Chapter 6 The Training

Luna’s POV

Silence.

Rowan isn’t pleased, but I see Kael’s smirk before he schools his expression back to a cold stoic one.

“As you see,” Kael’s voice speaks of triumph. “You cannot take her. She belongs here, in the Ironfang Pack, Rowan.”

As soon as he finishes his words, footsteps resound in the background, until an elderly man appears, draped in a large brown jacket. His eyes are fixed to the floor as he bows.

“Alpha Kael,” the old man greets.

“Doctor Caine. Ensure she is well,” Kael steps aside and turns to Rowan again. Rowan’s brows are knit tightly, his features a display of reluctance. Rowan looks at me, his gaze searches my face.

My heart thunders in my chest, and I look away. There is no need, I think. I have made my choice.

Even if I am to be used by Kael, at least he is honest, and seems more intent on keeping me alive.

Because this cursed power inflicts me.

The doctor pays them no mind, and begins to check my vitals. This is the first time I have ever been looked over by a doctor.

“Put your arms up,” the doctor says and I obey, confused but attentive.

I pay little attention to the background noise. Until a loud slam makes me gasp and whip my head to the door.

Rowan is gone, but Kael is not.

He glances at the door with a hint of satisfaction in his eyes.

Then he sees me staring at him.

“Lost your tongue I see,” he chuckled darkly. I barely stifle a shiver; his entire countenance is wicked to look at.

“The lady is malnourished,” the doctor reports. “It is the Moon Goddess’s blessings that keep her healthy.”

I clench my jaw unwittingly, a word flashing in my mind.

Moonborn.

Even Elder Mireya called me that.

I was no fool, I knew something was going on.

I knew little, but it was enough.

“Anything else?” Kael asks, fixing me with a gaze that burns.

“She will require a tincture to prevent colds, and more nutrition to strengthen her,” the doctor bows again. “That is all, Alpha Kael.”

The doctor is sent away.

The night is long, and I wish for the dawn to come. Kael remains, watching me.

This time I do not speak. I have exhausted myself beyond measure.

I relax against the headboard, fingers brushing against the soft sheets. A first for me.

A maid enters while I revel silently in such luxuries, and swiftly a savory aroma fills the room.

My stomach growls, and I swallow.

The tray bears a plate of steaming food: more than I have ever eaten at a go.

“Tomorrow, you shall train.” Kael speaks, voice low and chilling. “Do not dare think of escaping or hiding your talents.”

“What I have,” I feel the urge to respond this time. “Is not a talent.”

He steps closer and towers over me. Cold fingers grip my chin, forcing me to look at him.

His blue eyes are immeasurably deep, gleaming like sapphires.

“Be what it may,” he tells me. “It is a weapon.”

I am a weapon.

I cannot bring myself to even nod.

Only when he releases me and walks out do I finally get the chance to breathe.

My body trembled with the thought of the future.

The Luna Trials.

Moonborn.

Too many things I do not know, and more that I have no choice in.

A tingle rushes through my fingers, and I see a small spark. Blink and it is gone.

“Is there hope?” I softly ask out loud, but no one is here to answer.

When I finally finish my meal, the warmth of the brazier and the bed lulls me to a faint sense of rest. I stare out the window, into the night, breathing in the scent of incense.

It is only then that I remember something— a secret I hid.

I press my hand against my body, feeling for the paper. That worn letter, which had that word on it.

It was a lifeline, a connection like no other.

The sheets are in disarray when I finally unveil the folded paper, hidden under my clothes.

The days had made me forget and fortitude kept it safe.

I lean closer to the lamplight, opening it.

The words— blurry and faded through the passage of time - are unremarkable. Except that word again. Moonborn.

I sigh out loud. This is frustrating.

I grip the letter tightly, the soft weathered parchment crinkling with warning: a small tug and it tears, the message forgotten.

I am about to give up, when I raise the letter up to view through the lamplight.

The golden glow shines through the parchment, and my breath catches.

The words are legible: just barely.

I have deciphered it.

My brows furrowed as I read: most maids do not know how to read, and it is fortunate that I have learned.

‘The beast awakens. The Blood Moon … seven nights. Disaster shall strike, and all shall be devoured …. is born. The one called Moonborn. The seed of chaos, harbinger of destruction. We must find…’

I drop my hand. The letter is long, and my body still aches. Trembling, I stare down at the paper in my hand.

Several words are still illegible. But what I have read… is not good.

“The beast awakens,” I whisper out loud. “Who is this beast?”

Is it me? Or someone else?

The sound of approaching footsteps startles me. I shove the paper underneath my pillow and lay back down. I pull the blankets up to my face, shutting my eyes.

The door opens, and someone walks in.

My nose tingles.

It is a scent I have not experienced before.

It is of cinnamon, cloves, and a dark earthy scent. Like the forest brought to life.

I force myself to keep my breathing easy, to pretend that I am asleep. I have done so before, as a maid tormented and whispered about. I know how to pretend.

After a beat or two, I hear shuffling.

Then footsteps. I try to make out what it could be, WHO it could be.

But no voice is heard.

Only that scent lingers.

Suddenly I feel something pull me, a haziness like never before. It wraps its arms around me, sleep personified.

And I know nothing more, drifting off into a dreamless state.

…