บททั้งหมดของ Luna's Awakening: She Rose From The Flames: บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 5

The fire was still only a rumor, but I could already smell the smoke of it in their eyes.The ballroom throbbed with music and gold light, the pack gathered to witness the ceremony that should have been mine. I stood at the edge of it all, dressed in the rags I called clothes, because I had found the beautiful dress I wanted to wear for my ceremony torn to shreds earlier today. My pulse was loud enough to drown out the violins.Damien—my fated mate, my promise of forever—was walking down the aisle towards my sister.Lucia glowed. Her white dress shimmered like frost, her smile sharpened by triumph. The pack cheered as if betrayal were a festival.Every rule of the Moon’s order said a bond couldn’t break once sealed. Yet here we were, rewriting the Goddess’s laws because my father willed it so. Because an omega daughter brought him shame.Damien’s eyes found mine only once. Guilt flickered, then it was gone, replaced by the calm mask of an Alpha accepting his prize. My stomach twisted.

The dawn peeks through the trees in cold, hesitant shafts, silver and cruel. It reveals nothing of comfort—only the forest, indifferent, silent, waiting. The memory of the pyre claws at me—the searing pain, the laughter of those who thought to see me die, the venom in Lucia’s eyes. I taste it again: the smoke, the fire, the betrayal. And with it comes fury, pure and unfiltered, coiled in my chest like a beast scratching at the cage of my ribs.I pushed forward, dragging my body over roots and stones, feeling the cold bite through scorched flesh, hearing the whisper grow louder. It pulses in time with my heartbeat, a warning, a promise. Not yet. Wait. Strike.A rustle.I freeze. The forest seems to inhale with me. Somewhere ahead, hidden in shadow, they move—rogue scouts from Bluemoon Pack. Sent to confirm my death. Sent to ensure my silence. My body tightens, every nerve screaming. And then, instinct takes over.They don’t see me at first—my hair matted with ash, my skin streaked wit

The first light of dawn filtered through the dense forest, catching on Serena’s charred hair like strands of molten copper. Her body ached in ways that reminded her she had been broken, reduced to ash—but the fire inside her was no longer a whisper; it was a pulse, a living current racing through every vein. She moved on all fours at first, limbs stiff, skin scorched, senses raw and overfull. Every scent, every sound, every shift of the wind was amplified, almost unbearably so.The forest was quiet in the way it held its breath, as if it too had felt the fire that had roared through the pyre. Smoke rose in faint, curling tendrils from the underbrush, the faintest echo of the destruction she had survived. Hunger gnawed at her stomach, but the flame inside would not let her pause for weakness. Every step she took left a faint ember footprint, a silent warning that the child who had been burned was no longer small, no longer human in the way the world remembered.Ahead, figures moved—rog