Three-time Rejected Young Luna

Kiss of Abyss

It was always said that the world was divided into seven realms. The first realm was were the werewolves resided, guided by the moon and protected by the night. The night was longer here, like a blanket to the entire land given by the Moon Goddess herself. The first realm was divided into two officially, as per the records of old said: the eastern continent and the western continent. The western continent was where most packs resided. There were abundant preys here since ancient time. With a good topographical advantage for hunting and protecting, many packs chose this over the barren and rocky eastern continent.

But there was the third part of the first realm. It was unofficial and there were no records of the ancient records but this third part came with great momentum that no one dared to look down on it. In fact, they feared this third part.

It was the abyss.

No one knew what’s in there. All they knew was that the vast forest dividing the western and eastern continent was now occupied by this third part called Abyss. Darkness covered the sky and the storm never left within this area. The boundary between the night and the day blurred by this never-ending storm. It was always cold and dark in the abyss as if the light could not pierce through the darkness lurking beneath the tall ancient trees.

Anyone who dared ventured the abyss never lived to tell the tale. Those who were lucky to stumble out the premise of the abyss either died by unknown disease or died in their sleep.

Gradually, the mystery of the abyss was not solved. Instead, it only expanded. Massacres around the pack near the border started to occur. They came like phantom with only the intention to annihilate anything and anyone before them, leaving a trail of blood and crumpled mess of flesh from their victims. It was a s*******r. The proud werewolves, hunters of the first realm, were now being hunted by the abyss.

It was during in this moment that a pack shaman came up with the idea to surrender to the abyss which were opposed by the alphas. Submission to something unknown was out of the equation. So the alphas tied the pack shaman, intending to set an example. They tied her up and offered her to the border of the abyss, wanting to mock her to the death as she died by the very same method she proposed—submission equated sacrifice.

No one thought it would succeed. It was merely an example for their people. But the following night after the shaman was never to be seen again, the abyss stopped the s*******r. The first night, they thought it was a coincidence. Then the second night came, then the third, the fourth, and so on… the pack shaman was correct.

Submission was the answer. What form of submission that could appease both sides? The alphas would never bend the knee and show their necks so they picked the ‘failed’ women in their packs and offered them to the abyss the next day.

But the abyss never came again…until another twenty-five years later.

The alphas realized the cycle. They learned from the first ceremony. And the Tribute Ceremony was born officially. No one wondered what would happen to the women. No one cared. Why? Because only the sinners of the pack she-wolves would be selected to be a tribute in every twenty-five years.

Sinners…Tributes… with these, no guilt would be aroused but gratification. Selfishness masked by righteousness.

And now, only one among the eight women were taken. She was swallowed by the darkness that crawled from the forest. And in a blink of an eye, the woman at the center of the tributes was gone.

When the darkness crawled back to where it belonged, cheers erupted from the crown. The ceremony was successful. The prosperity of the pack for the next twenty-five years was secured.

Everyone was rejoicing. Even the failed tributes were crying in joy. Alpha Jake was surrounded by the council, being congratulated for his first ceremony. Alpha Luis, though stoic most of the time, was no sporting a small smile on his lips—his so-called justice for his missing daughter was finally served.

Only one person was silent, weeping for the world he had lost. At the corner, where no one cared to glance, the old man Roman was kneeling and crying silently with his head bow down on the ground. His shoulders shook and his body trembled.

He heard it clearly. He heard his little girl’s plea to forget about her. He wondered if his baby girl was scared at the moment.

Amid the celebration of the pack, one heart was ignited by vengeance. And he vowed to make these people feel what he felt right now.

Old Rome stood up slowly. With a limp, he slowly walked away, his back was more hunched than yesterday. The strands of his gray hair now turning white. But no one saw, the gleam of hatred flashing in his eyes as he left the place that killed his daughter.

x-x-x-x

Aria expected the numbing cold when she died. She pictured it many times how the cold would spread from her heart to her limbs.

But it never came.

Instead, warmth cradled her, lulled her to a deep sleep. Even when she tried to fight it, to remain sober until her very last breath, the pull to surrender to this warmth won. She succumbed to the darkness.

Even when the comfort of eternal sleep was tempting, a part or Aria’s subconscious was still vigilant—her wolf. Some moments, even when it was a matter of split second, Aria felt her being transported. There was no pain or abuse, but she was clearly being transported from one place to another.

At one point, she distinctly remembered the sound of talking. They were murmurs, barely audible for Aria to understand. Next, she smelled the scent of the water. And then, the sound of the cackling of embers. She heard it, saw it even, but together, Aria could not piece it together.

Goddess knew how long she remained in that state. She did not even know if she was just in the verge of death to be in this way. It might be her lingering consciousness, Aria did not know.

