The morning air was heavy with frost. Seraphina awoke not to sunlight, but to a knock—firm and precise—against her chamber door.
She sat up quickly, eyes adjusting to the strange golden hue of the enchanted lanterns still glowing softly in the corners of the room. Her heart thudded against her ribs. She had hoped, foolishly, that yesterday had been a dream. That she would wake in her old room, in her old life, with fire and betrayal nothing more than shadows in her mind.
But the pendant at her throat pulsed gently, reminding her otherwise.
The knock came again.
"Luna?" A calm male voice filtered through the heavy door. "The Council awaits your presence."
Luna.
That word again.
Seraphina rose, sliding her bare feet into the thick fur slippers someone had left by the bed. A gown had been laid out for her on a nearby chair—deep midnight blue with silver embroidery that shimmered like starlight. Her fingers lingered over the fabric. It looked... expensive. Regal.
Like it had been made for a queen.
She dressed in silence, braiding her hair quickly, refusing to look too closely in the mirror. Her reflection unsettled her—she still didn't recognize the woman staring back with those sharp, haunted eyes.
Another knock.
"I'm coming," she called sharply.
When she opened the door, a tall man with silver eyes and two thick braids stood outside, dressed in a formal black cloak trimmed in gold. His face was stoic, his posture perfect.
"I'm Dren, personal guard to Alpha Lucien," he said, bowing briefly. "I'll escort you to the Council chamber."
"Do I need protection already?"
"You need guidance," he replied evenly. "And strength."
She studied him for a moment. He reminded her of a blade—cold, sharp, quiet until drawn.
"Lead the way, then."
The halls were mostly empty as they walked, though she caught occasional glimpses of guards posted at key corners, and once, a group of young warriors training in the courtyard. Every time someone saw her, they paused. Bowed. Whispered.
Not out of respect. Out of fear.
When they reached the tall, rune-etched doors of the Council Hall, Dren paused.
"Whatever happens in there," he said quietly, "show no fear. Even if you feel it."
"Why?"
"Because weakness is blood in the water. And the Elders… they're wolves."
He didn't smile. Didn't blink.
The doors opened with a rumble.
Inside, the chamber was arranged like a tribunal—six curved stone seats forming a half-circle around a sunken dais. In the center stood Lucien, arms folded across his chest, his black cloak trailing on the cold stone floor. His presence filled the room like a thundercloud.
"Luna Seraphina," Dren announced as she entered.
She walked to the dais, spine straight, refusing to let her nerves show. The six Council members studied her with varying degrees of distaste, curiosity, and suspicion. All wore robes of dark crimson and obsidian, with golden wolf insignias stitched over their hearts.
An older woman with piercing gray eyes and a crown of twisted bone spoke first.
"State your lineage."
Seraphina blinked. "I—"
"She is newly reborn," Lucien interrupted. "Her former identity no longer applies."
Another man sneered. "Convenient. For a girl raised outside the Pack to suddenly appear as your Fated Mate, during a cursed blood moon? What proof do we have she isn't a plant? A weapon?"
Seraphina narrowed her eyes. "A weapon against what?"
"The Court of High Witches. The Northern Kings. Our own internal bloodlines." Another elder leaned forward. "You walk in fire, girl. The marks of the ancient curse swirl around your very soul."
"I didn't ask for this."
"Nor did we," the gray-eyed woman snapped. "Do you even understand what your presence here means? The last time a Luna came cursed, three Alphas died within a week."
"That wasn't me."
"But it is now," she replied sharply. "You are tied to Lucien by fate. And that fate drags us all."
Lucien stepped forward. "The Council will not question my bond."
"You have no right to claim a cursed mate without trial!" one of the younger male Elders barked.
"She is mine," Lucien growled. The room vibrated with the force of his words.
Silence followed.
Seraphina's skin prickled. She wasn't sure if the chill was from the Elder's threats… or from Lucien's possessive declaration.
The gray-eyed woman finally leaned back. "Then let the trial be held. She may walk among us, but the Pack will judge her worth."
"What trial?" Seraphina asked slowly.
"The Trial of the Moons," Lucien said grimly. "Three nights. Three tasks. Survive them… and the Pack will accept you."
"And if I don't?"
The gray-eyed woman gave her a razor-thin smile.
"Then the curse dies with you."
---
The news spread like wildfire.
By the time she returned to her quarters, whispers echoed through the halls. Pack members eyed her with both awe and resentment. A cursed Luna. A marked mate. A human girl reborn by fire who dared to wear the crown of a dead queen.
Dren walked silently beside her, every step tense.
"You knew this would happen," she said, stopping in front of her room.
