Chapter 2: Tearing Off the Mask! The White Lotus’s Script
1887 Words
The door swung open. A heady cloud of rose perfume flooded through the gap at once, drowning out the faint, warm scent of burning firewood that had filled the room.
Lila stood in the doorway, dressed in a brand-new moon-white silk gown, a delicate tray balanced in her hands. On it sat two slices of golden-baked rye bread and a steaming mug of milk. Her face was split into a flawless, sweet smile, her amber eyes brimming with sisterly concern.
“Sister, I was worried you’d wake up late and go hungry, so I went to the kitchens to get you breakfast.” Lila stepped into the room, setting the tray down naturally on the wooden table, one of its corners chipped and worn.
Eira leaned against the doorframe, not moving, not speaking.
She stared at Lila, her gaze drifting from that guileless face down to her hand, hanging stiffly at her side. Her fingers were white-knuckled around the hem of her skirt, crumpling the smooth silk into deep, unforgiving creases.
It was a habit Lila had carried since childhood—whenever she was hatching a scheme, or terrified her lies would unravel, she’d unconsciously clutch at her skirt.
A cold laugh curled in Eira’s chest. How blind had she been in her past life? Fooled by this pathetic act for over a decade. This woman couldn’t even con her way into a circus sideshow with this level of performance.
“Why are you staring at me like that, sister?” Lila squirmed under the icy weight of Eira’s gaze, releasing her death grip on her skirt to tuck a lock of golden curls behind her ear, her movements stiff and unnatural. “Hurry and eat, it’ll go cold soon.”
“You didn’t come all this way just to bring me a few slices of bread, did you?” Eira stepped over to the table, not sparing the tray a glance. She pulled out a chair and sat down, her hands folded neatly on the tabletop, her posture relaxed, like a spectator watching a play unfold.
Lila froze. Something was off about Eira today. The meek, broken sister who’d never dared meet her eyes, who’d stammered through every sentence, was now radiating a suffocating, oppressive aura that made her skin crawl.
But she schooled her features back into that sweet smile in an instant.
She pulled a neatly folded sheet of parchment from her sleeve and slid it carefully across the table to Eira.
“Sister, tomorrow is your coming-of-age ceremony. I know how much you’ve always admired Lord Kaelen, the Black Rock Wolf King.” Her voice dropped to a soft, earnest tone. “I stayed up all night writing this confession for you. Tomorrow, in front of all four clans, if you read these words aloud, Lord Kaelen is sure to be moved. He’s the strongest Alpha alive—only a bold, brave confession like this could ever win his heart.”
Eira’s gaze fell to the parchment, and the memories of her past life crashed over her. She’d believed every word of this nonsense, stood in the middle of the square with this paper in hand, sobbing out lines about how she’d give everything for him, how she’d follow him even if he never wanted her. All she’d gotten in return was Kaelen’s ice-cold “You are not worthy”, and years of mockery from every corner of the continent.
“Moved?” Eira lifted her head, her finger tapping twice lightly on the parchment.
“Yes!” Lila’s face lit up, thinking Eira was tempted. She leaned forward eagerly, “Think about it, sister—Lord Kaelen is the strongest Alpha there is. He’s spent his whole life surrounded by prim, proper noble ladies. A confession this honest, this passionate, is guaranteed to make him see you!”
Eira said nothing. Her gaze drifted over Lila’s shoulder, locking onto the flash of pink peeking out from the right cuff of her gown.
She remembered it all too well. In her past life, Lila hadn’t just prepared this ridiculous confession for her—she’d also written a sickeningly sappy love letter of her own, planning to slip it to Kaelen after the ceremony.
What did she stand to gain? How would she weasel her way out if it all went wrong? Lila’s scheming was loud and clear. She didn’t just want to humiliate Eira in front of the entire continent—she wanted to climb over her broken body to the top.
Eira stood up abruptly.
Her movement was too fast for Lila to react. Before she could blink, Eira’s hand had darted straight for her right cuff, two fingers slipping inside to pluck out the deeply hidden pink letter.
“What do you think you’re doing?!” Lila shrieked, lunging forward to snatch it back.
Eira struck out with her other hand, slapping Lila’s wrist away hard. The force sent Lila stumbling backward, her lower back slamming into the edge of the table, a sharp gasp tearing from her lips.
“Easy there, little sister.” Eira twirled the pink letter between her fingers, the wax seal stamped with a tiny heart glinting in the morning light.
She tore open the seal right in front of Lila, pulling out the scented paper, reeking of the same cloying rose perfume.
