All Chapters of THE REJECTED LUNA IS BACK : Chapter 1 - Chapter 9

CAMILAThe 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, reas

CAMILABy the time the first bell rang, I already understood one thing clearly.Lunaris Academy was beautiful—but it was not kind.The classroom was carved from pale stone and dark wood, sunlight filtering through tall arched windows etched with ancient runes. Desks were arranged in tiers, each seat engraved with symbols tied to a student’s race. Wolves sat together, radiating confidence. Fairies hovered near perches built into the walls. Witches clustered with stacks of spellbooks. Vampires lingered at the back, half in shadow.And me?I was seated alone.My desk was smaller, plainer. No runes. No magic-etched surface. Just wood.Human accommodations.I swallowed and straightened my spine, refusing to shrink.Professor Aurelion entered without sparing me a glance. He was a wolf—silver hair, sharp eyes, authority etched into every movement. The room quieted instantly.“Open your core texts,” he ordered.A ripple of movement followed. Heavy tomes thudded onto desks. Books bound in leat

CAMILAI thought dating Sebastian would make me really happy. I had imagined it countless times in my head—walking together in the gardens, laughing at the little things, maybe even feeling like I belonged somewhere for once. And at first, it was bliss. For the first time in my life, I felt warmth that wasn’t fleeting. He noticed me, truly noticed me. His eyes followed me when I entered a room. His words were careful and kind. The first time he held my hand, I felt like maybe this world wasn’t so harsh after all.But happiness is fragile. I realized that too late.It started subtly. A glance missing here, a distracted smile there. A brush of his hand that lingered too briefly. And then—inevitably—it became obvious. Sebastian would leave me. Frequently. Without explanation. Not for classes, not for training. For Liliana. His sister. Every time she needed him, he vanished. And it was never quick. Never a short goodbye. It was hours, sometimes a whole afternoon.At first, I told myself I

CAMILA By the third day, I learned the rules of survival. Liliana Blackthorn was kind. At least, that was what everyone believed. She smiled at me every morning as if we were old friends. Her voice was gentle, her manners flawless, her concern always perfectly timed. She greeted me by name in the hallways, sometimes even slowing her steps to walk beside me when Sebastian was near. Her fingers would rest lightly on his arm, her presence radiating warmth and grace, like an angel descended among wolves. And everyone adored her for it. “She’s so merciful,” I overheard a witch murmur once. “Imagine, looking after a mere human,” another replied. “She didn’t have to, but she chose to.” Merciful. That word followed her like a blessing. I felt it too—the shift in the air whenever Liliana acknowledged me publicly. The hostility I used to face outright didn’t disappear, but it changed shape. It softened, hid itself behind politeness and smiles. The blatant cruelty became whispers, the

CAMILA Its been 2 hours since the incident...2 hiurs of non stop nagging from the professor infront of me by the time the alchemy professor finally dismissed me, my legs were trembling. I had stood there for hours. Long enough for the ache in my shoulder to deepen into something heavy and constant, long enough for the burns on my hands to throb until every heartbeat felt like a reminder of how careless I had been allowed to be. The lecture itself blurred together—words about responsibility, discipline, and limitations repeating until they no longer felt directed at my actions, but at my existence. “Alchemy does not bend to intent,” the professor said calmly, as if explaining something obvious. “It bends only to competence.” I nodded. I apologized. I stood there and listened while Lady Blackthorn’s name was spoken with concern and mine was spoken with disappointment. When I was finally released, the room felt too large, too empty. I bowed, murmured my thanks, and stepped into the