Rise Of The Forsaken Luna

Chapter 6

FREYA

I dragged myself out into the yard, pressing one hand against my side where the wound throbbed. My steps were uneven, but I kept moving. The clash of steel and guttural roars echoed from the outskirts of the territory, and the scent of blood already tainted the air.

When I lifted my gaze, my heart nearly dropped.

From the distance I could see our warriors...my people...fighting desperately to hold the Cryptic Moon wolves back. They were outnumbered, overwhelmed, their lines already bending under the pressure. The enemy fought with the ferocity of a storm, relentless, merciless. And any moment now, if nothing changed, they would break through.

If they reached the main house… everyone inside...every child, every mother, every elder...would be torn apart.

No. I couldn’t let it happen.

I stumbled forward, the earth trembling faintly with each clash of bodies. My pulse thundered in my ears. Every instinct told me I was walking toward death, but my soul whispered something else.

And then—he saw me.

“Luna Freya!” Zarek’s voice cracked like a whip through the chaos. His eyes widened in shock, anger and fear. He broke from the line just enough to scream at me, his voice raw. “What are you doing out here? Go back inside!”

My chest tightened at the sound of his voice. A part of me wanted to obey. After all, I could say I tried. But I knew if I did… it would all be over.

I shook my head and ignored his command. The words ripped out of me in a scream that surprised even me: “Step back!”

The noise was so much that no one heard me, but Zarek did.

His face hardened, a look of disbelief written across every sharp line. He knew. He knew exactly what I was about to do, and horror flashed in his eyes. He shook his head as though trying to will me into stopping. But I wasn't doing it for him, so he had no right to stop me.

“Don’t—Freya, don’t!” His voice was strained, desperate.

But I was already closing my eyes.

The world dimmed, and I sank into that part of myself I had always feared—the fire coiled deep in my blood, ancient and wild, burning behind locked doors in my soul. My body trembled as I reached for it, and when I opened my eyes again, I felt the shift.

The air crackled around me. My vision sharpened, glowing heat spilling across my sight. I didn’t need to see myself to know my eyes had changed.

Zarek froze, and I saw his lips form the word no. Then, with a sharp, resigned motion, he snapped his head toward the warriors. “Stand back! Everyone, fall behind the line!”

Confusion rippled through our ranks at first, but then they understood. They saw me. They saw what was coming. One by one, the warriors retreated into the heart of the territory, their movements tense.

But the Cryptic Moon didn’t stop. They snarled and pushed forward, sensing weakness, certain they could tear us apart if they pressed harder.

I raised my hand, every vein in my body straining as I pulled on that fire. It surged inside me, hot and violent, like trying to hold back the eruption of a volcano. My throat tightened as I screamed—not in fear, but in summoning.

The ground beneath my feet shuddered. A roar that was not entirely mine ripped through the air. And then… fire.

Flames burst forth, searing and wild, racing along the invisible line I carved with my will. A wall of dragon fire erupted between us and the enemy, blazing so bright the night itself couldn't withstand it.

The first line of Cryptic Moon warriors never even had the chance to scream. They had stepped too close, too eager for blood, and the fire devoured them instantly. Flesh, fur, bone—gone in a heartbeat, reduced to ash that scattered in the wind.

The others reeled back in shock. For a moment, their courage cracked, terror flashing in their eyes. And when the flames reached for them...tongues of fire rolling forward like hungry beasts...they broke. The survivors turned and fled, their howls of panic slicing through the smoke.

I held the wall steady, teeth gritted, every muscle in my body burning as though the fire was consuming me as well. My knees threatened to give out, but I refused to fall until I saw it...until I saw them retreat, disappearing into the shadows beyond the trees.

Only then did I let go.

The fire hissed and snapped, thinning until nothing but scorched earth remained between us and the night.

My vision swam, black creeping in at the edges. My body felt hollow, drained of every last shred of strength. I swayed, the world tilting around me.

Zarek’s voice reached me faintly. “Luna Freya!”

I tried to say something...anything...but no sound came. My knees buckled.

And then there was only darkness.

---

ZAREK

The moment Freya’s body gave way in my arms, panic tore through me like claws across flesh. She was burning up, her skin hot against mine, and yet she shivered as though caught in the dead of winter. I didn’t think—I just scooped her up and barked at the nearest warriors.

