Bound by the moon

ASHES OF SCORN

The morning light bled pale across the Bloodfang fortress, its walls looming like a prison carved from shadow and stone. From the training grounds came the harsh ring of steel, the grunts of warriors locked in combat. The air itself carried a weight of violence, thick with the scent of sweat and blood.

When Selena was led into the courtyard, all eyes turned on her. She stood at the edge, her frame slight against the rows of hardened wolves. Whispers rippled through the gathered pack, rising like a wave of disdain.

“Too fragile.”

“She won’t last a week.”

“The Alpha brought back an omega to be our Luna?”

The words cut sharper than blades. Mocking laughter broke from the crowd, cruel and unrestrained. Some spat on the stones near her feet; others looked at her with open contempt, as if her very presence soiled the ground they stood on.

Kael stood at the center, towering above the rest, his sword glinting in the sun. His golden eyes swept over the warriors, then fixed on her. His face betrayed no warmth, no mercy. Only judgment.

“Step forward,” his voice rang out, hard as iron.

Selena moved, though her knees trembled beneath her gown. The weight of a hundred hostile stares pressed against her. Every step felt like sinking deeper into an abyss.

When she reached him, Kael circled her like a predator assessing prey. The silence was suffocating, broken only by the scrape of his boots across the stone.

“Do you know why you are here?” His tone carried no trace of kindness.

Selena hesitated. Her lips parted, but no words came.

“She doesn’t even know,” someone sneered from the crowd. More laughter followed.

Kael did not silence them. His gaze, sharp and merciless, locked on her again. “You are here because strength is not given. It is taken. If you are to stand among wolves, you will fight like one. Or you will break.”

A warrior stepped forward at Kael’s signal, tossing her a wooden blade. Selena caught it clumsily. Her fingers shook, the rough hilt biting into her palms.

The courtyard echoed with scorn.

“Look at her hands. She’s never held a weapon.”

“She’ll drop it before the first strike.”

Kael did not rebuke them. His silence allowed their ridicule to swell, feeding on itself, a storm of hatred aimed solely at her.

Then Kael struck.

He moved with the speed of lightning, his sword slamming against her wooden blade with a crack that sent pain shooting up her arms. The force nearly toppled her. She stumbled back, gasping, only to meet another strike.

Again.

And again.

The crowd laughed each time she staggered, each time her arms faltered. Selena gritted her teeth, lifting the blade again and again, refusing to fall even as tears burned in her eyes.

Her body screamed in protest. Her wrists bled where the wood cut into her skin. Yet still, she stood.

But Kael did not relent. His strikes came harder, faster, forcing her across the stones until, at last, her blade slipped from her grasp and clattered to the ground.

The courtyard erupted in cruel laughter.

“She’s finished already.”

“Pathetic.”

“This is the Luna Bloodfang has been given? An insult to the pack.”

Selena stood frozen, empty-handed and breathless, their scorn a storm battering her from every side. Her chest heaved, her body trembled, but she did not flee.

Kael’s golden eyes burned into her, but his expression remained cold, unreadable. He did not shield her from their hatred. He let it fall over her like fire, as though it was another weapon in his arsenal.

When silence finally fell, he spoke—not to her, but to the pack.

“This is what she is. Weak. Small. Breakable.” His voice cut through the air like a blade. “But she will remain. She will learn. Whether by her will… or mine.”

The words carried no defense, no reassurance. Only command.

The pack bowed reluctantly, some sneering even as they obeyed. To them, Selena was nothing but a burden their Alpha had chosen to drag into their midst.

Kael turned from her without another word, striding away with the confidence of a man who needed no explanation.

Selena bent slowly, lifting the blade from the ground. Her fingers closed around it, blood smearing the wood. The mockery of the pack still echoed in her ears, searing her pride. Hatred burned in their eyes—and something colder in Kael’s, something far more dangerous.

