Dragon Born Luna

CHAPTER 6 The Alpha’s Eyes

Kiara

Eleven years ago, they called it the Purge.

The kingdom had been peaceful once—at least on the surface. Home to dragons and wolves, two predator races balanced by old treaties and older grudges. Most of the other magical creatures had faded long before—extinct through war, disease, or bloodlines stretched too thin. Only the humans remained, clever and opportunistic, always willing to align with whichever side promised them power.

The dragons had once ruled the skies, untouchable in both power and legacy. But they were fading. Slowly. Tragically.

Centuries of low birth rates had pushed them into desperation. Infertility plagued their kind, and so they’d begun to mix—first cautiously, then openly—with humans. It was survival, not surrender. But the price was steep.

Few true-blooded dragons remained.

Those who came from mixed lines were weaker. Some could barely shift. Some never shifted at all. Many bore golden eyes but lacked wings or flame. Some had fire resistance, strength, or speed—but not all three. Others could conjure fire from their hands but couldn’t defend themselves in a real battle. Then there were the dormant ones—no glow, no flame, no speed. Just a touch of resistance to heat. Human in every other way.

To the wolves, this slow erosion of power looked like weakness.

To the Alpha Council, it looked like an opportunity.

They hated the dragons. Not because of what they had become…

But because of what they once were.

Proud. Aloof. Untamed. Dragons had refused to bow to the kingdom’s politics, refusing seats on councils or claims to land they deemed “beneath them.” They’d lived apart, ruled themselves, breathed old fire in private skies. But even in seclusion, they were feared.

And Kiara’s mother had been the worst of all.

The last full-blooded dragon. Royalty by birth. A queen with wings the color of obsidian and flame, a mind sharp as war steel, and a daughter born of fire and wolf.

She represented the past.

Her child?

A terrifying future.

So the wolves called it treason.

They brought silver and soldiers.

And the dragons—few, scattered, diluted—burned bright… but not long.

They fell not because they were weak.

But because they were already dying.

And the Council simply lit the match.

My parents ruled them with balance — my mother with flame and foresight, my father with loyalty and a warrior’s heart. They were soul mates, true mates, rare but made for each other. The queen of dragons and her wolf mate, one who was one the Alpha King's Beta.

They never wanted a throne. They only wanted peace.

But the council wanted purity.

The war lasted two months. We barely fought. They came with silver, claiming treason. My mother burned half the battlefield before they brought her down. My father died at the gates, protecting the child Alpha he once swore fealty to, the child Alpha who was said to be my true mate. His name was never cleared. His sacrifice never honored.

I was ten.

Nana Fiona smuggled me out through the tunnels. I heard that I had died. We lived like ghosts after that. Hiding in barn lofts, trading names like cloaks. She taught me to serve, to fight, to shrink, to wait.

But I never forgot.

And I never forgave.

Because the man my father died protecting is now Alpha.

Ryden Fall.

Now I was in his palace. Working in his kitchens. Scrubbing his floors.

The Alpha’s wing smelled like stone and storm. Cold, sharp, powerful. The kind of place that expected you to lower your eyes and speak only when summoned. Every instinct I had screamed at me to turn around and go back to the servant quarters, to stay in the shadows where I belonged.

But that wasn’t an option.

I wasn’t just here to scrub floors.

I was here to survive long enough to burn them all down.

The weight of it settled on me like a second skin, heavier than the linen bundle I clutched to my chest. These halls had swallowed people stronger than me — rebels, spies, even gifted wolves. But I wasn’t here to fight. Not yet.

Not until I knew everyone who had a hand in killing them.

The memories came without warning, as they always did. My grandmother’s voice, grave and tired, whispering the truth I had never been allowed to know — one that made me understand everything she'd put me through.

“Your mother was murdered. Remember”

My mother — the last full-blooded dragon — struck down before she ever had a chance to walk me through my first shift. My father, once a loyal Beta to the Alpha himself, was framed for treason and executed like a traitor. Not because he broke the law. But because he married a dragon. Because they had me.

I spent most of my life hidden among humans. Because I was a symbol of a secret. A threat. A remnant of a war they tried to erase.

Fiona, my grandmother, protected me the only way she could — by making me disappear. We lived in the fringes, quiet and forgettable, until I was old enough to hold a knife. Old enough to understand vengeance.

And now, I was back.

Now I was in Narcolantis, wearing the name Mira instead of Kiara, dressed in servant linens instead of ball gowns. Disguised. Dismissed. Close enough to listen.

Close enough to strike.

I moved in silence, just another girl with a tray and bowed shoulders. But under the fabric of my borrowed clothes, the heat under my skin stirred. I could feel it thrumming through my veins, always there, always waiting. My father used to call it my ember heart.

My mother said it would one day make me a queen.

But they were both dead now.

And this kingdom would turn to ash before I'd let their murderers live another year

Though I didn’t know what I was becoming.

My power was unstable. It wasn’t just heat and warm palms anymore. Sometimes I woke up with scorched bedsheets. Sometimes my eyes shimmered gold when I bled. I hadn’t shifted. Not yet. I didn’t know how because my mother got taken away from me before I could even get to know how.

