Chapter 2

Zirelle's POV

It’s true that I bear seven dark powers within me, but I have never used them to hurt anyone.

In truth, I don’t even know how to control my powers.

My mother always warned me never to use my magic, fearing it would scare others and draw unwanted attention. Because of this, I grew up as a weak wolf, barely able to shift.

She told me my powers were cursed, and if the Alpha ever discovered that I was a descendant of the long-lost Moonclaw bloodline, my fate would be sealed—I’d be executed without hesitation.

My mother devoted her entire life to shielding me from the outside world, hiding my powers from everyone.

No one knew about my abilities except for my parents. So how does Uncle Garrick know?

The pack’s soldiers came to drag me out of the house, their rough hands gripping my arms. I screamed, begged, and cried, but my pleas fell on deaf ears.

Just as they were about to hang me, Uncle Garrick suddenly stepped forward.

“But she’s a healer, Alpha!” Garrick declared.

A murmur rippled through the crowd.

“What?” the Alpha growled, narrowing his eyes.

“She’s not just a healer,” Garrick continued, stepping closer. “She’s capable of bringing a dying man back to life.”

The Alpha raised a hand, signaling the soldiers to pause. “Prove it.”

Garrick didn’t hesitate. He unsheathed the sword at his side and grabbed a young boy from the crowd. Without warning, he plunged the blade into the boy’s stomach.

Gasps erupted all around. The boy fell to the ground, blood pooling beneath him.

Garrick strode over to me, grabbed me by my hair, and yanked me forward. He leaned down, his voice a venomous whisper.

“Heal him now, or you’ll die by that rope,” he hissed. “I’m trying to save your sorry life, so you better cooperate!”

He shoved me to the ground beside the boy, who was gasping for air, his trembling hand clutching at the wound.

I stared at the boy, panic and confusion surging through me. I had no idea how to heal someone—I’d never used my powers before.

“Do it!” Garrick barked, his voice cutting through my fear like a whip.

The boy’s lips moved weakly, his voice a faint whisper. “P-please… don’t let me die.”

“You’ll live,” I whispered back, though I had no idea how to make it true.

And then it happened.

A blinding light burst from within me, surging outward and enveloping the boy. The crowd shielded their eyes, the brightness too intense to look at.

When the light finally dimmed, the boy sat upright, clutching his stomach in disbelief. The wound was gone.

I stared, shocked. I hadn’t even touched him. How had I done that? All I remembered saying was, “You’ll live.”

The Alpha’s gaze was a mix of awe and suspicion.

“She’ll serve as our healer,” he finally commanded. “But she’s cursed and dangerous. Chain her up and take her to the dungeon. She’ll stay there, where she belongs.”

The dungeon was a place of nightmares, hidden deep in the forest under a cursed, forbidden tree.

It was fortified with nine solid iron doors—impenetrable barriers designed to ensure no one could escape.

The soldiers dragged me through each door, their heavy metal clangs echoing in the cold, damp air. Finally, they threw me into a dark, freezing cell and sealed the last door behind them.

The dungeon was infested with fat, black rats, and the only water I had was from the condensation that dripped from the ceiling.

The first night passed. Uncle Garrick didn’t come for me.

The second night, still no sign of him.

I held on to hope that he’d come on the third night, but it was just another cruel delusion.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years.

They barely fed me—leftovers meant for the dogs, tossed into my cell twice a week. To survive, I began catching and eating the rats that scurried through the darkness.

Whenever someone in the pack was injured, the soldiers would unlock the iron doors, drag me out to heal them, and then throw me back into my cell like discarded trash.

Today marks five years since I was thrown into this hellhole.

I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve begged the Moon Goddess to take my life, but my prayers always went unanswered.

I tried to end my life several times, but no matter what I did, I couldn’t die.

The girl I once was—the hopeful, bright-eyed Zirelle—was gone. All that remained was a broken shell.

I was crouched in a corner, watching a rat hole, hoping to catch my next meal, when the iron doors creaked open.

The soldiers were here again. Someone must need healing.

Two soldiers entered, their faces twisted with disgust as they grabbed my frail, skeletal body and dragged me out of the cell.

I heard them talking as they carried me.

“Looks like it’s a high-ranking Alpha this time,” one muttered. “From a wealthy pack.”

“Better make sure she doesn’t mess this up,” the other grumbled.

They tossed me to the ground in front of the injured man, and I landed with a weak thud.

I raised my head, and my heart stopped.

Even through my clouded memories and broken spirit, I recognized him.

It was him—the stranger I had stolen from five years ago. The man who had found me in the forest.

The man I woke up next to, naked.

He didn’t recognize me, of course. How could he? I looked nothing like the girl he had saved.

I was just a walking skeleton now, barely human.

He stared at me with disgust, his nose wrinkling.

“Don’t let her touch me,” he growled. “She stinks.”

Blood poured from his wound, staining the ground beneath him. He winced in pain but continued to glare at me.

The soldiers urged him. “She’s the only healer we have. Let her do it, or you’ll die.”

He hesitated, then reluctantly nodded.

The cut wasn’t deep, so the healing was quick. As soon as I was done, the soldiers began dragging me back.

But then he spoke.

“Why does she look like that?” he asked, his tone sharp.

“She’s a monk,” one soldier lied. “She doesn’t eat much. Says it’s part of her rituals.”

He didn’t seem convinced. His eyes lingered on me as they dragged me away.

I couldn’t help but wonder—did he remember something? Could I have begged him to save me?

But what would have been the point?

I was a prisoner of fate, trapped in a never-ending nightmare.