Rebirth Of A Hidden Luna

9: SECTION D.

SECTION D. .

Elara’s POV

The academy never slept.

Even at night, shadows moved through the halls. Whispers slithered between the cracks of the stone walls. It was alive...breathing, watching. Hunting.

And I was its newest prey.

I had just returned to the dorm after cleaning the blood-soaked training mats as punishment. My palms were raw, knees bruised, arms numb. I thought maybe, just maybe, the nightmare had taken a break.

Until I opened the door.

A hood was yanked over my head.

Rough hands gripped my arms.

Before I could scream, a growl silenced me.

“Shut up and walk.”

Holy shit... I've been kidn*pped!

Would I be killed if I shout?!

My breath hitched as I was shoved through winding hallways, the hood cutting off all light. My feet stumbled against uneven steps, and the only sounds around me were the sharp exhales of whoever was dragging me... and the heavy beat of my own heart.

Goddess, this was it.

Had I been found out?

Was this it...the moment my identity was exposed?

I tried to calm my breathing. “This is a mistake,” I whispered beneath the hood. “I’m new... I didn’t do anything wrong.”

No answer.

Only the cruel pull of my arm as we moved deeper into what felt like the belly of the academy.

Eventually, we stopped and I was shoved forward.

The hood was ripped off my head, and I blinked rapidly, my sharp sight adjusting quickly to the dim candlelight.

A circular stone room. Shadows danced along the walls. The air was thick, warm with tension and something else...fear.

Fuck. I could smell fear and it made me want to puke.

My gaze swept the space suspiciously and I saw some young men, some faces were familiar...

Ian.

He was here.

My chest eased for a second... until I really saw him.

He stood off to the side, stiff as a board, his face pale. His eyes were red-rimmed and wet like he’d been holding back tears for hours.

Then I noticed the boy next to him. Shorter. Skinny. Sobbing uncontrollably into his own sleeve. His entire body shook like he was about to collapse.

Okay… What the hell is going on?

Why did this feel like the opening scene of a cult horror flick?

Another boy stood near the center of the room, blindfolded, trembling. One sleeve had been torn off. His lip was split.

And around us? Figures in hoods, faces hidden, voices silent.

This was not a welcome party.

I rubbed my wrists and took a cautious step toward Ian.

“Ian?” I whispered.

His head jerked toward me like I’d slapped him.

“Stay away from me!” he snapped, stepping back like I was contagious. His eyes flashed, not with fear... but fury.

I stopped cold, stunned. “What...?”

“If you come any closer, I swear I’ll kill you,” he growled.

Kill me?

I blinked at him, confused, heart hammering.

I moved to touch him but he shoved me backward. Not hard, but enough to make it clear...he wasn’t playing. “Don’t come near me again,” he hissed, eyes wild. “Touch me, and I’ll kill you myself.”

What?

I stared at him like he’d just grown two heads. The Ian I knew, the slightly awkward, overly chatty Ian, looked at me like I was diseased. Like I’d betrayed him. Like... I was the reason he was trapped here.

I took a slow step back, pulse racing. “Ian, what...”

He looked away, jaw clenched tight, shoulders shaking.

I didn’t understand.

Why was he acting like this?

Why the sudden change?

Why was the ever-jovial Ian now looking at me like I’d ruined his life?

And more importantly...

Where the hell was I?

"I want to go home, I don't want to be in section D, PLEASE LET ME GO, I DON'T WANT TO DIE HERE!" Ian shouted and realization dawned on me immediately.

All this s**t was all about section D but what was Ian doing here, I thought he was in section A.

I hadn’t even fully digested Ian’s breakdown before another boy dropped to his knees near the wall and started sobbing hysterically. Loud, snotty, shoulder-shaking sobs that echoed through the room and made my chest twist.

Then another one started.

Then another.

In seconds, nearly half the boys around me were either crying, praying, or whispering their last words to the moon goddess.

It felt like I’d been dumped into the middle of a damn mass funeral.

Only no one had died...yet.

I turned, confusion and fear thick in my chest. “Ian, what the hell is going on? Why are you even here? You were in Section A!”

He didn’t look at me. He shook his head, eyes locked on the floor.

So I stepped closer.

He saw me move and his body tensed. He raised his hands like I was a bomb about to explode.

“I said stay away!”

I stopped, hands half raised. “Just tell me what’s going on!”

He looked at me then, finally. And it wasn’t just fear in his eyes anymore.

It was betrayal.

“I’m here because of you,” he spat. “Because of you, El—Eli. Your little friendship. Your stupid small talk.”

My breath caught. “What...?”

He sneered, lips curling bitterly. “Kian saw me. Saw me talking to you, laughing with you. That’s all it took. A conversation. And now...” he gestured around the room, his voice cracking, “now I’m here. In Section D. I’ve been reassigned. You know what that means?”

I didn’t answer.

Because I was too busy realizing something horrifying.

Kian Blackthorne... had done this.

To Ian.

Because of me but why?!

“I didn’t ask for any of this,” I whispered.

Ian laughed, short, bitter. “Yeah? Well now we’re both dead.”

I opened my mouth, heart pounding, but before I could speak...

BOOM.

The lights exploded on above us, flooding the room in harsh, blinding light.

The boys flinched. Some covered their faces.

Footsteps echoed behind me. Loud. Deliberate. Coming closer.

A voice, deep, commanding, sharp enough to slit throats sliced through the tension.

