THE PROMISED LUNA

THE FACTION

After James exiled his beloved Betty, his life fell into a dark spiral of despair. He confined himself indoors, refusing visitors and sinking deeper into self-recrimination. Days passed with him feeling weak and broken, constantly blaming himself for the heart-wrenching decision. He wished there had been another way, some path that didn't involve sacrificing the love of his life for the throne of Crando.

But he had made a promise to his father—a solemn vow to rule Crando and prioritize the kingdom's welfare over his personal desires. The health of the throne was deemed more critical than his own happiness. "How could I have made such a vow to my father?" he lamented, regretting the promise that now felt like a shackle.

James was the sole surviving heir; all his sisters and his mother had perished from mysterious poisonings, leaving him the last beacon of hope for his father. His grandparents, too, had been lost before he could know them, though he held fond memories of them through the ancestral rituals that connected him to his lineage.

Lying in bed, James's thoughts drifted to Betty and the moments they had shared. He wondered what she was enduring now, his mind filled with guilt and longing. His ruminations were interrupted by a persistent knock at the door. Though he had ignored every other knock for days and ordered his advisors to leave him alone, this knock refused to cease.

With a heavy heart and sluggish movements, James rose from his bed. His body was filthy, covered in dirt and the remnants of spilled wine, and his breath reeked. He opened the door to see Manuel standing there. "I said I don't want any disturbance," he began, but his words faltered when he saw who it was.

"What do you want, Manuel?" he asked, his voice weary.

"Your Highness, may I come in?" Manuel requested.

James, though reluctant, gestured for Manuel to enter and shut the door behind him. The room was in disarray, filled with the stench of stale beer and unwashed clothes and dishes. Manuel looked around, his expression one of concern and disapproval.

"I can't believe you're this depressed over the judgment you passed," Manuel said, his tone a mix of sympathy and frustration.

"I sent a young woman to her death. I have every right to feel guilty," James replied, throwing himself back onto his bed and burying his face in the pillows.

"The people need their king," Manuel insisted.

"I've given you the authority to make decisions in my absence," James mumbled into his pillow.

"Yes, but the people want to see their new king. You've just been crowned, yet you've been absent from all the meetings and events at the castle," Manuel pressed.

"I just can't, Manuel. I feel so guilty, and I don't even know where to begin. I don't have a mate—how can I stand before the people as a king who might be the last of his line?" James despaired.

"Well, that can be arranged," Manuel suggested.

"What do you mean?" James asked, lifting his head from the pillow and focusing on Manuel for the first time.

"I have a grand-niece in the Omega faction," Manuel began.

"And?" James prodded.

"I can offer her to you, as a token to help you recover. She is kind and homely," Manuel said.

"So, you want me to marry your niece?" James inquired, incredulous.

"Not exactly, but if you wished it, it wouldn't be a bad match," Manuel clarified.

"How would the council view this?" James questioned.

"I will handle the council myself. Leave it to me," Manuel assured.

"I don't like this plan, but what choice do I have? The people need a queen; I should give them one," James said, his reluctance clear.

"Yes, my king, the people need a queen. We should give them one. Then we can figure out later how to find a new heir," Manuel said.

James, feeling cornered and bereft of options, agreed to the plan. In that moment, Manuel knew his strategy was set in motion. Just as James's father, the former king, had trusted him implicitly, now his son did the same. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree," Manuel thought as James drifted back to sleep.

"I'll see myself out, Your Highness," Manuel said as he left the room, closing the door behind him with a sense of triumph and purpose.

OUTSIDE OF CRANDO

Betty had been trudging through the wilderness for days. Banished and deserted by everyone she knew, even her own family, she was left with nothing but the clothes on her back and the need to survive. Her journey was aimless, her footsteps driven by a desperate need to escape the rejection and isolation that had befallen her.

As she continued her solitary trek, her path inadvertently led her into a valley. The descent was sudden; she lost her footing and tumbled uncontrollably down the slope.

The speed of her fall increased as she descended, her body bouncing and rolling over the uneven terrain until she finally reached the valley floor.

The valley was covered in a thick forest, the trees towering above and shrouded in a dense, eerie fog. The sight was both terrifying and captivating. In all her years in Crando, Betty had never encountered a landscape so simultaneously beautiful and menacing. She struggled to her feet, her body aching from the fall, and reached out to touch the fog.

To her astonishment, the mist seemed to recoil at her touch, as if it were a living entity. The force of its repulsion sent her hurtling backward, crashing into a tree. The impact broke several branches, and she collapsed to the ground, dazed and disoriented.

As she lay there, she heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps drawing nearer. Panic surged through her. She forced herself to stand, her legs trembling, and began to run. The footsteps behind her quickened, growing louder and more insistent. She could hear the guttural growls and howls of werewolves, a sound that chilled her to the bone. Desperation welled up within her as she tried to transform into a small werewolf, a skill she had honed over the years. But her body betrayed her; she could only manage to flicker her eyes blue before they returned to their normal color.

In her frantic escape, she was so distracted that she didn't notice the tree in her path. She collided with it head-on and fell to the ground, unconscious.

When she regained consciousness, it was the heat that roused her. Her vision was blurred, but she could make out werewolves moving about, gathering branches, and setting up fires for the night.

As her senses returned, she realized she was in a tent. The interior was filled with various artifacts, suggesting she was in the tent of a healer. She attempted to leave, but before she could, she encountered someone she never expected to see.

"Betty?" a familiar voice called out.

"Lucas?" she responded, her voice filled with astonishment.

They rushed toward each other, embracing tightly.

"What are you doing here?" Lucas asked, pulling back to look at her.

"I should ask you the same thing. Aren't you supposed to be with Beta Faction?" Betty replied.

"Yeah, but aren't you supposed to be exiled?" Lucas joked, though his words struck a painful chord in Betty.

The reminder of her exile caused her face to contort with pain, and she felt the weight of her situation pressing down on her. Lucas quickly noticed and apologized.

"I heard what happened," he said softly.

"How did you know?" she asked.

"News travels fast. You're lucky these people don't know who the rejected mate is. Otherwise, they might have already harmed you," Lucas explained.

"You're not safe here. If they find out who you are..." he trailed off, the concern evident in his voice.

Lucas and Betty shared a complicated history. Lucas had always harbored deep feelings for Betty, but she had always seen him as just a childhood friend. When it was announced that Betty would be the next Luna queen, Lucas had been devastated and left their faction.

"I know. They caught me," Betty admitted.

"Caught you?" Lucas repeated, incredulous.

"Yes, I was running and hit my head. When I woke up, I was in that tent," she said, pointing.

"That tent?" Lucas asked, alarmed.

"Yes, that one."

"Oh no, that tent belongs to the witch," Lucas said, his voice tinged with fear.

"Witch?" Betty echoed, her eyes widening.

"Yes, and if you woke up in her tent, it means she has plans for you," Lucas said, stepping back as fear gripped him.

"You need to go back there now," he urged.

Just then, a noise swept through the camp, signaling the arrival of the witch. Everyone around bowed in deference. Lucas gestured frantically for Betty to return to the tent, and she complied, slipping back inside just as the witch arrived.

The witch entered the tent, her eyes immediately finding Betty, who was holding a knife defensively.

"Oh please, you're pregnant. You should find something to eat before you think about attacking me," the witch said with a dismissive wave of her hand, a knowing smile playing on her lips.