But I could feel the dragon in me getting closer to the surface every day.

And the wolf?

The wolf had always been quieter. Not absent. Just waiting. Watching. And now I felt her stirring.

I tightened my grip on the linens and stepped silently into the marble hallway. My soft shoes made no sound against the polished floors, but my heartbeat was another story. It echoed in my ears, loud and frantic, like it wanted to betray me.

The guards barely looked at me as I passed. I kept my posture humble, my gaze low. I’d learned quickly that no one questioned a servant who didn’t make noise. The best disguise wasn’t magic or lies.

It was silence.

Still, I couldn’t ignore the tension in the air. It crackled through the corridor like an approaching storm. There was weight here — power layered thick in the very walls, and I felt it settling on my shoulders like invisible chains.

Ahead, a door stood slightly ajar. I recognized the voices inside before I could stop myself.

Ryden. And Hayden.

I hesitated, half-turning to go around, but something in Ryden’s tone made my body freeze.

“She’s not normal,” he was saying. Low and sharp. “There’s something off about her. She doesn’t smell right.”

Hayden’s voice followed.

“She’s new. Probably nervous.”

Ryden laughed, but there was no humor in it.

“Nervous girls don’t smell like wolfsbane. She smells just... wrong.”

My breath caught.

Wrong? Like fire and ash? Like the phantom scent of a shift I’d never made — but felt burning beneath my skin every time I got too close?

A memory came unbidden

“Again.”

Commander Vex’s boot connected with my ribs.

Nana had sent me to serve in one of the Alpha's war camps when I was twelve to learn to protect myself without exposing my identity.

I rolled with the impact, but pain still lanced through my side. The packed dirt of the training yard stuck to my sweat-slicked skin.

“Pathetic.”

He tossed a practice sword at my feet.

“You fight like a noble’s pampered daughter.”

At fourteen, I was neither noble nor pampered. Just desperate. I grabbed the sword.

Vex didn’t wait for me to stand. His next kick sent me sprawling.

“Too slow. Too soft.”

His shadow loomed over me.

“You want to survive? Your body can’t be yours anymore. It’s a weapon. Nothing more.”

That night, I’d stared at my reflection in the barracks’ cracked mirror. The girl staring back had shoulders too broad for her frame, muscles already forming where other girls had softness.

I hated her.

I touched the bruise blooming across my ribs and hated how my hands looked — scabbed knuckles, short nails, none of the delicate grace the noble ladies had.

Weapon. Not a girl.

I repeated it like a prayer until I believed it.

Until I became one.

I stepped back as I pulled myself out of the memory and bumped the edge of a cleaning broom leaning against the wall. It crashed to the floor with a clatter.

My heart lurched. I dropped a cleaning towel.

“s**t,” Ryden snapped.

Footsteps. Fast. Approaching.

I spun and dashed into a side hallway, diving into a narrow service tunnel I’d memorized my first few days here. I crouched low, back pressed to the cool wall, and held my breath.

The door slammed open. Boots hit stone.

Silence.

Then his voice, low and dark.

“She was here. Find her.”

---

Marga’s cleaver slammed down on a haunch of venison hard enough to make the other kitchen girls flinch as I walked in.

“Where in the hell were you?”

I set the (now crumpled) linens on the counter.

“Delivering the towels like you—”

Her hand shot out, gripping my chin. Her thumb pressed into the fresh scrape on my jaw from the tunnel dive.

“Try again.”

The kitchen had gone dead silent. Even Julise paused in her kneading, flour-dusted hands.

I swallowed.

“I took a wrong turn. Got lost near the Alpha’s wing.”

Marga’s nostrils flared. For a heartbeat, I thought she smelled the fake fear on me. Then she released me with a shove.

“Stupid girl. You’re lucky it was just Hayden who found you.”

My head snapped up.

“Hayden?”

She wiped her hands on her apron, eyes darting to the high window where smoke still curled against the dawn.

“Came by looking for you not five minutes ago.”

Her voice dropped.

“Said to tell you he likes the lavender soap best.” Ice flooded my veins.

Lavender. The scent of the towel I’d left behind.

Julise’s dough hit the table with a thud.

“He’s toying with you.”

Marga surprised me then. She grabbed my wrist, yanking me close enough to smell the onions and iron on her.

“You listen good, girl. Hayden Moore plays with his food before he eats it.”

Her calloused thumb rubbed over my pulse point — not unkindly.

“You don’t want to be on his menu.”

Hayden

Hayden crouched in the west quarter.

“Beta!”

A guard stumbled through.

“We lost the trail.”

Hayden straightened, brushing dust from his knees.

“Of course you did.”

He inhaled deeply — burned oak, terrified horse, and beneath it… wolfsbane. Again. Faint, but unmistakable.

His lips curved. “Call off the hunt.” The guard blinked. “But the Alpha said—”

“Tell Ryden it was a false alarm.”

Hayden plucked a single stick from the hay.

“He’ll know what I mean.”

He was already walking away. The kitchen girl’s face flashed in his mind — the way she’d moved in the hallway. Gone before he had a chance to see her, even though he’d been close to the door. “Well, well. The world just got interesting.”