Rise of the Forbidden Luna

Chapter 12: The Scarred Witness

The midnight wind howled through the jagged mountain passes of the outer neutral territory, biting fiercely against the thick leather of my training tunic.

We had left the safety of the Citadel hours ago, navigating the dark, uncharted border roads in a single, unbadged armored SUV. Ethan sat beside me in the dim cockpit, his large hands steady on the steering wheel, his rigid jaw set into a cold line. The atmosphere inside the car was thick with anticipation. My wolf, Luna, was pacing restlessly in my chest, her claws scratching against my consciousness as we drew closer to the truth.

The vehicle came to a silent halt in a dense, fog-heavy forest at the edge of the neutral zone. Hidden deep within the black pines stood a small, dilapidated stone cottage, its windows dark and unwelcoming.

"Stay close to me, little tiger," Ethan murmured, throwing the heavy car door open.

I stepped out into the freezing night, my heavy riding boots crunching against the frosty earth as I fell into step right beside his massive, seven-foot frame. We walked up to the weathered wooden door of the cottage. Ethan didn't knock lightly; he struck the wood with three heavy, demanding blows of his fist that echoed like thunder through the silent forest.

A long, agonizing silence followed. Then, the sound of a heavy iron bolt sliding open rattled from the other side.

The door creaked inward, revealing an old, frail man holding a flickering lantern. The moment the lamplight illuminated Ethan’s towering frame, the old man gasped, his knees visibly buckling as the lantern trembled violently in his hand. He looked up at the Lycan King in absolute, paralyzed terror, clearly believing his executioner had finally arrived at his doorstep.

"Y-Your Majesty," the man stammered, his voice cracking. "I... I have caused no trouble. I swear it."

Ethan stepped aside, his massive arm reaching back to guide me forward into the light. "I am not here to kill you, old man. I am here for answers."

The servant’s eyes flicked from Ethan to my face, and the moment his gaze locked onto me, his entire body froze. The lantern nearly slipped from his white-knuckled grip. His jaw dropped, and a shaking, scarred hand reached out toward me, his chest heaving as if he were looking at a ghost.

"Luna... Luna Diana?" he whispered, his eyes wide with a profound, breathless shock. "No... It cannot be. You died... you all died."

"She is not Diana," Ethan said, his deep, gravelly baritone slicing through the cold air. "But she carries her face. Let us inside before the wind alerts the border patrols."

The old man hurriedly stepped back, ushering us into the dark, single-room cottage. He slammed the heavy oak door shut and slid the iron bolt back into place, frantically glancing through a small window to ensure no one had followed us. As he turned back toward us into the full light of the hearth fire, my breath caught sharply in my throat. The entire left side of his face and neck was a horrific tapestry of twisted, melted scar tissue, the permanent, brutal mark of a devastating fire.

Once inside, Ethan said, "My intelligence network found out from a confidential source that you were the only survivor of the catastrophic fire twenty-one years ago, the fire that claimed the lives of Alpha Marcus, his wife Diana, their infant daughter, and a host of their loyal friends and packmates. I need you to tell us everything you can remember from that night."

"My name is Samuel," he whispered, his eyes never leaving my face as tears welled in his good eye. He walked over to a heavy wooden side desk, his hands trembling as he unlocked a secret, false-bottom drawer. He pulled out an old, slightly singed photograph and handed it to me with a shaking hand. "You are her daughter. You have to be. You are her literal mirror."

I took the photograph, my heart hammering a violent rhythm against my ribs as Ethan leaned over my shoulder to look at it. The proximity brought the rich scent of his rain-soaked cedar and heavy heat wrapping around me, anchoring me as I looked down at the image.

In the picture stood a powerful, broad-shouldered man with a fierce, kingly smile, his arm wrapped tightly around the waist of the beautiful Luna Diana from the archive portrait. They were holding hands, laughing easily, radiating with pure, unyielding love.

"That is Alpha Marcus," Samuel said, his voice cracking with an old, heavy grief. "And Luna Diana. Your true parents. They loved you fiercely, Princess. They celebrated your birth as the greatest blessing to the territory."

"Tell me what happened that night, Samuel," I commanded, my silver eyes flashing with a sudden, dangerous majesty. "The records say it was an accidental fire."

"A lie! A sickening, corporate cover-up!" Samuel spat, a cold, vicious fury twisting his scarred features. "It happened twenty-one years ago, on the night of your sacred christening and naming ceremony. The entire grand estate was filled with music, joy, and laughter. Nobody knew that a monster was sitting at the high table."

