All Chapters of The Lycan King's Rejected Luna : Chapter 1 - Chapter 9

POV: LyraFive years of waiting ended in a single sentence, and it wasn't my name.The first thing I noticed was that Rowan wouldn't look at me, and my heart stumbled at the sight of it. A cold knot tightened in my stomach, whispering warnings that I stubbornly tried to ignore.The sacred courtyard sparkled beneath the full moon, silver lanterns hung from the ancient oak trees, and white flowers covered the stone path that led to the Moon Altar. Music drifted through the night air as wolves from neighboring packs laughed and talked among themselves, filling the courtyard with warmth and excitement.Tonight was the Annual Moon Ceremony, when every Alpha gathered before the Moon Goddess to honor the old traditions and Alpha Rowan Blackwood would finally name his Luna.Everyone believed that Luna would be me, including me.I stood at the edge of the courtyard, smoothing the wrinkles from my white ceremonial dress with hands that shook from excitement.I had waited five long years for thi

POV: LyraSelene had promised that by sunrise, I wouldn't even be pack anymore, and I was about to find out she meant every single terrifying word.The celebration had already begun before I even reached the end of the courtyard, and loud cheers rose up behind me while drums echoed through the whole village, beating a rhythm that felt like nails being driven into my skull.Someone shouted from the center of the crowd, "Long live Alpha Rowan and Luna Selene!" and those words hit me like another rejection, sharp, brutal, and impossible to ignore.I didn't turn around because If I looked back, I knew my weak heart would betray me, and I would see Rowan standing proudly beside the woman who had stolen everything from my life.My chest still burned where our Mate Bond had been so cruelly severed, and every single breath hurt because of it, as if my ribs were closing in around damaged lungs.The strange, heavy silence inside my mind frightened me even more than the physical pain, desperate

POV: LyraI had spent my whole life believing the Blackwood Pack bowed to no one, then I watched Rowan drop his head to the ground, and I understood how wrong we all had been.The entire world fell silent, and even the terrifying sounds of screaming stopped, as I stood outside my broken cottage, staring toward the center of the village as a thick, choking smoke rose into the dark night sky, turning the bright, beautiful moon into a pale, sickly shadow.The ground beneath my feet trembled faintly with every heavy, measured step that echoed from the direction of the sacred courtyard.Something immensely powerful had arrived, something terrifying that made every single wolf in the valley tremble with raw fear, and my first thought was to turn and run into the dark woods, since I had no place in the Blackwood Pack anymore.Rowan had rejected me before every witness, the warriors had thrown my remaining belongings into the dirt like trash, and no one would even notice if I disappeared into

POV: Rowan The King's declaration hung over the smoking ruins like a sentence from an executioner. The words seemed to physically suck the air out of the clearing, not a single warrior dared breathe, not an elder dared scrape their staff against the stone. I stood frozen on the steps of the sacred platform, my sword half-drawn, my knuckles white on the leather grip. Malrik didn't look back as he kept his massive left arm locked securely around Lyra’s waist, hauling her against his armored flank as though she were a porcelain chalice carved from the moon itself.  Her white ceremonial dress, the one she had carefully washed and pressed by hand for tonight fluttered against his blackened plate mail.

POV: Lyra Nothing in the Blackwood valley had prepared me for the sheer, suffocating scale of Oakhaven. We crested the final ridge of the Frostfang pass just as the morning sun fractured through the gray mist, painting the valley below in cold shades of gold and iron. A massive defensive wall, easily sixty feet high and lined with hundreds of black iron banners bearing the silver wolf of the Ashveil dynasty, encircled the entire lower city. As our caravan approached the Great Obsidian Gate, the massive iron-banded timber groaned open on counterweights that shook the bedrock beneath our horses’ hooves. I pulled the King’s heavy wool cloak tighter around my shoulders, acutely conscious of the mud caking my boots a