The Many-Faced Luna

Chapter 3: Fated Mates

For a moment, I thought it would be a good ending for me if I died in the basement. At least, I didn’t need to face my future fate or endless torment.

But Crystal didn’t think so. She yelled at my ears and ordered me to preserver. So finally I watied for the rescue.

At first, it was only trickling like the leftover water after a hose was turned off, but then a steady stream began to spill out from the far left corner. Within no time, I was soaked as the floor washed out. With every second that passed, the water spewed harder out of the pipes like a dragon releasing its fiery breath.

Grace must have modified the basement to connect directly to our main water source. I had no idea that she'd been manipulating the plumbing to torture me. What a diabolical way to play with me!

Even though it wasn't at maximum speed, the basement filled quickly. Items began to float and bump into my skin. Without the ability to see, I shrieked whenever something brushed against my body. Soon, it wasn't only objects bobbing in the water–it was me.

Gulping air, a whoosh of water spun me around like limp clothing in a washing machine. For a second, I felt like I was in a whirlpool, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't breach. Swimming with all my might, I broke the surface, gasping for air. As I treaded water, my final visions were of me drowning in hell.

***

The next thing I remember was blinking my eyes open to the soft, warm glow of my shanty cottage's lights. Lying on my worn mattress, a profound sense of gratitude washed over me. Just like last time, my father saved me. I knew it.

However, despite being my savior, he never failed to disappoint me.

When I recovered, I tried to talk to him about it, but he only pretended nothing happened. He was complicit in Grace's crimes against me, and he wouldn't ever change. This was just how things were.

I collapsed against my makeshift bed after another morning of slaving around. My father might have saved me last night, I might have almost lost my life, but that didn’t change anything. I was still expected to get up in the morning, fix everyone’s breakfast while ignoring the chill that seeped into my bones.

Even though Grace wanted the exact opposite, I was glad I didn’t drown. I still didn’t remember how my father pulled me out, I must have blacked out when the water filled my lungs. When I woke up, I was soaked and shivering, but alive. Alone, but alive.

Crystal had helped me stay strong, helped speed up the healing process, so I wouldn’t be a sniffling mess. Which would’ve probably earned me more ill treatment from them.

I used to wonder why my father treated me like this, why he never looked at me with anything other than disgust. For years, I searched for answers, hoping there was something I could do to change it, to make him see me differently. But as I grew older, I finally found out the truth.

“Because your father hated me.” It was Crystal who answered my question, “I know this is cruel, but you have to face it because it is the fact. You have no friends, and you are not allowed to leave this cottage. Your words and behaviors are observed by maids and servers, and any of abnormality will be reported.”

“Your father wants you to be isolated. You think Grace is the one who tortures you? No, your father is the real culprit.”

I knew Crystal was right. For a long time, I tried to seek the reason. I’d always thought my parents had been fated mates; that was what everyone else said anyway. They were so in love that they couldn’t wait to be married.

It wasn’t until one night when Martina and father had a horrible argument that I overheard them talking. My mother wasn’t his fated mate. Oh no, she was chosen, handpicked because of her rare beauty, because of the power she held in her bloodline. My father, the son of the alpha, fell in love with her at first sight, or at least that’s what he convinced himself of.

But it wasn’t real. Their bond wasn’t fated, and I was the living proof of that mistake. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t bear to look at me, why he couldn’t find it in himself to care. I wasn’t supposed to exist, not in the way I did. I was the product of a choice, not a destiny, and it seemed the world wanted to punish me for it.

I didn’t think it was fair that I suffered because my mother never wanted to be with my father. She had someone else, someone she loved deeply. But love wasn’t enough to protect her from my father’s rage. He couldn’t stand the idea of being rejected, of being humiliated in front of the pack. So, he did what he always does—he took control. He found a way to drive her lover out, banishing him from the pack, and forced my mother into a marriage she never wanted.

He lied to everyone and told them they were fated mates, that it was destiny. But it was all a sham. A lie he spun to protect his pride, to make himself look like the powerful alpha he pretended to be. My mother, though, she couldn’t forget the man she loved. She couldn’t find it in herself to be happy with the man who destroyed her life. She was depressed, broken, a shadow of who she used to be. And my father—Alpha Evergreen—he hated her for it. He neglected her, let her suffer in silence, and punished her for not loving him back.

I was born into that misery, a child of a union built on lies and pain. My mother didn’t survive long after I was born. She died, and with her death, whatever humanity my father had left died too. He couldn’t hurt her anymore, so he turned his hatred toward me. I became the living embodiment of his failure, of everything he lost and could never have. And he made sure I knew it every day of my life.

The beatings, the isolation, the cruel words—it was all meant to break me, to make me feel as worthless as he believed I was. But instead of breaking me, it hardened me. I learned to survive, to endure. But I was still a child who longed for love, for some kind of connection. Every time he hurt me, every time he looked at me with those cold, empty eyes, I wondered what I did wrong. What made me so unlovable, so deserving of this pain?

