Marked By The Moon That Hates Me

CHAPTER ONE The Moon Goddess tried to kill me before I took my first breath. She didn’t strike with lightning or fire. She didn’t poison my blood or still my heart in the womb. That would have been too merciful. Instead, she erased me. I was born beneath a full moon—silver, perfect, watching every other child claim their fate—and yet when I entered the world, the moon did not answer. No heat burned beneath my skin. No mark bloomed to bind my soul to another. The magic that should have claimed me simply… stopped. The room went quiet. Too quiet for a birth. The midwife’s hands trembled as she lifted me, blood-slick and silent, into the air. “This isn’t possible,” she whispered. My mother reached for me, wild-eyed with pain and fear. “Give her to me.” The midwife hesitated. That hesitation was the first sign that something had gone terribly wrong. “She should be marked,” the woman said, pressing glowing fingers to my chest. Magic sparked—then fizzled out like a dying flame. Nothing happened. The mark did not appear. My father took a step forward. “Check again.” “I am,” the midwife said, her voice breaking. “The Moon Goddess—” The words caught in her throat. Outside, a wolf howled. Then another. Then the entire pack answered, their voices rising in confusion, fear, and something darker—recognition. The bond they shared trembled, rippling outward like a crack in ice. The eldest priestess rushed in, silver robes whispering over the floor. She did not touch me at first. She stared. Long. Hard. As if I were something unnatural that might bite. Then she reached out. Her magic washed over me. And recoiled. The priestess staggered back, face drained of color. “She has no claim.” My mother screamed. “No,” she sobbed, clutching me to her chest. “She’s just a baby. She hasn’t done anything wrong.” The priestess shook her head slowly. “That is why this is unforgivable.” The words settled into the room like ash. The Moon Goddess had not made a mistake. She had made a choice. And I was the thing she had chosen to erase. The pack never let me forget what I was. They didn’t banish me. That would have required admitting I mattered. Instead, they tolerated me. I grew up in the spaces between—standing at the edge of gatherings, spoken about in lowered voices, watched with the careful distance reserved for unstable things. Mothers pulled their children closer when I passed. Elders studied me as if waiting for something terrible to finally reveal itself. My father loved me. I know that now. But love did not make him brave. He stopped correcting people when they spoke of me like a problem to be managed. Stopped insisting I attend ceremonies meant to celebrate destiny. When visitors came from other packs, he sent me away before they could ask questions. It was easier for everyone if I stayed invisible. By the time I was sixteen, I had learned the rules. Don’t stand beneath the moon too long. Don’t ask about mates. Don’t hope. Hope, in particular, was dangerous. The Moon Goddess had already proven she could take anything she noticed. ⸻ The night of the Moon Calling, the sky was wrong. I felt it long before the pack gathered beneath the standing stones. The air pressed heavy against my lungs, thick with unease. Wolves shifted restlessly, claws scraping stone, tempers short and sharp. The moon rose slow and swollen, stained red as fresh blood. A murmur rippled through the clearing. “Bad sign.” “The Goddess is angry.” I stayed at the edge of the crowd, arms wrapped tightly around myself. My skin prickled—not with blessing, but with warning. The priestesses moved into position, white robes whispering over the ground. Silver bowls were placed upon the altar, filled with offerings. The High Priestess stepped forward, lifting her arms as the chanting began. The sound curled into my bones. Magic thickened, humming low and insistent. Wolves bowed their heads. Some dropped to their knees. I should have left. I didn’t. The High Priestess inhaled sharply. Moonlight slammed into her body, arching her back as her eyes rolled white. When she spoke, it was not her voice that filled the clearing. It was silk over steel. “Children of the moon,” the Goddess said. “You gather beneath my gaze, faithful as ever.” Relief washed through the pack like a held breath finally released. Then her tone shifted. “There is something among you that does not belong.” My heart stuttered. The priestess’s head turned slowly—inevitably—until her borrowed gaze locked onto me. Every eye followed. The crowd parted without a word. I stood frozen, blood roaring in my ears. “You,” Selunara said. The sound of my name in her voice felt like a blade pressed to my throat. “Step forward.” Hands closed around my arms. Not cruel. Not gentle. Simply obedient to divine will. I was pulled into the center of the clearing, bare feet scraping stone, pulse hammering so hard I thought it might break me open. The Goddess looked at me through the priestess’s eyes. And smiled. “You were never meant to draw breath beneath my sky,” she said softly. “Yet here you stand.” My mouth was dry. “What did I do?” Laughter rippled through the air—beautiful and cold. “You exist.” Pain exploded in my chest. I gasped, dropping to my knees as invisible pressure crushed inward, like claws closing around my heart. The moon flared brighter, crimson light searing my skin. “You were stripped of fate for a reason,” Selunara continued. “You are a flaw. A lingering echo of defiance.” Defiance? The ground trembled. A force slammed into the clearing, so powerful it knocked the breath from my lungs. Wolves cried out, dropping instinctively to their knees as a presence rolled over us—dark, dominant, absolute. Footsteps approached. Slow. Controlled. I lifted my head. He emerged from the shadows like something carved from night itself—tall, broad, dressed in black that seemed to drink in the moonlight. His gaze swept the clearing once before snapping to me. And the world fractured. Agony ripped through my chest again—sharper, deeper—followed by a second pulse of pain that wasn’t mine. The man staggered. A sound tore from his throat, raw and animal, as he clawed at his shirt, ripping it open. The crowd gasped. Etched into his skin—burned deep and unmistakable—was a mate mark. My mate mark. The one I had never been given. The bond snapped into place like a blade sliding home. Alpha Kael Nightfang dropped to one knee, breath coming hard, eyes locked on mine with a mixture of fury, shock, and something far more dangerous. Recognition. The Goddess screamed. “No.” The sound cracked the sky. Kael’s voice was a low snarl. “What have you done?” Selunara’s borrowed face twisted with rage. “Corrected a mistake.” Her gaze returned to me, sharp and vicious. “He is mine. He was chosen. You will not have him.” Something inside me shifted. The pain didn’t vanish—but it hardened, forged into something new. Anger. For the first time in my life, the Moon Goddess was looking at me not with indifference—but fear. I rose to my feet. Then I smiled. “Then why,” I asked quietly, “does he wear what you stole from me?” The moon flickered. Just once. But it was enough.