REBIRTH OF THE REJECTED LUNA

SERAPHINA'S POV The wine tasted like honey. That was the first thing I noticed, and it was the last sweet thing I tasted before I died. I was sitting alone by the window of my room in the Blackthorn pack house, still wearing the silver gown I had chosen weeks ago, just in case my husband asked me to come with him to the Council. He never asked. He left at dawn with his warriors, and the only thing he said to me was, "Stay here. Keep your doors locked." Tonight, the Council was crowning him the first Alpha King over all five packs. And I, his Luna, was not even there to see it. So when a young servant knocked and came in carrying a silver tray, I almost didn't look up. "A gift for the Luna," she said, bowing her head. "To celebrate the Alpha King." My heart did something foolish. It jumped. He thought of me. Even tonight, with a crown being placed on his head, Kael had thought of me. I waited until she left, then poured the wine with shaking hands. I raised the cup toward the window, toward the faraway lights of the Council grounds, and smiled like a young girl. "To you, my king," I whispered. The first sip was sweet. The second was sweeter. By the third, my fingers had gone numb. The cup slipped from my hand and broke on the stone floor. Red wine ran across the stones and soaked the hem of my gown. I tried to stand, but my knees gave way, and I fell beside the broken glass. A heavy cold was climbing up my legs, slow and steady, and I couldn't stop it. I called for my wolf. She had always been weak and quiet, but she had never been gone. Now there was nothing. Only silence. "Careful, Luna," a soft voice said from the doorway. "That was a very good wine." Lyra Ashwood stood there in a pale blue dress, her silver-blonde hair loose over her shoulders. Lyra, the healer's daughter. The girl who brought me herbs whenever I was ill and always asked about my father as if she truly cared. "Lyra," I gasped. "Please. Call a healer." She closed the door behind her. Then she knelt beside me and smiled, the same sweet smile she always wore. "I am a healer," she said. "And there is nothing to heal. It's wolfsbane. Your wolf is already asleep. Soon, you will be too." "Why?" My voice cracked. "What did I ever do to you?" "You married him." She tilted her head. "You really never knew, did you? Five years ago, at the Harvest Moon, Kael found his fated mate." She pressed a hand to her chest. "Me." I stared at her. I wanted to laugh, to tell her she was mad, but the words stuck in my throat. "He rejected me," Lyra went on softly. "He broke our bond, and a few weeks later, he married you. Not because he loved you, Seraphina. Because your father had land and warriors, and Kael wanted both." She leaned closer. "Now your father is sick in bed, your pack belongs to Kael, and tonight he wears a crown. So tell me, what use is a Luna nobody needs?" "You're lying." Tears burned my eyes. "Kael would never do that to me." "No?" She glanced at the broken cup. "Then who do you think sent you that wine?" She stood, brushed off her dress and walked to the door. She didn't look back. The door clicked shut, and I was alone. I lay on the cold floor with my cheek against the stone, and the memories came one after another, each one sharper than the poison. Our wedding night, when Kael marked me, then walked to his own room and closed the door. The empty chair across from me at dinner, night after night. The bond on my neck that never once felt warm. I had blamed myself for all of it. I told myself I was too quiet, too plain, too weak. I told myself that if I waited long enough, one day he would finally see me. And all along, he had only been waiting for this. My father's face came to me then. His deep laugh. The way he used to call me his little moon. He had given me to Kael believing he was keeping me safe, and now he was lying sick in Silvercrest, with no idea that his daughter was dying on a stone floor far from home. "I'm sorry, Papa," I whispered. "I'm so sorry." Then the mark on my neck began to burn. It wasn't the poison. It was the bond. For five years it had been nothing but a thin, cold thread, and now it tore wide open. Something rushed through it and filled my chest so fast I couldn't breathe. It wasn't triumph. It wasn't relief. It was terror. Raw, desperate terror, as if someone far away was running with everything they had, knowing they would be too late. Then a howl split the night. The windows shook with it. It was not the howl of a king celebrating his crown. It was the sound of a wolf losing everything he had. He's pretending, I told myself. He has always been good at hiding what he feels. But deep down, I knew the truth. A bond cannot lie. The cold reached my chest. My eyes grew heavy. The last thing I tasted was honey on my lips. Then a soft silver light filled the darkness, and a voice spoke, gentle and endless, from everywhere at once. You have seen only half of the truth, child. "Then show me the rest," I begged. You will have a second chance. This time, open your eyes. And then I died.