SHE IS NOT OUR LUNA

CHAPTER 5

The world shifted.

It started with a sudden gust of wind sweeping through the corridor—indoors. Papers flew, lockers rattled, and the hum of electricity overhead spiked into a high-pitched whine. Amara clutched her head, her knees buckling beneath her.

“Amara!” Rita tried to catch her, but Amara’s body radiated heat, sharp and wild. Rita pulled back, startled by the intensity.

Amara’s eyes snapped open.

They weren’t brown anymore.

They glowed—a luminous silver-gold, swirling like molten light.

The floor vibrated faintly beneath them. Cracks etched along the walls as if the building itself was holding its breath. The hallway around them dimmed, shadows deepening unnaturally.

Gasps echoed. A few students had stepped into the corridor, staring. Some were already backing away. Phones were out. Someone screamed.

Amara couldn’t move—she didn’t know how. Something inside her had taken over, a force pushing outward. She felt everything—every heartbeat in the room, the pull of the earth, the song of the wind outside like it was calling to her.

“I can’t—” she whispered. “I can’t stop it.”

Then—

A voice.

Low. Firm. Familiar.

“Amara. Look at me.”

Luciano.

He stepped through the chaos as if it parted for him. His golden hair was tousled from the wind, his eyes glowing faintly with their own power.

“Breathe,” he said. “Just breathe. You’re not alone.”

“I can’t—” Her voice cracked.

“You can.” He stepped closer, ignoring the heat, the light. “Focus on me. Not the noise. Not the fear. Me.”

Her glowing eyes locked with his—and slowly, like a flame dimming at the edge of a storm, the pressure inside her began to fade. The wind dropped. The light receded from her skin. Her breathing slowed.

Luciano caught her as she collapsed forward, arms steady and warm.

“We need to go,” he murmured, lifting her gently. “Now.”

Then, with Amara in his arms, he disappeared into the shadows—gone before anyone could stop them.

The familiar gate creaked open, and the family’s front door swung wide as soon as Luciano’s car pulled in. Rita had called them telling them they are on their way home with the prince.

Her mother rushed out first, apron still dusted in flour, her face pale. Her father followed closely behind, his usual calm now laced with unease. Rita stood in the doorway, arms folded tight across her chest, eyes on her sister like she was afraid she'd vanish again.

Luciano stepped out and walked around to the passenger side, opening the door.

“She’s okay,” he said gently, helping Amara out. “Just exhausted. Nothing serious.”

Her mother’s hand shot up to her mouth, eyes brimming with relief and silent panic. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

Luciano gave a warm but distant nod. “No need for titles,” he said, glancing toward Amara. “She just needed rest. And a safe place.”

He didn’t mention what had happened at school, he knew Rita will tell.

He saw the way they looked at him—her family. Too grateful. Too alert. Hiding something.

But he said nothing.

“I should go,” he added. “I’ll check in tomorrow, if that’s alright.”

“Of course, yes. Thank you again, Prince… Luciano,” her father stammered.

Luciano turned to Amara. For a moment, their eyes met.

His voice dropped. “You’re safe now. For tonight.”

And then he left.

Once the door closed, the house was still.

Until her mother exhaled sharply, panic cracking her composure. “Did he say anything? Did he see anything?”

Amara sat on the couch, silent. Still shaken, but steady.

“I don’t think so,” she said softly, though she wasn’t sure.

Her father paced “If he tells the king… if the truth gets out—”

“They’ll kick us from here,” her mother said, the word a whisper filled with fear. “They’ll exile us. Or worse.”

Rita leaned against the wall, looking between them all. “No one knows she’s adopted. We’ve protected that. And if Luciano did see something, he’s clearly keeping it quiet—for now.”

“But for how long?” her father asked.

Silence again.

Then Amara stood.

“I’m tired of being protected from something you all won’t even explain.”

Her voice was quiet but heavy with resolve.

“Who am I?” she asked.

No one answered.

But across town, in the castle, the prince was already writing to Elder Kaelith.

The ancient stone halls beneath the castle were quiet at this hour, lit only by the soft flicker of oil lamps and the faint blue glow of enchanted runes etched into the walls. It was here, deep beneath the royal wing, where only a few ever tread, that Elder Kaelith chose to reside.

Luciano knocked once on the weathered oak door. It opened without a sound.

Inside, the air was thick with incense—earthy and sharp. Shelves crowded with scrolls and vials lined the room, and strange herbs hung from the ceiling like sleeping bats. In the center, a large basin of silver water shimmered faintly, rippling although untouched.

Elder Kaelith stood at the far end of the room, her back to him, her white robes flowing like mist. Her hair was long and silver, her voice like falling leaves.

“I’ve been expecting you,” she said.

Luciano stepped in, closing the door behind him.

“You told my parents there was one who would come,” he said. “Someone different. Not wolf, not human… something in between.”

Kaelith turned, her cloudy eyes unreadable. “And you believe it is her.”

Luciano nodded. “She doesn’t know what she is. Her family is hiding the truth. But I saw it. I felt it. She changed the air around her. Light bent. The wolves outside lowered their heads. That doesn't happen—even for royalty.”

Kaelith moved to the basin and dipped her fingers into the silver water. It reacted instantly, glowing brighter.

“She is not of your world, nor entirely of theirs,” Kaelith murmured. “She was brought here by forces older than the forest, hidden beneath the cover of love and lies. The wolves were never meant to raise her. But fate made it so.”

Luciano stepped forward. “What is she?”

Kaelith looked up slowly, eyes locking with his.

“She is seeded,” she said, voice trembling slightly. “Born of the old blood. Before there were wolves. Before there were kings. She carries within her the spark of the first flame. A gift... or a weapon.”

Luciano felt a chill run down his spine. “Does she know?”

“She only knows the fear of being different,” Kaelith said. “But soon, the fire will wake fully. And when it does… not even the Alpha King will be able to tame her.”

Luciano’s jaw clenched. “Then what do we do?”

Kaelith turned back to the basin. The water darkened, swirling into images of fire, forests, and a girl with glowing eyes.

“You stay close,” Kaelith said. “Because when the flames come… she’ll need someone who sees her, not just the power.”