidden. The law is clear."

He looked at them both. His voice was final.

"I hereby sentence you to death. By stone."

The room erupted into whispers. Shock. Fear.

"What are you saying?!" Freya cried. "Dad—she didn’t do anything! She’s innocent!"

Two guards stepped forward and grabbed them. She struggled, screamed, kicked—but they didn’t stop.

They dragged them to the sacred moonstone, the heart of the tribe.

The guards stepped away.

Her father’s eyes locked on hers.

There was nothing in them. No love. No mercy. Just cold and hard like stone.

"Proceed," he said.

Freya froze.

"No—wait!" she screamed, panic rising in her throat. "Please! She’s innocent! She didn’t do anything!"

But no one listened.

The silence broke with a sharp, sickening sound.

Thud.

The first stone hit Lylah’s shoulder.

She cried out in pain, her body jerking from the force.

Freya’s heart stopped.

"No!" she screamed again, louder this time.

She didn’t think—she moved.

The chains dragged against her skin as she stepped in front of Lylah.

Another stone flew.

This time, it hit Freya.

Right in the back.

Then another.

And another.

The crowd didn’t stop. Stones came from all directions. Hard. Fast. Angry.

Each one felt like fire against her skin.

She clenched her teeth, trying not to scream. Her legs shook, but she didn’t fall. She had to protect her. She had to.

"Stay down!" she whispered to Lylah behind her. "Don’t move."

Another rock slammed into her side. Then her ribs. Her cheek.

Blood poured down her face, warm and thick. Her knees gave out, and she collapsed in front of Lylah, arms barely able to hold herself up.

But still—she didn’t move away.

She couldn’t let them hit Lylah again.

Her body felt heavy. Too heavy.

She could barely breathe. Her skin burned. Everything ached.

Then she felt Lylah fall beside her.

They lay opposite each other, their faces inches apart.

Blood dripped from Lylah’s mouth.

She tried to say something. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

Tears filled Freya’s eyes, mixing with the blood on her face.

She reached out, barely able to lift her hand, and touched Lylah’s fingers.

More stones hit. She didn’t feel them anymore.

Her world was fading.

Her last thought was of her.

Of how she couldn’t save her.

And then—darkness.

Everything went black.