Discovery-2
1541 Words
CELIA
Two hours of reading these books didn’t actually go to waste.
Which is honestly kind of shocking, because normally, when I was 17, after thirty minutes, my brain checks out and starts thinking about food, sleep, or my entire life regrets and the only thing that kept me going back then was the pressure from papa and the fact that his mistress brought in a jealous girl my age.
But this time, I actually learned stuff.
So, apparently, this place—World 07 or whatever that mechanical voice called it—is named Mooncrest.
Cute right? Sounds like a skincare brand or something.
Mooncrest is ruled by werewolves. And the full-blooded first generation ones who are the royal family, are called Lycans, which basically means “boss werewolves.”
To the east of Mooncrest is Elvaria, the elf kingdom.
To the west is Brujah.
Yes.
Brujah.
The… wait… Jesussss. The Vampire kingdom.
I pause and reread that line like it’s going to suddenly apologize and say just kidding.
It doesn’t.
I glance up from the book, staring at the ceiling.
So, apart from elves, vampires exist here too
Amazing.
I die once and wake up inside a supernatural group chat.
I shake my head and continue to read.
Apparently, north of all of this is some massive wasteland where a huge war happened between Mooncrest and Brujah, with Elvaria caught in the middle like the third friend during a couple drama.
They call it something intense like “The Great War of the Two” or something equally cinematic. A lot of people died, lands got messed up, everybody eventually got tired of killing each other and signed a truce.
Classic.
Very tragic though.
But… not my business.
So, I flip the page.
Unfortunately, this next part is my business.
The page talks about the Moon Goddess, Selene, and how she placed some ancient oath on the Valmorra household.
Basically, the Valmorras are the divine enforcers of the law. If Mooncrest were a kingdom, we’d be the scary people you never want knocking on your door at midnight.
We can hold anyone responsible for their actions. Including the royal family. Especially the royal family. It's more like the oath was bestowed for the purpose of balance of power.
Well, lucky me.
They say people awaken their wolves at sixteen and after that, they can shift into their wolf form like it's stretching after a nap.
But me? Celia Sterling?
Blehhhh.
I can barely shift into emotional stability since I got here hours ago not to talk less of wolf form.
My eyes shifts to Annabel who's sleeping opposite me, frame hidden behind the huge stack of books before me, the only sign that she's there being her soft snores.
Should I tell her that I can’t transform? Or is that the kind of information that gets you quietly locked in a tower somewhere “for your own safety”? Or maybe stoned to death or suddenly turned into an outcast
I sigh and flip another page.
The sound makes Annabel jerk awake in her chair. Her eyes are a bit disoriented and she rubs it aggressively just before they fly to the hourglass on the table and they widen like saucers.
“My–my lady,” She calls, standing up abruptly. She sways a little before quickly grabbing the table for support. “It has been some time. I believe it is time to—”
“Two hours is not a long time,” I cut in. “That’s barely… anything.”
She looks confused.
Fair. That sentence made sense only in my head.
I go back to reading.
And then my eyes catch something and my brain trips over itself.
The Moon Goddess oath awakens fully in the first Valmorra offspring upon reaching the age of eighteen…
I slowly lift my head.
“Annabel,” I say. “When do I… clock eighteen?”
She blinks. “Clock?”
Right. Modern language again.
I clear my throat, trying to find the right wording before finally settling for, “When do I complete my eighteenth year of life?”
She nods. “In two months, my lady. That is also when you will depart for the Royal Academy.”
Two months.
I stare at her.
Then I stare back at the book.
Then I stare at the ceiling again like maybe the ceiling has opinions on this.
Two months is… nothing.
That’s definitely not enough time to figure out how to survive a supernatural society, learn combat or whatever that's not taekwondo, do exercise that's not pilate, control a wolf I don’t even have access to, and emotionally process the fact that I literally died.
That’s even barely enough time to finish a Netflix series.
A small knot tightens in my chest.
What if the oath awakens and nothing happens?
Or worse — something happens and I can’t control it?
What if everyone realizes I’m not really… her.
Not really the girl, Celia Valmorra.
Just a very confused dead woman named Celia Sterling.
“Annabel,” I say quietly, without looking at her.
“Has anyone ever… failed to awaken the oath?”
Her expression shifts. Not scared or nervous but careful as she leans forward.
“The records say the oath has never failed to awaken in a true Valmorra heir,” she answers slowly before smiling. “And you are one. You have a powerful wolf too so they complement each other really really well.”
Oh.
That’s comforting.
So if mine fails, congratulations to me — historical disappointment unlocked.
I swallow.
“Good,” I mumble, shifting my attention back to the book. “Love being special.”
Annabel hesitates, then speaks gently. “My lady… are you unwell?”
I glance at her.
She looks genuinely worried now.
I open my mouth to say I’m fine.
The word doesn’t come out.
Instead, I force a crooked smile.
“I think I just need… a nap.”
I shut the book and stand up.
“Or ten. Or a mild existential crisis,” I mumble under my breath.
“What did you say, my lady?”
I poke my cheek with my tongue.
“Pack these books and come with me,” I say, motioning to the ones I haven’t touched yet. “And don’t call me ‘my lady’ again for the rest of the night. Just Celia.”
“As you wish, my lady.”
Oh f*****g hell.
A few minutes later, we are out of the library.
The illuminating stones still glow softly as we walk down the hallway, casting warm light across the stone walls and polished floors.
Everything looks calm and peaceful like nothing in my life has ever violently fallen apart.
Annabel walks a step behind me, carefully balancing the stack of books in her arms, humming under her breath like she’s escorting me on some cozy bedtime routine.
We turn into the corridor that leads to my chambers and I stop.
So abruptly that Annabel nearly bumps into my back.
She catches herself just in time and peeks around my shoulder.
Standing a few meters away from us, leaning casually against the wall beside my door—
Is him.
My stomach drops before my brain even finishes registering the image.
Golden hair.
Tall frame.
Relaxed posture.
That stupid calm confidence that used to make my heart do somersaults and my common sense take unpaid leave.
Kevin.
No.
Master Keiran.
“Yiii,” Annabel squeals beside me, almost bouncing on her toes. “It’s Master Keiran!” She whispers.
She immediately starts gushing.
Talking about how handsome he looks tonight. How graceful his posture always is. How kind he was during dinner. How blessed the household is to have such a noble guest.
I barely hear her.
My ears are ringing.
My chest feels tight in that familiar, horrible way but there's also anger.
Isn’t he supposed to be gone after dinner? I ask myself silently.
Of course he isn’t.
Why would the universe ever give me peace?
Annabel keeps talking.
“I truly don’t understand why you no longer seem interested in him, my la— I mean, Celia,” she corrects quickly. “You both look so perfect together. Like something out of a romance scroll.”
Romance scroll.
My eye twitches.
“Shut up,” I whisper sharply, elbowing her lightly in the side.
She gasps, offended. “My lady—”
I glare at her.
“—Celia,” she amends sheepishly.
Good.
Because if she says my lady one more time tonight, I might commit a small crime.
Keiran lifts his head then, finally noticing us and our eyes meet.
My heart twists. Because, the fact still stands.
His older version had killed me before Lauren killed me and I don't care if this is not the real him. My emotions don't care too so why should I?
My fingers curl into fists at my sides before I can stop them.
But he smiles.
The same gentle, charming smile that he flashed me at the table.
“Lady Celia,” he says smoothly. “I was hoping to see you.”
Oh.
Fantastic.
- Writer