She was in a half-deep sleep state until she felt the coldness surrounding her ankles and wrists followed by the sound of the clanking metal.

“Oh, you are awake!” A cheery old woman’s voice pulled Aria from her daze. “Good! Good! I don’t have to drag you to the Lords’ chamber.”

“Where-Where am I?” Aria thought she was rescued, seeing a nomad like her hovering around her.

Click!

The old woman’s rotten teeth were on full display as she grinned at Aria. For a moment, Aria felt cold from the old woman’s eyes. It was a flash of a moment but her instinct woke her up from her expectation—she was not rescued. That look…pinned over her like invisible shackles

“Am I still in the Abyss?” Aria’s eyes were busy looking around her. But the dim luminance brought by the old woman’s lamp could only bring so much light in the big dark room. She looked back at the old woman who was now holding a white cloth.

“Those who survived longer were mute, lassie.” She handed Aria the cloth. “Here. Take off your clothes and wear this. Hurry. The Lords do not want to wait long or you will be punished.”

“Were? So they also died in the end.” Aria stood up, only to look down and see the familiar chains around her wrists and ankles. She was bound again.

“At least they survived longer.” The old woman gave an eerie chuckle as she looked back at Aria. “That is the feat.”

The old woman helped her cut her old clothes and replaced with the new. The clothes were nothing but a single oversized white-colored robe. Not embarrassed in front of the old woman, Aria, whose strength was yet to come back, let her help her.

Aria was then led by the old woman to a maze-like hallway. It was damp, dark, and smelled like rotten eggs. Bare feet, Aria followed the old woman. Each step she took, the rattling of the chains echoed in this narrow cold hallway.

Silence wrapped between the two. Even without the blindfold, Aria could only follow her instinct. She could not see anything. Her sense of feeling was shrouded by the biting cold in this damp and long passageway. And her sense of smell was overtaken by the awful smell of rot and sin. Beneath her feet, she could not recognize if she was stepping on pebbles or bones or whether she was stepping on dirty water or blood and urine.

This place was the personification of horror itself.

“We’re here.” The old woman stopped. She sidestepped, giving enough space for Aria to walk past her. “I can only guide you here. Just continue walking. Whatever you here, don’t answer.”

Aria looked ahead. Like usual, it was nothing but darkness. But somehow, she did not know how, she felt as if she was in front of a behemoth’s mouth. Her knees shook and her teeth chattered. She was afraid.

“Move.” The old woman yanked the chain, pulling Aria suddenly.

Aria could only move forward.

Just when she was steps away from the old woman, she heard her say: “If you think you heard anything, no you didn’t. If you think you saw or felt something amid the darkness, no you didn’t. If you want to run back here, death is only what’s waiting for you.”

What the old woman had said did not help her calm her nerves!

Maybe it’s been hours…maybe it’s been days…Aria only knew what’s thirst was and what’s hunger was after her legs grew numb and her feet felt it did not belong to her anymore.

She slept where she walked, open to anything what’s out there. She curled in a fetal position as her hands covered her ears. She would count from one sheep to hundred sheep until sleep took her. Then the cycle would repeat. She had no concept of time, but her body grew weaker. From steady steps to dragging her body as if her feet seemed to weigh like lead, it was torture.

And the fact that she did not know what kind of torture was waiting for her at the end of this highway to hell did not make her suffering any lesser. The fear of the unknown was killing her. Whoever designed this place was truly sinister.

When her body was about to collapse and her head felt so light, she felt it.

Aria felt a presence. It was suffocating, putting pressure on her and her wolf through hierarchical dominance system.

“Show yourself! If you think you can break me by doing this, you are wrong!” Her voice was hoarse and her throat felt as if it was being rubbed by sands.

Thud!

Weakened, Aria’s body knelt on the ground. Her hands supported her from really falling down on her face. Her head looked from left to right, sensing a presence that sent her instincts to haywire.

“Show yourself!”

It was here with her.

It was treating her as prey.

It was mocking her.

“Show yourself and stop hiding in the dark, you cowa—aah!” Aria jolted. She crawled forward desperately but the massive grip pulling her left her scrambling to hold onto something, anything.

Aria kicked the monstrous grip on her left ankle but she was answered by the shattering of her clothes, leaving her naked—vulnerable.

“Let me go! No! Aaah! Let me go!”

Bang!

Aria’s cheek stung. She felt her head buzz. The slap seemed to blow her head, making her doubt if her head was still attached to her neck.

Another muffled groan from Aria resounded as her neck was clasped in a deathly grip.

She screamed. She trashed.

But what enveloped Aria in despair was the fact that the monster shattered her chains, clasped both of her legs, and opened them for the horror that was yet to come.

“Noo—oh!”