After the courtyard trial, she was led not to a place of honor but to a small chamber tucked away in the eastern wing. Its walls were bare, the bed little more than straw covered with rough linen. A single torch sputtered in the corner, its smoke curling into the stale air.

It was not the chamber of a Luna. It was a cell.

Two maidens of the pack stood at the doorway, their lips curled in disdain as they regarded her.

“So this is Kael’s choice?” one scoffed, her tone dripping with disbelief.

“Looks more like a stray than a Luna,” the other said, crossing her arms. “Pathetic.”

Their laughter lingered in the air long after they left her alone. Selena sat on the edge of the rough bedding, her body still aching from Kael’s merciless strikes. Her palms were torn, her shoulders bruised, but her pride was the thing most wounded.

She wanted to weep, but the thought of their laughter silenced her tears.

---

The next day came with no reprieve. Selena was summoned to the Great Hall, where the pack gathered for their evening meal. The hall was vast, its ceiling held aloft by pillars carved with snarling wolves. Fires blazed in the hearths, but the warmth did not reach her.

At the head of the table sat Kael, his presence commanding, his golden eyes casting shadows across the room. To his left and right, his warriors feasted, their voices loud with laughter and boasting. The scent of roasted meat filled the air, but when Selena entered, silence fell.

Dozens of eyes turned on her, burning with the same hatred she had felt in the courtyard.

Kael did not rise to greet her. He did not even gesture toward a seat beside him. Instead, he lifted his goblet, his expression unreadable, and let the silence stretch until it became unbearable.

Finally, one of the warriors broke it with a sneer.

“Tell me, little Luna,” he said, his voice mocking, “do you know how to carve a stag? Or will you faint at the sight of blood?”

Laughter followed, sharp and cruel.

Another chimed in, “Perhaps she should serve us first. Let her prove she is worthy of the title.”

The suggestion was met with jeers of agreement.

Selena’s face burned, but she stood her ground. She would not kneel. She would not beg. Her silence seemed to amuse them even more.

“Too proud to answer,” one of the pack’s women spat. “Useless pride is still useless.”

Kael remained silent, watching her with the same cold detachment as before. He let their words rain down on her, offered no shield, no comfort.

At last, his voice broke through the laughter, cutting across the hall like a blade.

“She is here because I have chosen it.” His tone carried no warmth, only command. “You may mock her. You may despise her. But you will not defy me.”

The laughter died instantly. Chairs scraped as the warriors bowed their heads, their obedience to him absolute even in their scorn.

Selena’s heart pounded, though Kael’s words brought no relief. He had not defended her worth he had only reminded them of his dominance. To them, she remained a burden forced upon their table.

The meal resumed, the noise swelling again, though the sneers and mutters never ceased. Selena ate little, her hands trembling with each bite. Every sound, every look, reminded her she was a stranger in a den of wolves who wanted her gone.

---

Later that night, as the fortress slept, Selena sat once more in her chamber. The wooden blade from the courtyard lay across her lap, its surface stained with her blood. She traced the rough grain with her fingers, her body aching, her heart heavy.

The voices of the pack still echoed in her ears weak, unworthy, pathetic.

But beneath the weight of their hatred, something stirred inside her. A spark.

She lifted the blade, her grip firm despite the pain. She swung it once, twice, her movements clumsy but determined. The torchlight caught her eyes, reflecting something harder than before.

They wanted her to break.

They wanted her to crawl.

But she would not.

If the Bloodfang pack wished to see her destroyed, then they would have to watch her rise from the ashes of their scorn.

And as for Kael… his coldness cut deeper than any blade, yet she would endure it. Whether he had chosen her out of cruelty, duty, or some dark secret, she would not let him be her undoing.

She would learn their ways. She would face their hatred. And one day, she would make them choke on the name they spat so freely now.

Selena of Crescent Shadows.

Selena, Luna of Bloodfang.

The night pressed heavy around her, but the spark within refused to die.