His Cursed Luna

19. The Turning Tide

Penelope remained motionless, her eyes locked on the scene beyond the window. The world outside seemed almost unnaturally still, as though time itself had paused. The moat below reflected the pale light of the overcast sky, its surface smooth and unbroken, like a mirror hiding secrets in its depths. There was an eerie quality to its calmness, a silence that felt heavy and foreboding. It was as if the water itself was holding its breath, waiting for something—something inevitable, something catastrophic. Penelope couldn’t shake the feeling that this stillness was a harbinger, a quiet before the storm that would soon sweep through her life and leave nothing untouched.

Bridget stood a few paces behind her, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, her brow furrowed with concern. She had been speaking for some time now, her voice soft and measured, trying to offer comfort or perhaps distraction. But Penelope hadn’t responded, hadn’t even acknowledged her words.

Bridget hesitated, unsure whether to continue speaking or to leave Penelope to her thoughts. She could see the tension in her mistress’s shoulders, the way her fingers gripped the windowsill as though it were the only thing keeping her grounded. There was a hardness in Penelope’s expression, a resolve that bordered on recklessness, and it worried Bridget deeply.

“Penny,” she tapped on her shoulder.

“Huh,” Penelope finally acknowledged her presence. Bridget huffed.

"I heard Alpha Elijah is badly hurt and admitted to the Ancient's care home. They found a burnt body beyond recognition in the fire. Since Hykin was the only prisoner there, the Ancients suspect it to be him,” Bridget informed.

As she continued to stare out the window, the serene view of the moat offered no solace. Instead, it served as a stark reminder of the fragility of life and the unpredictability of fate. It was as if the moat was an embodiment of the chaos that existed just beneath the surface of her seemingly tranquil life. Despite her stoic exterior, Penelope's mind was in turmoil.

The fire, the charred remains of the body, the whispers of Hykin’s involvement—it was all horrifyingly familiar. Penelope’s chest tightened as the memories of Benjamin’s death came rushing back, unbidden and relentless. The past was no longer a distant shadow; it was here, clawing at the edges of her present, demanding to be acknowledged. She felt a cold wave of déjà vu wash over her, as though history was repeating itself in the cruelest of ways. The details of that tragic night, buried deep in her mind for years, now surged to the surface with painful clarity.

In her past life, she had witnessed a similar horror—a fire that had consumed not just a body, but a soul, a reputation, and the fragile trust within the pack. Benjamin, Elijah’s loyal Gamma, had been a pillar of strength and integrity, a wolf respected and admired by many. But that hadn’t saved him. Hykin, with his cunning and ambition, had orchestrated a web of lies so intricate that even the most discerning eyes had been fooled. Benjamin had been accused of using dark magic, a crime so heinous it carried a death sentence. Penelope remembered the night before his arrest with a sharp pang of guilt. Benjamin had come to her, his eyes filled with urgency, his voice low and trembling as he warned her about Hykin. “He’s not what he seems,” Benjamin had said, his tone desperate. “Promise me you’ll be careful.” But Penelope had been naive, too trusting of the pack’s hierarchy, too blind to see the danger lurking in Hykin’s shadow. She hadn’t realized it would be the last time she would see Benjamin as a free wolf.

The trial had been a farce, a spectacle designed to humiliate and destroy. Penelope could still see Benjamin standing before the pack, his head held high despite the weight of the false accusations. He had begged for mercy, his voice breaking as he pleaded his innocence, but his words had fallen on deaf ears. Hykin had been meticulous in his manipulation, presenting fabricated evidence and twisting the truth until even those who had known Benjamin for years began to doubt him. And then there were the looks—the way Benjamin’s eyes had locked with hers, filled with a desperate hope that she might intervene, that she might find a way to save him. But she had been powerless, trapped in a system that favored cunning over justice. Hykin had ensured Benjamin’s death was not just physical but symbolic, a message to anyone who dared to oppose him. The fire that consumed Benjamin’s body had also burned away his legacy, leaving behind nothing but ash and shame.

