THE FORSAKEN LUNA

AN UNFORGETTABLE ENCOUNTER

CHAPTER FIVE

The hall was eerily silent, save for the sound of my own despair. Sir John did not bow before the Alpha when he left—he simply turned and gestured for me to follow. His fury was palpable.

By the time we reached the house, a mob had gathered outside, their voices unified in a chilling chant:

“We await nightfall! We await nightfall!”

Sir John’s expression darkened as he hurriedly handed me a blanket, some biscuits, and a matchbox. The final provisions of a girl sent to die.

As I stepped outside, the crowd roared.

“Attack!” someone shouted.

I braced myself—but the moment they saw Sir John, they hesitated. Even hatred had its limits before him.

Marcel was among them, his eyes clouded with something resembling guilt. He stepped forward and handed me a bag.

I didn’t care what was inside. I flung it back at him with all the strength I had left. The bag burst open—biscuits, bread, water, money, clothes.

An elder shook his head. “Such a generous Beta. Our pack will thrive under his rule.”

Some of the youth cheered him on. I felt sick.

We reached the boundary between the pack and the endless, ominous forest. A guard turned to Sir John. “You can’t go beyond this point, sir. It’s too dangerous.”

From behind, the crowd intensified their jeers. Rocks, dirt, and rotten food rained down upon me. A sharp stone struck my temple, and I staggered, my vision swimming.

Sir John’s eyes locked onto mine, glistening with unshed tears.

He raised a hand in farewell, then stood still, unwilling to watch me disappear.

Another stone struck my back, then another. I wanted to stay, to let them finish me. But pain overruled grief, and my instincts took over.

I turned and ran, disappearing into the suffocating darkness of the unending forest.

I wandered through the endless forest until exhaustion overtook me, leaving me with no strength to go any further. The towering trees loomed above, their shadows stretching long as nightfall crept in. I collapsed beneath the shelter of a massive oak, too drained to care, too broken to even eat. My only wish was to fade away.

Wild animals lurked in the darkness—silent predators with glowing eyes, slithering serpents weaving through the underbrush. I prayed for them to take me, to end this misery, but they only paused to stare before vanishing into the night. For days, sleep eluded me, hunger gnawed at my insides, and despair clung to me like a second skin. I lay there, waiting for death’s embrace.

Then, the sharp pang of hunger struck deep, twisting in my stomach like a cruel hand. My throat was parched, my body weak. Instinct finally overpowered my despair. I opened the bag Sir John had given me, and at the sight of the food inside, his face flashed in my mind. That fleeting moment of warmth kept me going a little longer.

But food runs out, and so did mine. My stomach screamed in protest, my throat an aching desert. I swore I wouldn’t give in to hunger again, but pain has a way of breaking promises.

Driven by desperation, I wandered further into the unknown, until I stumbled upon what seemed like a forgotten vineyard—an abandoned pineapple farm with towering oak trees.

My gaze locked onto a cluster of ripe pineapples, half-eaten by tiny rodents. Starving, I lunged at them, slicing away the untouched portions with the dagger Sir John had packed for me. I devoured the sweet fruit, the juices burning against my dry throat but bringing relief nonetheless.

Afterwards, I curled beneath an oak tree, cradling the last of my pineapples, and allowed sleep to claim me.

When I awoke, the sight before me sent a fresh wave of anger surging through my veins. The rodents had returned, this time with a partner, and together they had chewed through every pineapple I had gathered.

They didn’t stop at one or two—they had ruined them all.

Frustration burned in my chest. I leaped up and chased them, dagger in hand. They darted away, pausing only to taunt me before vanishing into a tiny hole at the base of a towering mountain. Panting, I stood there, my anger fading into exhaustion.

Then, they emerged again. This time, they weren’t running.

They were mating right in front of me.

The sight sent a violent tremor through my body. My mind spiraled back to that dreadful night—to Marcel’s twisted smirk, to the rough hands pinning me down, to the tearing of my clothes, and the sheer terror of what almost happened.

The weight of it all crashed down on me, and I clutched my chest, gasping for air, drowning in the memory of the assault I had barely escaped.

I felt the agony of being assaulted and harassed once more. Hatred welled up inside me—not just for Marcel, but for all men, for everything that reminded me of them, even the beasts in the wild.

Tears blurred my vision as I whispered, “I have to end it.”

I cursed Marcel under the stars, the sun, the moon, and all the heavenly bodies. I cursed him with the pain that haunted me in my nightmares—the terror of his hands on me, his weight crushing me, his vile intentions seared into my soul. My fingers tightened around the dagger. I lifted it, pressing the cold blade against my chest.

But fear gripped me.

I wanted to die, but I didn’t want pain—not a slow, agonizing end. It had to be quick.

Hanging myself would be too much like his hands on my throat. No, that wasn’t an option.

Then, an idea came to me. The mountain. If I climbed to the top and threw myself down, it would be over in an instant. One sharp impact, and I would never have to feel anything again.

I made my way up, my body weak but driven. When I reached the peak, a breathtaking sight unfolded before me—a vast, serene river stretched out below, its surface shimmering under the moonlight. The water wasn’t still; it churned and shifted, as if engaged in battle with an invisible force. Strange creatures lingered near its edges, watching the chaos in the center.

For a moment, I forgot everything.

I stepped forward for a better view—just one more step—when my foot slipped.

Panic exploded in my chest. I flailed, trying to grab onto something, but the ground crumbled beneath me. I staggered backward, my arms windmilling. Then, I was falling.

Terror swallowed me whole. I wanted to die, but not like this.

The world spun. Rocks scraped my skin. The wind screamed in my ears.

And then—nothing.

I woke up at the riverbank, drenched and aching. My limbs felt too heavy to move. The water lapped at my back, a soothing contrast to the sharp pain radiating through my body.

Where am I?

The last thing I remembered was the mountain, the creatures, the churning water… Had I imagined it all?

As I shifted to sit up, something tugged at my hair.

I turned—and froze.

A woman knelt beside me, her presence otherworldly. She was the most breathtaking being I had ever seen. Her eyes shimmered like liquid silver, her hair cascading in waves that seemed to blend into the night itself. A strange aura surrounded her, both comforting and terrifying.

Who was she?

And why was she here?