The Rise of The Slave Luna

Chapter 2

Vaelora’s POV

No one in Varkhane knows that my wolf has awakened. Not even Oryndel. Everyone still believes I am nothing more than a wolfless, worthless girl who deserves every bit of cruelty they throw at her.

And now, I am fated to one of the Lycan Princes.

I do not understand why I am running or why fear has taken hold of my heart. Shouldn't I be happy? For the first time in my life, I have a chance to escape this miserable existence. I could leave this house behind, never endure Morvella's cruelty again, and perhaps, if fate is kind enough, become Luna.

Beneath my skin, my wolf stirs restlessly, as though she can hear my thoughts. I have never shifted before because I have never been given the freedom to leave the house long enough to discover what it feels like.

Now, far away from home, all I want is to feel her paws against the earth.

I want to know what it feels like to run without chains around my heart.

So, I let her out.

The shift is agonizing. My bones crack and rearrange themselves as my body changes, and the wounds across my back burn with such intensity that I nearly collapse. For a moment, I struggle to endure the pain, but as soon as my paws touch the frozen ground, I forget about my wounds.

My wolf takes off running, her paws pounding against the earth as though she has been waiting for this moment her entire life. The cold air rushes through her fur, and the wind brushes against her face. There is no one to command her to stop, no one to strike her for going too far, and no one to remind her that she is worthless.

For the first time, I understand what freedom feels like.

It feels like flying.

She runs until her legs grow tired, then slows to a halt beneath the open sky. Raising her head, she fixes her gaze on the moon and releases a long, soulful howl that echoes through the darkness.

I feel something stir deep inside me as she howls, an emotion so powerful that I cannot tell whether it belongs to her or to me. Perhaps we have both been waiting for this moment, trapped in different ways, longing for the chance to be free.

When I finally shift back into my human form, the cold bites into my skin, and the pain from my wounds returns. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to keep warm as I look towards the distant lights of the pack.

Reality comes rushing back.

What is happening at home right now? How will Morvella react when she discovers that I am mated to the Lycan Prince? What will Elarisse do when she learns that the future she has dreamed of may belong to me?

They wanted the Lycan Prince.

Now, I am the one mated to him.

A strange mixture of hope and dread settles in my chest. Perhaps this bond will change everything. Perhaps, for once, someone will stand between me and the people who have made my life unbearable.

My mate will protect me, won't he?

The thought carries me back towards home, even though every step fills me with a growing sense of unease.

By the time I return, the festival is over, and the packhouse has fallen quiet. I assume everyone has retired for the night, and I slip inside as silently as I can, praying that I will make it to my room without being noticed.

But the moment my feet touch the cold marble floor, I see Morvella standing beside the kitchen door.

Her eyes burn with a fury that makes my stomach twist.

“You witch!”

I freeze.

I have learned never to run when Morvella is angry. Running only makes her more vicious, and I have suffered enough beatings to know that resisting her will only leave me in greater pain.

She strides towards me and grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back so sharply that tears spring to my eyes.

“What did you do?” she demands, her fingers tightening around my hair. “Tell me what you have done!”

My knees buckle, and I fall before her, desperately trying to ease the strain on my scalp.

“Nothing, Stepmother,” I whisper. “I am sorry for running away. I didn't mean to upset you.”

She lets out a bitter laugh, as though my apology is the most ridiculous thing she has ever heard.

“No. You are sorry because you have stolen your sister's mate, you ungrateful little wretch!”

My heart stops.

For a moment, I cannot even understand what she has said. The words seem to hang in the air between us, so cruel and unexpected that my mind refuses to accept them.

Stolen her mate?

What is she talking about?

Before I can find my voice, Elarisse appears behind her mother, her face twisted with disbelief and disgust.

“She cannot be mated to the Lycan Prince, Mother,” she protests. “She doesn't even have a wolf. Everyone knows she is wolfless. How could the Moon Goddess choose someone like her over me?”

I lower my gaze, afraid that if I look at her, she will strike me.

Morvella yanks me to my feet by my hair, forcing a cry from my lips.

“Explain yourself!”

“I...” My throat tightens. “I didn't know, Stepmother. I swear I didn't know.”

“Liar!”

Her palm strikes my cheek. A sharp ringing fills my ears, and I stumble, struggling to remain upright.