"Yes."
"You didn't warn me."
"I didn't need to," he replied coolly. "You would've come anyway."
"Why does everyone hate me already? I haven't done anything."
"You exist. That's enough." His eyes bore into hers. "You broke the laws of nature. Rose from death. Bonded with the most feared Alpha in a hundred years. The Pack fears what they don't understand."
"And Lucien?"
Dren hesitated.
"He doesn't fear you. That should scare you more than anything."
---
Later that night, Seraphina wandered into the garden just outside the eastern wing. A path of silver-lit stones wound through tall hedges, moon lilies, and dark roses that glowed faintly under the stars. The air was crisp, and for a moment, she felt the weight of the castle fall away.
She wasn't alone.
Lucien stood at the edge of the garden, hands clasped behind his back, staring out over the cliffs beyond the Pack's borders. The moon painted his features in sharp angles—strong jaw, high cheekbones, eyes like burning garnets.
"You shouldn't be out alone," he said without turning.
"I needed air."
"You'll need more than that to survive the trials."
"I didn't ask for them."
"No," he said softly. "But you'll face them anyway."
She walked up beside him, letting the silence stretch.
"Do you regret finding me?"
Lucien finally looked at her. "No."
"Even if I'm cursed?"
"You think I'm not?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper. "I was born under a blood moon. My father tried to have me drowned before I shifted. My own pack feared I'd become the next Reaper Alpha. They weren't wrong."
"Then why are you still here?"
"Because I made them fear me more than they feared the prophecy."
Seraphina looked at him then—really looked. And for the first time, she saw not just a warrior, but a survivor. Someone who had clawed his way out of death and shadow and claimed a throne built on bones.
"You're not what I expected," she said.
"And you're exactly what I hoped for."
The words startled her.
Lucien stepped closer. "I didn't need a weak Luna to play politics. I needed someone fate would fear. Someone who'd walk through fire to take what was hers. You are power, Seraphina. You just haven't remembered it yet."
She felt the pull between them again—magnetic, dangerous. It wasn't just attraction. It was need. Destiny. Like two storm fronts colliding.
"I don't know how to be Luna," she whispered.
"You don't have to know," he said. "Just survive."
---
The next morning, the horns sounded across the valley.
The Trial of the Moons had begun.
Dren escorted her to the ceremonial grounds, where hundreds of pack members had gathered in a wide ring of stone and frost, overlooking the cliffs. The council stood elevated behind a marble podium. Lucien remained below, silent, eyes fixed on her.
"The first trial," the gray-eyed Elder announced, "is the Trial of Shadows. The cursed Luna must enter the Obsidian Maze and retrieve the fang of the fallen Alpha before the third bell tolls. If she fails—she dies within."
The Obsidian Maze was a twisted creation of magic and stone—walls taller than three men, built of jagged black rock that hummed with cursed energy. No one had survived it in fifty years.
Seraphina stepped forward.
She could feel the fear in the air.
She pushed it aside.
As the bell rang once, she crossed the threshold into darkness.
---
Inside, the maze was alive.
Whispers slithered along the walls, illusions flickered at the edges of her vision. She heard voices—her own, Lucien's, even her betrayers from her past life.
You'll never be enough.
He'll never love you.
You were better off dead.
"No," she snarled, pushing forward.
Runes lit beneath her feet as she passed certain turns. At one junction, a beast lunged from the wall—its form skeletal, eyes burning. She grabbed a broken spear from the ground and jammed it upward into its throat.
It screamed—but not before biting deep into her shoulder.
She cried out, stumbling, blood already staining the fabric of her gown. But she kept moving.
Each corner brought a new terror.
At the center of the maze, atop a cracked pedestal, sat a wolf fang the size of her palm. It glowed faintly, carved with ancient script.
Seraphina reached for it.
The pedestal roared to life—exploding in flame.
She didn't flinch.
The fire curled around her skin but did not burn. The flame bowed to her. Welcomed her.
Because she had already died in fire once.
And fire does not fear its own.
She took the fang.
The third bell tolled.
And Seraphina Rhen, cursed Luna of Midnight, stepped from the maze with blood on her skin and victory in her hand.
---
Gasps echoed across the crowd.
Some were shocked.
Some... impressed.
But all knew what they had just witnessed.
Lucien approached her, gaze unreadable.
"You bled," he said softly.
"I survived."
He reached out, brushing his fingers over the wound on her shoulder. It healed instantly beneath his touch. The magic between them pulsed, stronger than before.
The bond was growing.
"Good," he said, voice rough. "Because the next trial will be worse."
And as she met his gaze, something stirred inside her.
Not fear.
But fire.