The Moonstone Curse

Livia POV I’ve always felt like I was born in the wrong era. Or, at the very least, I’ve always wished I had been. The allure of ancient, traditional packs—their fated mates, rituals to please their Goddess, traditions that strengthened their bonds—has always left me in awe. To me, it was a world of vivid colors, deep connections, and unbreakable oaths. A world that existed only in the stories passed down through generations. It’s no wonder my family labeled me the "dreamer" among them, forever chasing an era lost to time. If this were a different time, my twenty-first birthday would have been a true celebration of coming into the mating age. I can almost see it: the scent of roasted meat filling the air as flames lick the night sky from an open firepit, wolves from different packs arriving and mingling as one. My Alpha father and Luna mother standing tall and proud as the feast carries on, a ceremony filled with life, laughter, and the promise of a future. A bonfire would crackle in the distance, casting warm, flickering shadows across smiling faces, as we prepared for a run beneath the moon. And I, as the celebrated she-wolf, would be sent off to find my fated mate—a bond written in the stars, blessed by Selene, the moon goddess. But tonight, on my twenty-first birthday, there is no moonlit run, no joyous union with fate. The grand hall is filled with people, dressed in finery that glitters under the crystal chandeliers, but it’s all a facade. A fake party, dressed up as my coming-of-age, but really just an opportunity for my father to display his prized Beta—Emery, my betrothed. My birthday is nothing more than a chess piece in the game for the future of our pack, Moonstone. And I am but a pawn. The truth is, I could care less about being mated to Emery. My heart aches for something real, something like the world we lost centuries ago before the gods tore it apart. Before the war that destroyed Selene—the one who once blessed us with fated mates. Three hundred years ago, everything changed. Now, the chance of finding your true mate is one in a million. Our world is cold, ruled by witches and dark beings who ravaged the land and twisted the rules of nature. Most packs were wiped out; those that survived merged out of desperation, eventually splitting into two: Whitefang and Moonstone. Whitefang is everything we despise. Ruthless, driven by bloodlust, their pack is built on power and fear. They strike first, and they don’t ask questions later. We, Moonstone, are the defenders—the protectors who strive to maintain peace. But peace has its limits, and tonight it feels fragile, like the thinnest thread between us and disaster. As I step into the grand hall, dressed in a gown that feels more like a costume than a celebration, my breath catches. The room is filled with faces I don’t recognize—Whitefang wolves, their presence like a poison spreading through the crowd, turning my party into something far more sinister. My pulse quickens, worry flooding my veins. This isn’t right. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I storm toward Emery, who lounges on a stool near the bar, lazily sipping on a beer as if we’re not surrounded by our sworn enemies. “What is Whitefang doing here?” I hiss, forcing my voice to remain low even as panic rises like bile. Emery’s gaze follows the intruders lurking in the shadows, watching them just as intently as I am. But he remains maddeningly calm, planting a kiss on my cheek as though to reassure me. He takes a flute of champagne from a passing waitress and hands it to me, his voice a whisper in my ear that drips with warning. “Whatever happens,” he murmurs, “do not shift.” His tone sends ice racing down my spine. This is far from normal. Before I can press him for answers, a voice sharp and familiar slices through the air. “Well, well, if it isn’t the birthday girl.” I don’t need to turn around to know who it is. The sound of Regina’s voice makes my skin crawl. She stands before me, a vision of malice in human form, her smirk devilish and her eyes gleaming with wicked amusement. “Happy Birthday, Livia,” she purrs, the words dripping with venom. “What are you doing here?” I spit, unable to mask the disappointment in my tone. Sharing the same air as the devil’s little princess is never a pleasure. Regina inspects her nails, her expression one of exaggerated boredom, as if being at my birthday party is the greatest inconvenience of her life. “Believe me,” she says, her eyes flicking up to meet mine, “I wouldn’t be caught dead at this sad excuse for a party if it weren’t for my father.” Her smile spreads, slow and poisonous. “Daddy thought it was time I formally met my new sister-in-law.” The world tilts beneath me, the ground slipping out from under my feet as her words register. Beside me, I feel Emery stiffen, his hand clenching into a fist. “Sister-in-law?” His voice is low and cold, the words barely a question. Regina's grin widens, savoring the moment like a viper savoring its prey. “Yes, sister-in-law,” she repeats, dragging out the words as if tasting their bitterness. “Didn’t they tell you? Daddy wants you to bond with my brother.” She gestures around us, to the sea of Whitefangs infiltrating my birthday. “Congratulations, Livia. You’re about to be married into the family.” Something