“LINE UP!”

No one hesitated.

Bodies moved on instinct, like soldiers in a war camp.

We formed two rows, backs straight, breaths held.

The temperature in the room dropped. The air grew tight.

Then I saw them.

Five figures entered.

Men.

Built like gods.

Dressed in all black, expressions carved from stone. Each one radiated authority and violence like they were born with it in their blood.

And at the center...

Kian.

My stomach dropped.

He walked in with the others, calm and composed. But his eyes scanned the line slowly, methodically, until they landed on me.

Our eyes locked.

And the smirk that spread across his face...

That cruel, satisfied, bloodthirsty smirk...

Nearly knocked the strength out of my knees.

Myra whimpered in my mind. "You're his favorite chew toy now."

I couldn't breathe.

Not with the way he looked at me.

Like he’d finally gotten me exactly where he wanted.

And this time... there would be no running.

One of the men stepped forward.

He was tall, cruel-faced, a scar dragging across his cheek like someone had once tried and failed to kill him. His black combat shirt clung to muscle and menace. He didn’t speak right away. He just stood there, staring at us like we were nothing more than meat lined up for s*******r.

Then he chuckled.

Low. Rough. Mean.

“Look at you pathetic bastards,” he said, stepping forward and scanning the line. “Crying. Sniveling. Pissing yourselves before anything’s even started.”

He stopped in front of the boy who had been sobbing the loudest and leaned in close.

“You think this is bad?” His smile widened, feral. “Most of you won’t even survive the week. Hell, some of you won’t survive the night.”

The boy whimpered.

The man straightened and turned to all of us.

“Look around. Go ahead. Count your brothers.”

Some heads turned.

“Only twelve of you,” he went on, voice smooth and venomous. “You know why the other sections start with twenty, seventy? Because they’re normal. Because they train. Learn. Grow.”

He laughed again. “But not here. Section D ain’t about learning. Section D is about bleeding. About suffering. We train the ones no one else wants. We break the ones that can’t be broken. We kill the ones too weak to live.”

I swallowed, hard.

“You twelve are standing here because someone saw potential in your destruction. That means you either survive and become monsters...” he paused, eyes glinting under the fluorescent light, “or you die.”

He took a slow breath like he was bored now.

“Ugh. I don’t have time for this s**t,” he muttered. Then, with a snap of his fingers, he barked, “Bring it in.”

Two masked seniors emerged from the shadows, dragging a massive metal furnace between them. It blazed with open flame, the orange glow lighting the stone walls with a flickering hellish hue. Inside, metal rods heated, curved and cruel, glowing red at their tips.

Branding irons.

Marking rods.

A chill sliced down my spine.

The instructor turned to us and rolled his shoulders.

“Strip.”

I blinked.

What?

He folded his arms. “You heard me. All of you. Strip. It’s time for your marking.”

The room went still.

Then chaos.

Some boys gasped.

Some hesitated.

But all of them obeyed.

Clothes were peeled off quickly, some trembling hands fumbling with buttons, some tossing their shirts like they were on fire. Boots slammed the floor. Belts clattered. Fear clung to the air.

Every single boy in the room was now standing bare-skinned, shivering from cold or dread or both.

Except me.

I didn’t move.

Couldn’t move.

I was frozen in place.

My body locked up, terror slicing through me.

Strip?

Absolutely not.

If I took off this shirt... if I unbound my chest... if even one thing slipped...

It would be over.

My secret.

My life.

Everything.

But my hesitation didn’t go unnoticed.

The scarred man’s head turned, his gaze locking onto me like a predator who had found the weakest link.

“You deaf, runt?” he said, walking over. “Or do you think you’re special?”

My mouth opened.

Nothing came out.

I tried to speak, to say anything, but my throat was bone-dry. My mind was screaming, do something, say something, but I just...couldn’t.

His eyes narrowed. “I only give orders once, mutt. If I have to repeat myself, that mark goes everywhere. Face. Chest. Back. Neck.”

He took another step forward. “And I swear, I’ll personally carve your name into your ribcage with my blade. You think I’m bluffing?”

I shook my head slowly.

He smirked. “Then strip.”

Still... I didn’t move.

The man’s smile dropped.

Dead. Cold. Gone.

“I don’t have time for this,” he growled, turning to the two seniors who had brought the furnace in. “Strip him. Now.”

No. No. No. NO.

Panic detonated in my chest.

One of them started forward. Then the second. Both wore masks, but their bulky forms oozed with familiarity, strong, merciless, and well-trained. I could see the outline of muscles under their uniforms. There was no way I could fight them off.

They reached for me.

My arms slapped theirs away, but it was useless. They were stronger. Faster. Trained for this.

“No! Wait!” I blurted, voice shaking. “You can’t... I...”

The first senior grabbed my wrist and twisted.

Pain exploded up my arm.

I cried out, stumbling.

The second gripped the hem of my shirt.

And that’s when it hit me.

This was it.

This was how my secret came out. In a filthy room, surrounded by fire, tears, and boys too scared to look me in the eye. I would be exposed, ridiculed, punished...maybe even killed.

My breath came in short, sharp gasps.

“No, please...don’t...don’t touch me!” I thrashed wildly, heart slamming in my chest.

But they didn’t care.

The one with his hand on my shirt gave it a yank.

My skin screamed from the burn of the fabric pulling against the tightly wrapped binder beneath.

Myra’s voice exploded in my head.

“Do something! NOW!”