“Clear the ward! Get the bed ready—now!”

They didn’t question me. None of them did. Perhaps it was the desperation in my voice, or perhaps even they, hardened men who’d followed Nero into countless battles, felt the weight of Freya’s suffering.

One of them hurried ahead, pushing aside abandoned sheets and blood-stained instruments. Another sprinted off, fetching water to cool her burning body.

And I—I carried her.

Her head lolled against my shoulder, strands of her dark hair clinging to the sweat beading on her forehead. I’d seen her fight with fire before...literally, with the dragon flame that both awed and terrified everyone who dared stand against her. But never had I seen her pay so heavy a price. The fire had taken too much this time.

I laid her gently on the bed, as though the slightest wrong touch might shatter her entirely. My chest heaved. Not from the weight...I could carry her across continents if I had to...but from the helplessness clawing through me.

“Don’t just stand there!” I snapped at one of the warriors lingering by the door. "Find the doctor! Or a nurse—anyone who hasn’t fled!”

He bolted without another word. I clenched my fists, forcing myself not to pace. I couldn’t move her again. If I carried her across the city searching for a healer, the journey itself might kill her. And what doctor could I trust with her condition anyway? She wasn’t… normal. Werewolves can't be treated by mundane doctors... And Freya wasn't just a werewolf.

She wasn’t like us. She was more.

The water came, and we soaked cloths, laying them across her burning skin. I dabbed at her forehead, watching her lips part as though she were trying to speak. Her eyes fluttered beneath closed lids, but no sound came out. I leaned close, desperate to catch even a whisper.

“Freya… stay with me,” I murmured, my voice cracking despite the steel I usually wore. “Don’t let go. Don’t give up. Do you hear me?”

I didn’t know if she did. But I kept talking. As if sheer stubbornness could keep her soul here when everything else was dragging her away.

gods, this was my fault.

I knew what Nero planned when he came to me with that twisted scheme. And like the coward I was, I’d helped him. I’d stood there, feeding her lies, watching her walk willingly into that operating room, believing she was saving her mate. Believing she still had a place here.

But she hadn’t been saving Nero. She had been saving his so-called ex-lover...now his chosen Luna.

Her body wasn't ready to use her powers, yet she did it to protect this damn pack still.

Her chest rose and fell in uneven bursts, her breath shallow, as though each inhale was a battle she was losing. Her face was pale beneath the sheen of sweat. I had seen warriors bleed out on battlefields, seen them torn apart by rogues and left gasping for air. But none of it twisted the knife in me like that.

“Why do you keep fighting?” I whispered, brushing damp hair from her face. “We betrayed you, Freya. We cast you aside. He cast you aside. And yet you still burn yourself to protect the pack.”

Her loyalty made no sense. But the truth was, it humbled me. Because despite everything...she still carried the title of Luna in her heart.

Even if it killed her.

A sound broke my spiraling thoughts—the door creaking open. The warrior I’d sent out stumbled in, breathless and empty-handed.

“No doctor,” he said quickly, avoiding my gaze. “They’re all gone.”

Cowards.

I pressed another cool cloth onto Freya’s skin, swallowing hard. If anything happened to her, I'd never forgive myself.

Her body arched suddenly, a weak cry escaping her lips. I pinned her shoulders gently, terrified the strain might rip open wounds that hadn’t healed since the surgery.

“I’ve got you,” I said firmly, even as my throat tightened. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

But the lie tasted bitter. Because the truth was, I already had.

---

The minutes dragged like hours. Warriors moved in and out, bringing what little they could find. I crushed herbs with my own hands, mixed poultices the way I’d seen healers do once in a battlefield camp. I wasn’t sure it would work, but it was something. Anything.

At some point, exhaustion caught me. My head sank to the edge of the bed, my hand still clutching hers. I must have drifted, because the next thing I knew, a weak whisper brushed my ear.

“Zarek…?”

Her voice. Faint, broken, but there. My head shot up, and relief crashed over me so violently it nearly dropped me to my knees.

“Yes, Luna Freya,” I said quickly, leaning close. “I’m right here.”

She tried to speak again, but her lips barely moved. I squeezed her hand, desperate to anchor her back.

“Don’t waste your strength. Just rest.”