Penelope’s hands clenched into fists as the memories overwhelmed her. Benjamin’s death had been more than a loss; it had been a betrayal. His family had been cast out, their name tarnished, their grief compounded by the weight of dishonor. And Penelope had carried the guilt of her inaction like a stone in her chest. She had failed him. She had been too young, too naive, too trusting to see through Hykin’s schemes.

In this life, Hykin had been convicted for his crimes, and Benjamin was safe for now. But the news of the fire and Elijah's injuries had stirred something in Penelope. She knew that she needed to rethink her strategies, be more vigilant, and keep a closer eye on the actions of those around her. Hykin could never die in a mystical fire. In fact, he was well-versed in creating one.

Bridget watched Penelope for a while, trying to read her mind. Since the last couple of weeks, Penelope had appeared to be different. The sensitive, timid girl was gone. Her aura was calm and strong and somehow scary.

Bridget couldn’t ignore the change. She had been close to Penelope for years, and even though the princess had always had a quiet strength about her, something was undeniably off now. The soft, trusting girl who had once been easily swayed by others' opinions seemed to have been replaced by someone far more calculating and distant.

"Are you alright, Penelope?" Bridget asked, her voice hesitant, unsure if her words could pierce the armor Penelope had wrapped around herself.

Penelope turned to face Bridget slowly, her eyes betraying nothing. There was no warmth there anymore, no glimmer of the old Penelope. Her gaze was steady, almost unreadable, as she answered in a tone that could have frozen the air itself. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice even, smooth, and eerily calm.

But Bridget wasn’t convinced. The unease gnawed at her, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. “You look like the news is troubling you,” she said, her concern edging into her voice.

Penelope’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she exhaled slowly, almost too deliberately. “I am,” she replied, her tone clipped, dismissing the conversation as though it were insignificant.

Bridget’s worry deepened. This wasn’t the Penelope she had known, the girl who would have poured her heart out in an instant. This was someone different. Someone hardened. “Penny, tell me truthfully. What happened to you?” Bridget asked, taking a step closer, as if the physical distance between them might somehow bridge the emotional gap that had grown between them.

Bridget’s breath hitched in her chest as the reality of the situation settled in. Penelope had become someone she no longer recognized. She had become someone frightening. “Since the day of Isabella’s birthday, you… you’re different,” Bridget spoke again, her voice tight with a mixture of confusion and fear.

“I know what you’ve been doing. The Penelope I knew was naive and soft, but now… you plotted against them mercilessly.” Bridget’s words were heavy, as though each one carried the weight of her growing unease. She was struggling to make sense of the person standing before her, the princess who had once been her confidante, her friend. And yet, here was a woman who wore the mask of innocence, but behind that façade, Bridget saw something far more dangerous—a woman who had learned to play the game of power with ruthless efficiency.

Penelope remained silent, her gaze unwavering, and for a moment, Bridget wondered if she would ever hear the truth. Her heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to make sense of the transformation. “Why? What happened to you?” she whispered, almost pleading.

Finally, Penelope spoke, her voice low, a controlled calm that sent a chill through Bridget. “Bridget”

“It's not that I am with them, Penelope. I know your uncle is upto something.he wants you gone and he wants Isabella to rise, but…. I am only worried,” she said.

Penelope's mind was a complex web of thoughts and emotions, but her outward appearance remained calm and collected. The crisp autumn wind blew her untied hair. Her eyes shone in determination as she spoke, “Bridget, have faith in me. I will keep you safe, keep us safe.”

Penelope took a deep breath before she spoke again, “ and I will be gone for two days. Please make sure no one knows."

She knew Penelope for years and Penelope never left the castle on her own. A mixture of concern and surprise brushed her face. With wide eyes, she finally asked, “where are you going, Penny?”

Penelope took a deep breath and turned her gaze towards the horizon. The sun was setting, and the sky had hues of orange and pink. She had planned everything meticulously, and the time had finally come. She couldn't afford any mistakes, and it wasn’t the time yet to disclose the truth before Bridget.