The Lethal Luna

Fear

SOPHIA

Mira was the first to move.

Tall, graceful, and glittering like polished obsidian, she walked toward me with the kind of confidence that only comes from being adored too long without question. I was once like her, back when I was still Princess. Now, I’m not sure what I am. Monster? Rogue? Murderer?

Her silk robe swayed around her ankles. Her eyes were the kind that cut; sharp, amused, hungry to wound. I know her type.

"So this is the famous little wolf," she said, circling me slowly, her voice like syrup hiding poison.

I said nothing. I didn't flinch when she stopped in front of me, only inches away. She wanted a reaction, I gave her none.

Behind her, other women watched; some with interest, some with pity, some with flat expressions that told me they'd already picked a side. One of them, a girl with auburn hair and freckles, avoided my eyes entirely. Another, dark-haired with a coiled tension in her posture, raised a brow as if waiting to see if I'd explode.

"This one won't last long," Mira said to no one in particular, then turned on her heel.

The ladies didn’t pay me much attention. Good, I need to be left alone to heal and strategize.

A guard tossed me a bundle of rough cotton clothing, stiff and faded, already fraying at the seams. I caught it before it hit the floor.

They led me to a corner room. If you could call it that. It was more of a cell with a window too small to crawl through and a mattress that crunched with straw when I sat on it. There was no blanket and no pillow. They think they could break me with this.

I walked back to the common room, chin high, shoulders square. Rory stood at the edge of the hall, speaking to someone in hushed tones. When he looked up, his gaze met mine.

I didn’t look away.

Neither did he.

When night fell, I slept on that straw mattress, ate cold food, and waited. As the day broke, the summons came.

They dragged me to the training grounds, open space filled with snarling wolves, men, and eyes. Rory stood at the centre, arms crossed, expression neutral but powerful enough to silence the crowd.

“I was impressed by your performance, Sophia,” he said more to the murmuring audience than to me. “I want to see just how good you can be, it’ll be a waste to let your talent waste amongst the rogues.”

My eyes scanned the audience. We’re in the centre of an amphitheatre, all eyes on me. They started chanting slowly, their tempo increasing. Of course, their Alpha could take down the weak rogue. I found Mira sat amongst the other harem women, she’s too busy admiring Rory.

Rory gave me a nod. “Go on.”

He wanted to see if I could shift. To prove my worth or maybe to break me in front of everyone.

I stood still, heart pounding. The words to order me to shift came, but I refused. I wasn’t some broken beast to be controlled.

That’s when the armoured guard stepped forward, a cruel smile on his face. He lashed me with a silver whip. Pain tore through my back, sharp and biting. Blood dripped down my spine. The message was clear: obey or be punished.

The audience’s chanting increased with each lash of the whip.

Something inside me snapped.

The ground beneath us trembled faintly, a low hum rising in my chest. My eyes flared violet, glowing fiercely in the fading light.

I didn’t shift. Instead, I let out a psychic scream, a scream that ripped through the air and shattered the silence.

The guard who struck me flew backward, crashing into the stone wall with a sickening c***k. His spine was broken.

Everyone froze, even Rory.

I stared him down, unafraid.

For the first time, I saw something flicker in his eyes, respect. Or maybe fear.

Deafening silence followed.

The guard lay crumpled near the stone wall, his body twisted in a way that screamed finality. Blood leaked from his mouth, seeping into the cracks beneath him. The arena held its breath, hundreds of eyes, hundreds of hearts frozen in place.

The air around me was still vibrating from the force of the scream. My breath came shallow and sharp, I tried hard not to tremble. My back burned from the silver lashes, my fists clenched at my sides, and my eyes still glowing faint violet. I silently dared anyone to come closer.

Rory remained rooted near the outer ring, sword still sheathed, but his expression had shifted from distant amusement to wary intensity.

Then, a murmur started, it was soft at first, like a whisper of wind through dry leaves.

“Did you see that?”

“She didn’t shift.”

“What the hell is she?”

And then louder:

“Witch.”

“Monster.”

“She’s cursed!”

The spell broke.

The roar swelled like a storm crashing over the amphitheatre and screams erupted. Someone flung the first object, a half-rotten tomato that splattered against the stone near my foot. Then came another. Then a hail of them. Fruit, dirt, scraps of food, anything they could find. My shoulder jerked as something hard struck it. A sour apple hit my jaw. The sting didn’t hurt as much as the rage did.

“Rogue scum!”

“Kill the witch!”

“She’s not one of us!”

I didn't flinch but inside, my pulse throbbed with fury. The crowd wanted my blood.

Guards surged forward from the perimeter, about four of them. No, six of them, armed and armored, their eyes held no mercy. Not after what I did to one of their own. One came at me with a club raised high.

I moved with precision. I ducked the first blow, slammed my elbow into his ribs, grabbed his falling weapon, and spun low, taking out the legs of another as he charged. He hit the ground with a thud and a grunt.

Another lunged. I kicked him square in the throat.

Pain flared along my side where someone clipped me, but I ignored it. They kept coming, but so did I. I became faster, angrier, and more brutal

“STOP!”

The Alpha’s voice boomed but it barely cracked through the frenzy. The mob was blind with rage, deaf to reason. The guards kept coming. Another tackled me, heavy and reeking of sweat and blood. I twisted, kneeing him in the groin, and shoved him off but a fist clipped my temple. My vision blurred.

“Enough!” Rory’s voice again, this time louder.

But still, no one stopped.

Then came the blade.

It sang through the air with a sound too clean, and then it sliced clean through one of the guard’s arms.

A shocked scream rang out as the man crumpled to his knees, clutching the bleeding stump, his blade clattering to the ground.

Like a thread had been pulled and everything unraveled at once. The other guards froze mid-motion. One dropped his weapon. Another took two steps back, eyes wide. Then, slowly, each of them turned and dropped to one knee before Rory, blood splashing onto the dirt beneath them.

The Alpha stood in the middle of the ring, sword gleaming red in the waning sunlight, his eyes locked on mine.

“Do. Not. Touch. Her.” His voice was low and deadly.

Then, to the guards: “Take her back to her quarters.”

They hesitated only a second longer before obeying, lifting the fallen and dragging the others out. I stood alone in the centre of the arena, heart thundering, clothes torn and bloodied.

Everyone was staring at me. They looked at me like I had crawled up from the pits of hell. Not a soul moved, not a whisper. Just rows and rows of stunned, horrified faces. Warriors, servants, even the harem women, all of them stared.

The guard with the severed arm groaned as he was carried off, and still, no one turned away. They didn’t dare blink.

“Monster,” someone muttered.

“Witch,” another breathed, louder.

“Rogue freak,” hissed a voice from the crowd.

I stood tall in the middle of it all, refusing to shrink under their disgust. My back ached from the silver lash, blood still trickled along my spine but my chin remained high. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of fear.

One by one, the murmurs began again.

“She killed him with her mind.”

“She didn’t even shift.”

“She’s cursed.”

“An abomination.”

A tomato flew and splattered against my side, staining the cotton fabric of my dress. Another came, a clump of dirt. Then more; fruit, pebbles and a rotten apple that burst on impact.

I was surprised I wasn’t dodging arrows and daggers. I scanned the crowd until my eyes landed on Mira.

Perched on her polished bench, she looked down at me, her painted lips curled into a sneer. Hate simmered in her eyes but I smiled.