I press a trembling hand against my face, but before I can recover, Morvella's expression changes. The fury in her eyes remains, yet something else creeps into her smile, something that makes the cold in my stomach spread through my entire body.

“I know what you have done,” she says slowly. “You have been visiting that witch, haven't you?”

I shake my head desperately. “No, Stepmother. I haven't gone anywhere.”

“You expect me to believe that?” She seizes the front of my gown, twisting the fabric in her fist until the seams begin to strain. “You knew my daughter's destiny. You knew what she was meant to become, and you deliberately took it from her.”

“I didn't steal anything,” I whisper, my voice breaking beneath the weight of her accusation. “I didn't even know who he was until tonight.”

But Morvella has never cared about my explanations. She has never listened when I pleaded for mercy, and she has never believed me when I tried to defend myself. Why would tonight be any different?

Her fingers tighten around my gown, tearing the fabric slightly.

“This ends tonight.”

There is something final in her voice, and for the first time, I feel a fear that has nothing to do with the beating I know is coming. Whatever Morvella has planned, she has no intention of allowing me to escape it.

I say nothing more. There is no point in wasting my breath on words she has already decided to reject.

Instead, I pray silently that my mate will find me. That he will somehow know I am in danger. That he will come for me before Morvella has the chance to do whatever she intends.

Without another word, Morvella drags me outside and shoves me into the family carriage. I have never been allowed inside it before, and as I settle onto the seat, confusion and dread twist together in my chest.

Where is she taking me?

Elarisse climbs in after her mother, refusing to look in my direction. Her silence is almost as frightening as Morvella's anger, because it tells me that whatever is about to happen has already been decided between them.

The carriage begins to move.

I sit with my hands clasped tightly in my lap, listening to the wheels rumble over the frozen road. Neither of them speaks, and the silence grows heavier with every passing moment.

At first, I try to convince myself that we are heading somewhere within Varkhane. Perhaps Morvella intends to take me to the packhouse for questioning, or perhaps she wants to make an example of me before the others.

But as the journey stretches on, the familiar surroundings disappear. The houses become fewer, the roads grow rougher, and the darkness outside the carriage windows deepens.

We are leaving the pack.

My fingers curl into the fabric of my gown.

Why would she take me beyond our territory in the middle of the night? What could possibly be so urgent that she cannot wait until morning?

The carriage finally comes to a halt.

“Get down,” Morvella orders.

I barely have time to move before she shoves me out. I hit the frozen ground hard. Pain shoots through my knees, but I force myself to stand before she can find another reason to punish me.

Morvella and Elarisse walk ahead without sparing me a glance.

I follow them quietly, my arms wrapped around myself as I struggle against the bitter cold. My wounds ache beneath my clothes, and every step reminds me of how far I am from the only home I have ever known, cruel as it may be.

My thoughts return to the prince.

My mate.

He will come for me, won't he?

The bond is supposed to mean something. Surely the Moon Goddess would not bind me to someone who would abandon me when I needed him most. Surely he will sense that something is wrong and come looking for me.

But another thought creeps into my mind.

What if he rejects me?

The thought makes my chest ache, and I struggle to swallow the lump in my throat.

We walk a little farther, and then I recognize the place before us.

My steps falter.

No.

It cannot be.

I know this house. Everyone in Varkhane knows it, though few dare to speak of it openly. It stands apart from the other homes, shrouded in an unsettling stillness, with strange symbols carved into its wooden door.

This is the house of Gaga, the witch.

A wave of nausea rolls through me.

Why has Morvella brought me here? What does she want from a witch, and why does she need me to be here with her?

I glance at Elarisse, hoping to find some hint of what they intend to do, but she keeps her gaze fixed ahead. Her lips are pressed into a thin line, and there is something almost eager in the way she follows her mother inside.

My fear grows with every step.

When we enter, the air is thick with the scent of herbs and smoke. An old woman sits near the hearth, her eyes lifting towards us as though she has been expecting our arrival.

Gaga.

I have never wanted to meet her.

Now, standing before her with my stepmother beside me, I wish more than anything that I had never been born into a family that could bring me to this place.

Morvella steps forward, her anger replaced by a cold determination that frightens me far more than her shouting ever could.

“I need you to transfer her mate bond to my daughter.”