Samuel took a ragged breath, leaning against the table. "Alpha Marcus had a second-in-command. A man he loved like a brother, his trusted childhood best friend, Alpha Richard Soren. Marcus trusted him with his life, with his pack, and with you. Richard was your named godfather."

The name hit my ears like a physical strike, shattering my world into absolute chaos.

The man I had grown up to call Father was actually not my biological father, but a godfather. My heart broke into pieces at this revelation, and I couldn’t wrap my mind around the terrifying realization that the people I thought were my birth parents, Richard and Eleanor, were completely fake. No wonder they carried such a deep, unnatural hatred for me my entire life. I was visibly shaken, the blood freezing in my veins as the reality of the lie washed over me."

Richard was consumed by a quiet, venomous jealousy," Samuel whispered. "He wanted the throne, and his malicious lover, Eleanor, wanted Diana's crown. In the middle of the celebration, while everyone was merry and off-guard, Richard unleashed a rogue, heavily armed army into the estate. They blocked the exits. They started shooting indiscriminately. It wasn't a fight, Princess... it was a total massacre."

A cold, deadly numbness spread through my veins as I listened to the horror of my life’s origin.

"Luna Diana was shot right in front of the altar, her blood spilling across the marble," Samuel wept. "Alpha Marcus fell to his knees beside her body. He was completely broken, staring up at his best friend who held a smoking gun. Seeing his wife dead, Marcus begged for your infant life. He begged Richard to leave his innocent goddaughter out of it, to settle whatever twisted score he wanted with him alone."

Samuel’s voice dropped to a chilling whisper. "Richard simply laughed, a wicked, menacing sound that I will hear until the day I die. He raised his weapon and used the heavy butt of his gun to strike Alpha Marcus unconscious. Then, under Eleanor’s orders, they poured accelerant over the entire estate and set the fortress on fire, burning the evidence to ash so the world would think it was a tragic accident. I only survived because during the chaotic shooting, two dead bodies fell directly on top of me, hiding me from the executioners. I crawled out of the burning ruins with my face melting off my bones."

"If everyone was burned beyond recognition," Ethan interjected, his obsidian eyes flashing with a terrifying, bloodthirsty excitement as his aura flared with a dark, protective rage, "how did Richard walk away with the baby?"

"Because it was a staged rescue!" Samuel countered. "Richard walked out of the smoke holding you, presenting himself to the surviving pack elements as the heroic beta who braved the flames to save his Alpha’s orphan child. He used your existence to claim the vacant Alpha throne, pretending to raise his best friend's daughter out of loyalty, while he and Eleanor secretly abused and degraded you in the dark to ensure your royal Lycan spirit never awakened."

Samuel stepped closer to me, his breathing ragged as he looked down at my waist. "If you are truly the lost daughter of the Fallen Crest... you will carry the sacred mark. Alpha Marcus carried the crescent-shaped birthmark of the Lycan Royals on his right hip. He told me his newborn daughter inherited it."

Without a single trace of hesitation, I reached down and yanked back the side of my fitted black leather training trousers, exposing the bare skin of my hip.

There, etched flawlessly into my skin, was a distinct, dark crescent-shaped birthmark.

Samuel fell to his knees right there on the cottage floor, weeping openly as he pressed his forehead against my boots. "The Princess is alive. The bloodline survived."

I stood completely frozen, my chest heaving rapidly as a violent, terrifying power began to hum beneath my skin. Richard wasn't my father. He was the treacherous, cold-blooded murderer who had butchered my mother, betrayed his fated best friend, and stolen my birthright. The sheer weight of the tragedy hit me all at once. My parents had been brutally murdered before I could ever meet them or get to know a parent’s love, and I had spent my entire existence living a horrific lie. I felt completely broken inside. Hot tears streamed down my face of their own accord, spilling over my cheeks.

Ethan turned his head to look down at me. The hard line of his jaw was tight, but seeing my tears, his fierce expression instantly melted into genuine concern. He was staring down at me, reaching up his large, warm hands to gently cup my face, and wiping away the tears.

"Look at me, little tiger," Ethan murmured, his raspy velvet voice dripping with a fierce, intoxicating devotion that left my senses completely overwhelmed. He leaned down until his lips were mere inches from mine, his obsidian eyes burning with a terrifyingly bloodthirsty promise. "You are not alone anymore. I am on your side. I swear to you on the Lycan throne, we will make everyone that did you and your parents wrong pay in blood... this I promise you."