Moon Born Outcast Novels & Stories

Huh, and that little speech wasn’t hot at all. “Okay, enough with the apocalyptic encouragement.” I got Moon by the throat, twisting him to face me. “In a couple of hours, we’re traveling into the Jungles, which according to my aunt is the empire of savages and outcasts to catch a killer.” When Moon’s eyes darkened, and his look slid away from mine, I moved him. “I know that they were your…tribe? People…? I feel like I want to go with pack but—” “Family,” Moon said, finally meeting my look. “That’s who we’ll be meeting, even if they abandoned me in the Training Center.”

I dropped my gaze instantly and asked before chewing onto my lips, "Anything else I can get you, s-sir?" "No, sweetheart." He darkly chuckled. Just as I was about to walk off this uncomfortable scene, I felt a burn on my skin. The moonlight had escaped the drapes of the clouds finally and it was lighting up the terrace with its own enigma. But why burn? Isn't the moon an epitome of cool and calm? I shrieked when I realised the burn that was flaming on my skin was actually, under my skin. With a clatter, the champagne glasses on the tray shattered on the floor. Luckily, the sound of music drowned it out but didn't stop the fact it poured all down the back of someone.

I'd tried to erase the image, to bury it somewhere deep in my mind… but it only got worse. Because it didn't end there. Every night since, he brought a different woman home. Every. Single. Night. And everyone in the Pack House knew. The truth spread like wildfire, feeding on whispers and sideways glances. Now, my shame had a name, Outcast Luna. It was no longer a secret. It was my identity. Still, I clung to a sliver of hope, praying my father would step in. That he'd finally care. But instead of showing up himself, he sent my older brother.

“I mean, we know how he came to be from the past, and we know what he's seeking to do in the future, but he was killed at some point in between, wasn't he?” Nana shares an ominous look with Shane, and the entire cabin suddenly feels a lot quieter. “Yes, he died. At least, we believed he did. In the year when I turned sixteen, the Moon gathered all the great Primordial houses together and sought for heralds of war—wolves who would hunt down Dreadborn and slay the rogue Lycan. But for all the might of the great Primordial age, only one tribe stepped forward to do the Moon's bidding.” The woman pauses and stares at me with a soft gaze. “The mark of this tribe was a distinct color in their eyes.

Today they held. Lyra stood at the far side beneath a carving of the moon at its thinnest. Jason leaned against a pillar like it belonged to him and he was doing it a favor by touching it. Others took their places with a choreography I hadn’t learned yet: elders near the center, fighters along the ring, witches like Vivian in the seams. Jasper laid the facts out. He didn’t dramatize. He didn’t underplay. The Rogue, the message, the names. Ronan. Blood Moon. The bargain dressed as mercy.

We bent to read the plaque. "Luna Jessica of the Blood Moon pack, the second of the pack to be Corrupted, victim of the Silver Hands." the plaque read. "Your mother," Mabel told me. She walked to a cabinet I hadn't noticed and got out a round, white rock. It was big enough to fit in the cup of her palms. "Moon rock," she told me. "Harnesses the light of the moon. It captures moonlight, and releases it when the user needs it."

“I have to know who I am.” Mira reached for a small chest beneath the table. She withdrew a bundle of herbs wrapped in twine, a silver bowl, and a sharp curved blade. “We’ll begin at moonrise,” she said. Outside, the first glow of twilight crept across the sky. Samantha stepped outside for a moment, letting the wind wash over her face. The Hollowbrook village loomed in the distance, quiet and waiting. Somewhere in its shadows, her past slept hidden like a secret too big for the world.

“Our child will never become a tool for anyone!” A soft rumble echoed through the whole place as the leader laughed loudly, sending shivers down my spine. I hid beside my mom, and keenly listened. “Eighteen years of hiding has definitely weakened you and all that's left of you is a washed off Moon priest that can't defeat me,” he mocked. It was still quite unreal and funny that my whole life was built on a lie, but I still don't know why the Moonborn was so important. I didn't read much about it because there were just a few records of it.

He turned the journal so I could read it myself, and the ink, faded but legible, sent an icy chill straight through my chest. *She who walks between moons is known also, in older tongues, as the one the Goddess herself once cast out.* "Cast out," I repeated slowly. "By the Moon Goddess." "Which means," Adrian said, voice grim and quiet, "whatever sent you back to fix this, Luna, and whatever's been hunting Kael's bloodline for a debt across generations, they're not just separate forces working in the same story." His eyes met mine, dark with dawning, terrible understanding.

Lena had always hated full moons. Not in a dramatic, horror-movie way. Nothing that obvious. It was quieter than that. A restless hum under her skin. Nights where sleep never came easy and every sound outside her window felt personal, like the dark was aware of her. Tonight, the moon wasn’t silver. It was red. She stood barefoot on the back porch of her rental house at the edge of town, arms folded tight against the chill. The woods behind her stretched deep and black, the treetops glowing faintly under the strange crimson light.