The Rejected Luna Who Became His Obsession

Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9 — “HATRED AND HUNGER”

The first light of dawn barely pierced the thick canopy, leaving the forest in a haze of silver and shadow.

My body ached, my muscles screamed, and hunger gnawed at my stomach like sharp teeth.

Every step felt heavier than the last. Every breath burned in my chest.

And all the while, his face lingered in my mind—Kael.

I hated him. Hated him for everything.

For leaving me weak. For putting me in this forest alone. For every moment of fear, every predator that could have ended me, every second I had struggled just to survive.

He had made me vulnerable. He had made me dependent on my wits, my instincts, and that flicker of energy that now pulsed faintly in my hands.

And I would never forgive him.

I pressed myself low against the mossy roots of a giant tree, scanning the undergrowth. The forest was alive, dangerous, unpredictable. Every sound could mean a predator, every shadow a threat.

But now, every movement, every rustle, every snap of a twig reminded me of him.

He would pay—one day. I didn’t know how yet, but I would make sure of it.

The golden pulse stirred at my fingertips, responding to my focus.

Weak, hesitant, but alive. I tested it, making a fallen branch quiver. A leaf floated down gently. Not much, but enough.

This energy would be my weapon. My edge. My survival—and someday, my revenge.

I moved carefully through the forest, crouching behind roots and fallen trunks. Hunger twisted in my stomach, but I ignored it, focusing instead on the paths, the patterns, the signs of danger.

A fox darted across my path. I froze, watching its delicate movements, noting its rhythm. Every creature, every sound, every shadow was a lesson.

The forest was teaching me. And I would learn it all, faster than anyone expected—faster than him.

Hours passed, and the sun rose higher, filtering through the dense leaves in fractured golden beams.

I found a shallow stream, its water cold and sweet. I knelt, cupping it to my lips.

As I drank, the image of him flashed in my mind—those silver eyes, indifferent, commanding, careless.

My fists clenched. I would survive. I would grow strong.

And when I was ready… he would see the fire in me. He would pay.

I tested my pulse again, concentrating on a small rock. It trembled slightly, then rolled a few inches. Weak, yes, but responsive.

I experimented with a fallen branch, a cluster of leaves, even the loose soil beneath my feet.

Every small success, every faint shimmer, made my hatred burn brighter.

It was fueling me now—fear had made me cautious, but hatred made me clever, determined, dangerous.

Night fell, and the forest changed. Shadows lengthened, predators prowled, and hunger became a gnawing ache in my stomach.

I found a small hollow beneath a fallen log, cramped and cold. I pressed myself inside, shivering, exhausted.

But I kept my mind active, tracing paths, testing the golden pulse, imagining the traps I would set.

He had made me weak, yes—but he had also made me clever.

And cleverness would be my weapon long before strength.

The wind whispered through the trees, carrying the scent of predators, the chill of danger, and the subtle pulse of life all around me.

I traced patterns in the dirt with my fingers, planning, imagining, experimenting.

Every trap, every distraction, every tiny manipulation of the forest was a step closer to survival—and a step closer to the day I would confront him.

Weak, trembling, and exhausted, I closed my eyes, listening to the forest.

It was alive. It was merciless. It was teaching me everything I needed to know.

And I would use it.

Kael had made me vulnerable.

Kael had left me alone.

Kael would regret it.

I pressed my hands together, feeling the faint pulse of golden energy.

It was weak—but it was mine.

And it would grow.

Just like my hatred.

And one day, when he least expected it… I would rise.