It wasn’t until I was older that I began to understand. It was never about me. It was about her—my mother. I reminded him of her, and not in a good way. I was told I had her green eyes, and her long, raven black hair. He couldn’t stand the sight of me because when he looked at me, he saw her. And he hated her for not loving him back.

No one knew I had learnt the truth, except Crystal. That’s why she pushed me to leave here.

“There was no reason for you to suffer the pain and torment which you shouldn’t.” She said, “Come on. Let’s leave here and breathe the free air. The summer is coming, and we can make money during this time ”

She was talking about the summer vacation. Every year, my father would pack up and take Martina and Grace to the villa in the forest. It was their time to relax, to enjoy the luxury of a life I was never a part of. The first few times they left me behind, it stung. I wondered why I wasn’t good enough to be included, why I was always the one left out. But over time, I began to see it differently. Their absence meant freedom, even if only for a little while.

When the house emptied, it was like a weight lifted off my shoulders. There was no one to watch my every move, no one to order me around, no one to punish me for the smallest of mistakes. The silence was a gift, a rare moment of peace in a life filled with chaos. For those few weeks, the house was mine, and I could be whoever I wanted to be. I could do things that brought me joy without the fear of being caught or reprimanded.

I would wander through the empty halls, letting my fingers trail along the walls and feeling the rough texture of the stone beneath my skin. Sometimes, I’d sit in the garden, hidden from view, and listen to the wind rustling through the trees. It was a small thing, but it made me feel alive, connected to something bigger than the misery I lived in.

There were books, too—old, forgotten books tucked away in the corners of the house. I’d sneak into the library and lose myself in the stories, imagining myself in worlds where I was loved, where I was free. I was careful, though. I made sure to put everything back exactly as I found it, to leave no trace that I’d been there. I couldn’t afford to have anyone know that I’d found a small piece of happiness.

I’d also practice my shifting, something I rarely did when they were home. My wolf was a part of me that I kept hidden, even from myself. It was safer that way. But during those summer days, I could let her out, and feel the power in my muscles as I ran through the woods, free from the eyes that always judged me.

It was that time of the year again. I’d been so ecstatic when I helped them pack up this morning, but I didn’t show it. This was the part of summer I looked forward to the most—leaving the house, feeling the fresh air on my face, and escaping the walls that seemed to close in on me every day. My heart raced with anticipation as I prepared myself for the journey.

I never ventured into the bustling parts of town, not even in the summer. The fear of being recognized and reported to my father kept me away. Instead, I always headed for the border of Green Forest, a place so remote that no one else dared to go there. It was on the edge of our territory, dangerously close to the land of the rogues and the Flame Sword pack. But that was precisely why it was safe for me—no one would be there to see me, and even if they did, they wouldn’t dare come too close.

Before leaving, I carefully selected my disguise. It was essential to blend in, to become unrecognizable. I rummaged through the few clothes I had, choosing a tattered cloak that was too large for me. It helped hide my form, making it difficult for anyone to guess my age or identity. But the most crucial part of my disguise was the iron mask. It was heavy and cold against my skin, but it concealed my face completely, leaving only my eyes exposed. No one would be able to see who I really was.

I had worn the mask so many times before, it felt like an extension of myself. I adjusted the cloak, making sure it covered as much of me as possible, and then I slipped out of the house, moving quickly and quietly through the back door. The moment I stepped outside, I felt a rush of relief. The air was fresh, carrying the scent of pine and earth.

This wasn't my first time sneaking out to the border, nor was it the first time I felt the thrill of freedom surge through me when I shifted into my wolf form. The moment my paws touched the earth, I became something more than the frightened girl trapped in a life she never wanted. I became the wolf, strong and fast, with the wind rushing through my fur as I sprinted through the wilderness.

The forest blurred around me as I ran, the scent of damp earth filling my senses. Every muscle in my body sang with the joy of movement, of unrestrained power. Here, in this form, I wasn’t Saphira the unwanted daughter—I was a creature of the wild, a force of nature untamed by the chains of my past. The wind howled in my ears, carrying the sounds of the forest with it, and for a moment, I felt truly alive.

But then, the unmistakable sound of a scream came piercing through the intense feeling of freedom. My ears pricked, and my body froze mid-stride.

“What was that?” I thought, focusing all my senses into that one sound, but I heard nothing more. I sniffed, just as the air grew thick with the scent of blood and fear, the telltale signs of a rogue attack. My heart pounded in my chest as the reality of where I was, and the dangers it held, slammed back into me.

The screams of were-wolves came again, with the savage howls of the rogues, the vicious predators who lived for the thrill of the hunt, for the pleasure of the kill.

I crouched low to the ground, trying to stay hidden, but I couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down my spine. I knew what was happening—another brutal attack, another pack torn apart by the rogues. Any sane wolf would have turned back, and fled to safety before they were caught in the chaos.

But Crystal, my wolf, had other ideas.

She surged forward, pulling me deeper into the forest, toward the source of the noise. “Come on! It’s showtime!” she urged, her voice bubbling with excitement.

Without hesitation, I crouched down for momentum and lunged forward.