My Runaway Luna (ENGLISH)

⸻ CHAPTER 1 – PART 1: Run Until It Hurts The cold tore at her skin like claws. Cordelia didn’t know how long she’d been running. The trees blurred past her in crooked shapes, their branches reaching like bony hands. Her lungs burned with each breath. Her legs screamed with every step. But she couldn’t stop. She wouldn’t stop. Not until the trees ended. Not until she was free. The forest was thicker than she remembered—darker, hungrier. Every root tried to trip her, every shadow whispered her name. Her bare feet bled on the jagged stones. The hem of her thin linen dress was torn and soaked with mud. Her hands were scratched, her body bruised, her heart somewhere between beating and breaking. Don’t stop. Don’t stop, Cordelia. Just run. The wind whipped through the trees from the south, carrying scents she didn’t want to recognize. Ash. Metal. Blood. And— Wolves. She nearly tripped. Her breath caught. Behind her, deep in the forest, she heard the distant snap of a branch. Not broken by chance. They’re tracking me. She ducked low, crouching behind a deadfall of moss-covered logs, eyes wide, chest heaving. Her fingers gripped the earth. Her nails dug into the dirt. She smeared herself with wet leaves, crushed berries, anything that might hide her scent. But it wouldn’t be enough. Not for them. They had her scent. The guards always did. Not because she was careless, but because she was something they could never be. Luna. She hadn’t known what that meant when they first whispered it in the halls of the mansion. When they started locking doors behind her. When the servants stopped making eye contact. When the old priest arrived with silver needles and iron ink. “You carry the blood of the moon,” he had said, as he pressed the burning seal to her collarbone. “You were born to serve the Alpha.” She hadn’t screamed. Not until she was alone. And tonight—finally, impossibly—she had run. Cordelia pressed her back against the damp bark of a tree. Her breath came in silent gulps. The cold had numbed her feet, her hands, her thoughts. But not her fear. It stayed sharp. In the distance, she heard them. Boots. Four, maybe five. Moving fast. The guards. She crouched lower, eyes flicking toward a narrow game trail that sloped down toward a dry ravine. She remembered it from the maps she had studied in secret—the old escape tunnels, the hollowed cliffs, the abandoned hunter roads. They hadn’t bothered teaching her geography. She’d stolen it herself. Now or never. She launched from her hiding place, slipping through the brush like a ghost. Branches clawed at her arms. A thorn caught her cheek and tore it open. Blood ran down her neck. A howl cut through the trees behind her. Not human. Cordelia didn’t look back. Her body was failing, but fear pushed it farther. Her breath came in sobs now. Not from weakness— But from rage. She hadn’t asked for this. Not the bond. Not the mark. Not the title of Luna-to-be. And certainly not the man—Alpha Caius. She had never seen him. Not once. He sent letters. Orders. Ritual instructions. Demands. But never himself. And still, he claimed her. As if she were a possession. As if her life were his to take. She stumbled down the slope, nearly falling, catching herself with a bruising impact against the rocks. Her knees buckled. The world tilted. For a moment, she lay there in the dirt, cheek against the cold stone, stars spinning above the black branches. And then— Boots. Closer now. Too close. A flicker of gold eyes in the trees above. No time. Cordelia rolled down the rest of the ravine, scraping her shoulder on jagged stone. She landed hard in a bed of moss and leaves. Her legs wouldn’t work. Get up, get up, GET UP— Somewhere inside, the voice of her mother echoed: “You were not born weak, Cordelia. You were just born a girl. That’s why they fear you.” She crawled. She pulled herself into the hollow of an ancient oak, its roots thick and open like a mouth. She pressed herself into the earth, wrapping her arms around her knees, shaking. A shadow passed just above. She held her breath. Another boot. Another sniff of the air. The guards. And something else—something heavier than the others. It didn’t speak. It didn’t move like the rest. But she felt it. Watching. Waiting. She bit her lip to stay silent. Blood filled her mouth. Then— A howl from the far east. One of the guards howled back in reply. They were moving away. The danger had shifted. Cordelia didn’t move. Not yet. Not until the wind changed. Not until her pulse slowed. Not until she knew— She was alone.