inside me snaps, the rage a fiery surge that drives me forward. I lunge for her throat, but Emery’s arm wraps around my waist, pulling me back with a force I can’t match. “No way am I letting you fight her, sweetheart.” His voice is sharp, a stern reprimand that makes my blood boil. He uses that damn pet name—the one that always feels like mockery—like it’s acid on his tongue. “We’re outnumbered. Use your head.” I twist in his grip, my body shaking with fury, and manage to break free for just a moment before I stumble to the floor. Emery’s right there with me, falling alongside and keeping a firm hold on my waist. My pack senses the tension, one by one shifting into their wolves, their snarls filling the room as they stand ready to fight. It’s like an ocean wave, rising and crashing as they come to my defense, ready to face off against Whitefang if that’s what it takes. The room is on the edge of battle. The air is thick with the taste of violence, and I can feel the war drums beating in my veins. Just as I’m about to call my pack off, a growl—low and menacing—echoes from behind the closed doors of my father’s office. It silences the room, freezing everyone in place. Emery and I scramble to our feet just as the doors swing open with a force that sends a chill down my spine. And there, in the doorway, stands Alpha Whitefang, holding my father’s severed head by the hair, his expression a cruel mask of victory. The world around me disappears. All I see is red, the color of blood and rage. All I hear is the deafening roar in my ears as I lunge at him, my only thought to tear out his throat, to make him pay. But Emery is faster, grabbing my arm and pulling me back into his chest, his grip like iron as I thrash against him. “You fool!” I scream, the words tearing from my throat like a battle cry. And then I see it. A flash of light, a glint of steel. The Whitefang warriors move as one, pressing daggers to the throats of every Moonstone wolf in the room. My pack—all of them—at the mercy of our enemy, blades poised to end their lives with a single command. “Easy, Liv,” Emery whispers urgently in my ear, his voice trembling with fear. “Don’t lose your head. Please. Not now.” Alpha Whitefang smirks, a look that makes me want to tear his face off with my bare hands. He tosses my father’s head to the ground, letting it roll to a stop at my feet like a discarded toy. “I see why your father wanted you to bond with the young Beta,” he says, his voice smooth, calculated. “He is smart. Strategically smart. Unlike your father.” He sneers, the hatred in his eyes as deep as the ocean. “I offered him a good deal, sweet Livia; he should have taken it.” He steps closer, the distance between us evaporating until he’s close enough to reach out and smear his bloodied hand down the front of my gown. The stench of iron and death makes me gag, and I can see the empty pit in his eyes where a soul should be. “My oldest son will become Alpha soon,” he continues, his voice a low rumble. “I thought it would be fitting for you two to bond. A truce for our little war. But your father insulted me, so I took his head.” “You’re a bastard,” I murmur, my voice shaking with the force of my hatred. But my insult doesn’t faze him; it only makes his smile grow wider, more malicious. “And now, I no longer like my offer.” He chuckles, and his minions laugh with him, the sound echoing off the walls. “Now that there is no Alpha fit to lead Moonstone, your pack will be forced to join mine.” “Never,” I spit through gritted teeth. “We will never join you.” The venom in my voice cuts him, and his smile vanishes, replaced by a scowl that makes him look every inch the monster he is. “Then I will give the order to slit all their throats,” he says, his voice booming like thunder, shaking the very walls. “Either your people join my pack as omegas… or they all die.” His words hit like a punch to the gut, stealing the breath from my lungs. I look around the room at my pack—every face familiar, every life precious. They stand ready to fight, ready to die. But the odds are against us, and the decision falls on me. Live in shame or die in honor—both paths lead to despair. “Liv...” Emery’s voice is a desperate plea behind me. He places a hand on my shoulder, leaning in close. “Don’t let your pride get them killed,” he whispers, the words like poison. “We will figure out something with time. Take his deal.” Tears burn in my eyes as I look around, searching for the strength to make the impossible choice. My father’s guard stands ready, their eyes locked on me, waiting for the signal to fight. And then there’s Emery—urging me to surrender, but ready to protect me at any cost. “What’s it going to be, girl?” Alpha Whitefang’s voice crashes through the silence like a tidal wave. He hurls a silver dagger at my feet, the blade gleaming in the light. Slowly, I bend down, my hand shaking as I pick up the dagger. I want to plunge it into his heart, to end him here and now. But instead, I turn the blade around and hold it out to him, offering the handle like a token of surrender. I drop to one knee before him, bowing my head in submission, just as I’ve seen omegas do before my father a thousand times. Emery follows, and then my father’s guard. One by one, my pack takes a knee, submitting to Whitefang, their heads bowed in defeat.