Exiled Luna

Chapter Six: The Hunters

High Clan Royal City, Moon Temple.

The same morning light fell across my sister's desk. She sat poised before it, her fingers holding a blank scroll, her other hand gripping a quill. The tip hovered above the parchment, unmoving.

"Your Highness the Luna," a black-armored guard knelt before the steps. "The hunting party is ready. We await your command."

My sister did not look up. She gazed through the window at the moonlit city she now overlooked from the highest seat, and said softly:

"How long do you think she will last? Alone?"

The guard hesitated. "Your Highness means... Elowen?"

"Yes." Her quill finally touched the parchment, marking a single character, then stopped. She stared at that one stroke, and the warmth in her eyes slowly faded, revealing something cold beneath—the glint of a predator. "She was drained of her power, branded, thrown into the barbarian wilds. I thought she would not survive the first night."

"But she is alive," the guard said quietly. "Our scouts report she survived in the wilds—and someone took her in."

My sister's hand stiffened almost imperceptibly. She raised her head and looked at the guard for the first time, something dark flickering in her gaze—something even she might not have noticed.

"Alive?"

She set down the quill slowly, her fingers tapping the desk, one beat after another, like a death knell.

"Then let her not stay alive for long."

She picked up the quill again—this time without pause, writing a single line in one smooth stroke. She rolled the scroll and handed it to the guard, her voice as gentle as if she were ordering something perfectly routine:

"Pass this down—if she is seen in barbarian territory, kill on sight."

The guard received the order and bowed out. My sister watched his retreating back, then added, her voice barely a sigh:

"Make it clean. Do not stain the High Clan's name."

She turned back to her desk, picked up her quill, and resumed reviewing the day's petitions—as though the words she had just spoken were nothing more than a trivial aside in a busy morning.

She did not know that the death warrant she had just signed was already flying across a thousand miles toward the wilderness—toward the sister she believed dead, but who was still very much alive.



—Barbarian Wilds, the Settlement.

My first night in the settlement, I learned this was no safe haven.

Kaelen had given me a small wooden hut at the edge of the village, saying it was "good for training." But that night, lying on the stiff furs, I could not settle. My nose kept catching a faint, elusive scent of blood—thin, yet lingering, as though it had soaked into the very soil.

At dawn, I followed that smell to an open space on the settlement's outskirts. There stood several thick wooden posts, rusted chains wrapped around them. The ground beneath was stained dark brown. I crouched and touched the dried discoloration with my fingertips—my stomach dropped.

Blood. Old blood, spilled again and again over the years.

"Left by the High Clan's hunting parties." Kaelen's voice came from behind me. He stood there, watching the posts, his face unreadable. "Every year around this time, they cross the border to take captives. Barbarians they drag back end up as laborers—or trophies. Those who can't be caught are dealt with on the spot."

My fists tightened. In the High Clan, I had never known this. I had believed the High Clan was righteous, orderly, the Moon Goddess's chosen people. But in that moment, I saw for the first time what the High Clan truly was to others.

"Why don't you stop them?" I demanded. "You are the Cycle Wolf King. You could—"

"Could what?" He cut me off. "Kill them all? That would only bring more hunting parties. The barbarian way is not about short-term vengeance—it is about survival."

He paused, fixing me with his gaze. "So I need someone who can stand on their own. Someone to hold the line against those who cross into our lands."

I opened my mouth to reply, but before I could speak, a sharp horn blast cut through the morning stillness from the settlement's entrance. Shouts erupted—chaos, panic.

"Hunters! The High Clan hunters are here!"

Kaelen's face darkened. He turned and strode toward the entrance, and I followed close behind.

At the gateway, chaos reigned. Several barbarian wolves were dragging wounded companions back, and beyond the threshold, a squad of High Clan wolves in silver-white armor pressed forward. Ears low, muscles taut—the predatory snarl of hunters.

At their head stood a massive High Clan wolf—high-ranked, broad-shouldered. His eyes swept the settlement, then stopped on me.

"Elowen?" He narrowed his gaze, then broke into a savage grin. "The High Clan's exiled princess, hiding among barbarians? How interesting. Looks like today I get more than a few barbarian captives—I get the head of a traitor."

My blood chilled. He recognized me. And his look was not just a hunter's hunger—it carried the certainty of one acting on orders.

"Who sent you after me?" I held his gaze, my voice tight.

"What do you think?" He sneered. "Her Highness the Luna has ordered—if you are found in barbarian territory, kill on sight."

Her Highness the Luna. My sister.

I stood frozen, blood turning to ice. She had not simply cast me out—she had issued a death warrant. She was afraid of me living, afraid that one day I would return and tear down her mask.

"So," the hunter jeered, stepping closer, "are you coming quietly, or do we make this messy?"

My fists clenched, nails biting into my palms. The shame-brand burned on my back, and the cycle-power churned in my veins—fear, yes, but also rage.

I knew—my first life-or-death reckoning had arrived.