Cursed at Birth, Crowned by the Moon

King Raegan's fist slammed against the arm of his obsidian throne. The sound echoed through the stone hall like a bone breaking. His personal guard, Kieran, shuddered. "It's gone," Raegan said. His voice was low, a controlled tremor of fury. "My ring. Find it." The ring wasn't just a piece of jewelry. It was a band of forged black iron, set with a moonstone that glowed with the power of the pack authority. The order was given, and the Ironfang pack's quiet night turned to chaos. Guards in leather armor stormed into the village, kicking down doors, overturning cots. The air filled with the sound of splintering wood, the cries of children, and the low, fearful murmurs of the pack. They feared their king's wrath more than any enemy. His twin brother, Eric, was led before the throne by two burly guards. Eric's hands were bound, but he stood tall. The hall fell silent. "Where is it?" Raegen asked, not looking at his twin brother, but at his own bare finger. "I didn't take it," Eric said. The resemblance in their faces was uncanny: the same sharp jaw, the same dark eyes. But where Raegen's gaze was as icy as winter, Eric's was as firm as the earth. "It was in your chambers," Raegen stated, finally meeting his gaze. "Hidden beneath the floorboards." A murmur rippled through the assembled crowd. Eric's expression hardened with disbelief. " That is a lie, King Raegen, we shared a womb. Why would I steal from you?" "Because you're weak," Raegen said, rising. And you have always coveted what is mine. He stepped down from the platform. The crowd parted. He didn't order his guards to do his bidding. This, he would do himself. He dragged Eric through the mud of the central enclosure, past the people. His neighbors, Erynx and his wife, Liana, watched from the doorway. Erynx's face was tight with bitter satisfaction. Just that morning, Eric had returned from the hunt with two large stags; his skill was a silent rebuke to Erynx's when he returned empty-handed. "Look at him," Erynx whispered to Liana, his voice thick with envy disguised as pity. "First Raegen's father, now him." Liana gripped her husband's arm, her eyes wide. "His own father," she whispered, remembering the old king hanged from the Great Oak for selling the pack's expensive lands to traitors. "Raegen showed no mercy then. He shows none now." On the banks of the Blackflow River, the water churned, black and violent under the rising moon. King Raegen pushed Eric to his knees on the bank. Eric looked up, not at the king, but at the pack he loved. His voice, as it reached him, was clear and carried through the cold air. "You let fear control you! You murder your own flesh and blood and call it justice!" Raegen's hand tightened on his twin brother's shoulder. Eric turned his head, and his composure finally shattered. He looked directly into his twin's eyes. "For this, brother, I curse you. May your strength become a prison. May your pack know eternal troubles. May every victory turn to ashes in your mouth." King Raegen's face showed nothing. He pushed. Eric fell without a sound. The black water swallowed him instantly. The only evidence that he had ever been there was the violent, swirling current. There was no stifled scream from the crowd. Only a deep, collective stillness. Then, a slow, terrified dispersal. People hurried home, heads bowed, locking their doors. The night was no longer safe. But at a small cabin that smelled of dried herbs and pine, Eric's wife, Serah waited. Her back ached; the weight of her nine-month pregnancy was a constant presence. She stirred a pot of stew, her ear straining at the path outside. Eric was never this late. The door burst open. Her best friend, Nyra, stood there, her chest heaving, her dress spattered with mud. Her eyes were red and wide. "Nyra? What's wrong? Where's Eric?" Nyra stumbled forward, grabbing Serah's arms. She held her tightly. "Serah, you have to listen to me." "Tell me." Serah's voice was a fearful whisper. "The king... His ring was gone. He framed Eric. He... took him to the Black Flow." Nyra's words came out choked. "He threw him in, Serah. Raegen himself. Eric is gone." The words were meaningless. They were sounds that shattered her mind. Then, the realization hit like a physical blow. A sharp, tearing pain shot through her abdomen, so sharp she screamed and doubled over. A warm current flooded her skirts. Her vision blurred. “No, no, no,” Nyra crooned, transforming from a harbinger of death into a midwife by sheer will. She helped the staggering Serah onto the bed. The hours faded into a long, dark tunnel of pain. The contractions came, fierce and relentless, but Serah's body was consumed by the agony. She couldn't find the strength to push. Each surge was drowned by the image playing in her eyes: Eric's face, the dark water, his final silence. “Serah, please! You have to meet your child!” Nyra pleaded, wiping her friend's forehead with a cool cloth. Serah was fading. She turned her head, her skin pale. Her eyes, glassy with exhaustion, met Nyra's. “Take my baby,” she whispered, each word a struggle. “Leave here. Promise me. I know Raegen… will kill anything of Eric’s.” “Don’t ask me that,” Nyra sobbed. “Promise me!” It was a final, desperate command. Serah’s body gave one last, faint final push. She looked at her baby, “cursed are you my child for bringing sorrow to me. She turned her face toward the small window, where the moon hung, cold and watchful. Tears traced its way across the dirt on her cheek. The life in her eyes slowly faded, vanished, and died. In the terrible silence that followed, Nyra, her hands shaking violently, acted on instinct. She caught the tiny, slippery body as it entered the world. It is a girl. She wiped the baby’s nose and mouth. For a second, there was nothing. Then the baby’s chest contracted. A weak, furious cry of a baby broke the silence: a sound of deep protest against the darkness into which she had been born. Nyra wrapped the child in the softest blanket she could find, pressing the writhing, crying baby to her chest. Her gaze shifted from the baby's red, wrinkled face to Serah's pale one, still lying on the pillow. The promise hung heavy in the room. Hastily, Nyra gathered some supplies: a water skin, a piece of bread, a clean shirt. She wrapped the baby tightly against her chest, stifling the cries. With one last look at her friend, she blew out the candle and slipped into the night. She fled into the deep, dense forest beyond the cabin, away from King Raegen, away from the cursed pack. The moon, that cold crown in the sky, was her only witness as she ran; the warmth of the newborn against her skin, the only testament to the two lost lives of Eric and Serah. Their new baby, born under a curse and a death, started to cry.