Forsaken Luna

Nyx The night felt electric with excitement, but all I felt was nervous. The full moon hung swollen and heavy above the clearing, casting its silver glow upon the gathered pack. Shadows of bodies stretched long on the ground, broken only by the flicker of torchlight circling the sacred circle. The scent of pine, smoke, and the sharp tang of wolf magic curling in the wind. A cold shiver ran down the back of my spine and I pulled my cloak tighter around my thin shoulders, wishing I could disappear into the fabric. My heart rattled inside my chest as though trying to escape before the moment arrived. Around me, boys and girls my age stood straighter, eyes bright with anticipation. Fourteen. It was the age when every pup was expected to meet their wolf under the light of the moon. One by one, they would step into the ring, surrender to the call, and emerge in fur and bone as something new. Something whole. My stomach twisted. I was already different. Already marked. The alpha’s daughter. A girl no one believed belonged there. I should have been a boy. I caught a glimpse of my father, who smiled and nodded. He is the only person in the entire pack that believed in me. Even more than I believed in myself. I couldn’t let him down. I feared what might happen if I did. Tonight was supposed to prove to everyone in our pack that I was strong enough. Tonight, if I shifted, I could prove myself. I could show everyone that my father was the rightful alpha. I could show them all that I would be a good leader. “Nyx.” Finally, the elder overseeing the ritual called my name. For a moment I stood there, frozen in time. It was not a gentle voice. It was commanding, deep, and carried across the clearing with the weight of tradition. I forced my feet forward, each step heavier than the last. I reached the center. The moonlight poured over me, bathing me in cold silver. I tilted my face upward, letting it sink into my skin. My heart hammered. “This is it. Please, Goddess, don’t abandon me now,” I silently prayed. “Call your wolf.” The elder raised his staff. I closed my eyes. I reached deep inside, the way we had all been taught, seeking the presence that was meant to be half my soul. And I felt it. A stirring, faint and desperate, like claws scratching at a door. It was there. I was certain. Heat rushed down my spine. My knees buckled. Pain exploded through my bones, sharp and relentless, like something inside me was trying to tear its way free. I screamed, clutching my arms as my body convulsed. Gasps rippled through the crowd. My bones twitched but did not break. My skin burned but did not tear. The fire in my veins raged and then sputtered, leaving only shivers. I waited for fur, for claws, for the rush of instinct that would prove I was worthy. Nothing came. The silence was deafening. I collapsed onto my knees, chest heaving. Tears blurred my vision. “No,” I whispered hoarsely, shaking my head. “No, I … I can feel her. She’s coming. She’s there!” My voice cracked as I tried to force the words out. “She doesn’t have a wolf.” From the crowd, a girl’s voice sliced through like a blade. The words ignited laughter, cruel and cutting. A ripple of whispers followed, each one louder, more certain, more damning. “She’s broken.” One shouted and sneered. “She’s nothing.” “Omega trash.” Someone else shouted. My cheeks burned hot with humiliation. I looked toward the faces that stared at me. Mocking, pitying, unforgiving. I saw boys who had once shared meals with me now sneering. “I do!” My voice broke as I shouted over the laughter. Emerald eyes wide, desperate, brimming with tears. “I do have a wolf. I swear it! She’s inside me. She just … she just needs more time.” The elder’s expression was stone. The crowd’s laughter swelled, bitter and merciless. And then, above it all, came a voice that silenced everything. A voice that cut into me like a blade through flesh. My grandfather. He stood at the edge of the ring, his silver hair gleaming under the moon, his presence commanding in a way no other could rival. Not even my father. “A wolf who cannot shift,” His cold gaze swept over me, not with concern but with condemnation, each word heavy, final, “is no wolf at all.” The laughter stilled, replaced by a cruel, oppressive silence. My breath hitched, as my grandfather turned his back on me and left. My throat was tight with shame. I wanted to scream, to beg, to run. But my body would not move. My family, turning their back on me, was dismissing me as though I were already dead. The crowd followed, their whispers thick with disdain. Children who had once been my peers now looked at me like something foul. I stayed on my knees. The silver light washing my pale face, tears cutting down my cheeks. The ache in my chest spread, deeper than bone, deeper than soul. I had failed. Failed to shift. Failed my pack. Failed my father. Failed myself. The humiliation was complete. And yet, under the crushing weight of rejection, deep in the silence of my broken body, I felt it. Just for a fleeting second. “Not tonight, little one. But soon.” A whisper. A snarl, soft and promising. My head jerked up, emerald eyes wide, scanning the shadows as though the voice had come from outside me. The crowd had already turned their backs. The whisper faded, leaving only my humiliation in its place. But I clung to it, desperate, because it was all I had. Somewhere inside, my wolf had spoken. And though no one believed me now, one day, the pack would learn the truth. The moon had begun to sink when they finally dragged me out of the circle. My legs had long since gone numb. My body was still trembling from the phantom pain of a shift that never came. Two warriors, men who had once trained alongside my father, held me by the arms as though I were dangerous. I had no strength left in me. My hair hung in damp strands over my face, sticking to my cheeks where tears had dried in streaks of salt. They threw me to the floor in the great hall where the pack elders sat waiting with my grandfather. His piercing gray eyes finding mine. “She failed,” he said flatly. No ceremony, no hesitation. His voice carried through the hall, bouncing off the carved beams above. “The bloodline has ended with her.” He pointed at me. His look of disgust was like a punch to my stomach. “I didn’t fail. She’s there. My wolf is …” I lifted my head. My voice cracked. “Silence.” His voice struck like a whip. My breath hitched. My words dying in my throat. He was a stranger to me. “You shame this pack! You are a curse.” His voice was so thick with venom that it coiled in every syllable. “Your father thought you would rise. He thought you would lead. Foolish man. Your father’s blood was weak. You’ve proven it tonight.” At the mention of my father, my chest tightened. “I …” I tried, but my lips trembled, betraying me. My grandfather straightened, his contempt plain. “I’ll prove you wrong…” I whispered to myself. “A wolf who cannot shift is no wolf at all. From this night on, you are omega. You will serve this pack until the day you are buried in unmarked ground. That is your place. Do you understand?” The words struck harder than any blow. “Yes,” I whispered. The word scraped my throat raw. The warriors dragged me back to the servants’ quarters. The room was small, damp, and smelled faintly of mold. A thin mattress lay in the corner. A cracked basin by the wall. It was the space reserved for those of the lowest rank, those barely considered wolves at all. They shoved me inside and left without a word. “I felt you,” I whispered into the darkness. “I know you’re there.” My hands shook as I pressed them to my face. “Not tonight.” A low growl rolled through me, soft and mournful. My heart leaped. I wasn’t mad. I wasn’t empty. My wolf existed. I drew my knees to my chest, resting my chin on them. Tears started, and I let them fall into the scratchy fabric of my shirt until sleep finally claimed me, fitful and restless. Anger started to build inside me, despite my shame. A dark thought took root. If I couldn’t be their wolf, I would become their nightmare. The next morning came harsh and unforgiving. A sharp rap on the door startled me awake. “Put these on,” the door was flung open, and a woman strode in carrying a bundle of rough grey cloth. Before I could rise, she tossed the bundle onto the mattress. “Omega uniform. Best get used to it.” She sneered at me.