“To my most revered Lord Kaelen, Black Rock Wolf King…” Eira read aloud in a dramatic, lilting tone, “From the moment I first laid eyes on you, my heart was a leaf tossed about in a storm. I know my sister is not worthy of you. She cannot even awaken her wolf core—she is nothing but a waste. But I am different. I offer you my pure, untainted soul…”
“Shut up! Shut your mouth!”
Lila’s perfect mask shattered in an instant. Her face drained of all color, deathly white, her eyes blown wide with shock and rage. She clutched at her skirt so hard her knuckles split, staring at the usually meek Eira like she’d seen a ghost.
How could she have known?! She’d written this letter only last night—she hadn’t even told her mother, Vera!
Eira stopped reading, crumpling the pink letter into a ball, and threw it with pinpoint accuracy right at Lila’s face.
The paper ball hit her cheek and clattered to the floor with a soft sound.
“Something this heartfelt? Why don’t you read it aloud in the square tomorrow yourself?” Eira braced her hands on the table, leaning forward, her ice-blue eyes devoid of any warmth. “Take your little fake script and get out of my room. Try to scheme against me again, and I promise you, next time, it won’t just be an envelope I tear open.”
Lila’s chest heaved with ragged, furious breaths. She opened her mouth to spit out a threat, but the second her eyes met Eira’s, a cold shiver raced down her spine.
She didn’t even dare pick up the crumpled letter from the floor, turned on her heel, and fled the room in disgrace.
Watching Lila’s disgraced, Eira grabbed a tattered cloak from the bedpost and wrapped it around herself, pushing the door open and stepping outside.
She had no time to waste. Tomorrow was the coming-of-age ceremony, and she needed to find her only ace in the hole before then.
The streets of Silver Moon City were paved with white marble, the morning mist still clinging to the stone. Eira avoided the patrolling Silver Moon guards, weaving her way through a handful of back alleys until she reached the outpost of the Windchaser Caravan in the south of the city.
From the training yard in the back of the outpost came the whistle of a blade cutting through the air.
Serena stood in the center of the yard, dressed in a lightweight pale green leather armor, her chestnut bobbed hair flying with every movement. Three throwing knives were locked in her hand; with a flick of her wrist, three solid thunks rang out, each blade burying itself dead center in the wooden target fifty meters away.
“Who’s there?!” Serena spun around sharply, her forest-green eyes locking onto the corner of the courtyard wall.
“Your awareness is still as terrible as ever, Serena.” Eira stepped out from the shadows.
Serena froze. She strode forward quickly, her eyes raking up and down Eira’s body. “Aren’t you usually stuck scrubbing laundry for your stepmother at this hour? What are you doing here? And…” She leaned in, sniffing slightly, “you reek of bloodlust.”
Eira cut straight to the chase, no time for pleasantries. “Lila is planning to ruin me at tomorrow’s coming-of-age ceremony. She wrote me that confession speech, wants me to stand up in front of the entire continent and declare my love for Kaelen, just so I can be laughed out of the square.”
“That two-faced white lotus is at it again?!” Serena’s temper flared instantly. She slammed her palm down on the weapon rack beside her, sending the swords atop it rattling and humming. “I’m gonna go skin her alive right now!”
“Don’t.” Eira grabbed Serena’s arm, her voice steady and unshakable. “I’ll handle it myself tomorrow at the ceremony. I came to you because I need an out. If I burn it all down tomorrow, the Silver Moon Clan Chief will definitely come for me. I need a Windchaser Caravan pass, and one of your fast horses.”
Serena stared at Eira for a full ten seconds.
The Eira she’d always known had been a doormat, who’d taken every blow without a word. But the woman standing in front of her now had eyes cold as steel, every word laced with the resolve of someone with nothing left to lose.
“Got it.” Serena didn’t ask a single more question. She unclipped a cyan jade token carved with wind runes from her belt and slapped it into Eira’s palm. “The pass is yours. The horse will be saddled and waiting at the back gate, day and night. Tomorrow, no matter what hell you raise, I’ve got your back.”
Eira closed her fingers around the jade token, still warm from Serena’s skin. In her past life, Serena had tried to help her, only to have her leg hacked off by Lila, left to freeze to death in the Icebound Forest alongside her.
This time, she would never let that tragedy happen again.
“Thanks.” Eira turned and walked toward the gate.
But the second she stepped over the threshold of the training yard, a searing, violent thrum erupted from the wolf core in her chest.
It felt like a seed frozen solid for over a decade had finally caught the first breath of spring rain. A wave of impossibly pure, gentle, yet overwhelming power flooded through her veins, racing to every corner of her body.
Eira’s steps slammed to a halt, her hand clamping hard over her chest.
The Moon Blood her mother had sealed away with her own hands over a decade ago, had finally cracked open, the first glimmer of awakening stirring within it.
- Writer
