Curse of the Luna #STARYWRITINGACADEMYV

Part 3

Cold. Freezing Cold. That's the first thing I could feel, think, and comprehend as I lay still on the ground. My long golden robes draped against the hard ground.

The woods were wet with the stench of something rotten, a ball forming in my throat. It was rancid. My eyes squinted as I tried to adjust to the moonlight pouring through the branches. My head throbbed as I felt the liquid trickling down my head and seeping onto the exposed neck—sticky, half-dried, sweet as rot.

Shadows loomed over but I could not lift my head enough to look at their faces. Who are these people?

"Hurry up, will you?" A voice hissed, the pacing continuing.

"I cannot see very well in this dark."

"That's not my problem! We have to do this quickly, or we will be done."

"Don't remind me!"

It's two men. Tall, buff and motivated to do whatever they have been asked to. At least that's what I figured out as they resumed their conversation. Who was behind this? I wondered while trying to keep my eyes clenched shut, my body curling up in a ball.

My lips parted, throat parched as I tried to make out the words, tongue feeling like sandpaper.

Suddenly, a strange sort of sensation started unfurling in my belly, spreading all over my body. I broke out in sweat, the tingling made my toes curl in anticipation as I said a mental prayer to be rescued.

Then it happened.

Within the blink of an eye, a wolf err a werewolf swung by and changed everything.

I panicked as I realised– this wasn't just a creature, this was a wolf. And not just any wolf. He had that unmistakable alpha aura-dominant, steady, almost suffocating in its quiet power. The kind of predator you didn't make eye contact with, someone who will make your instincts scream at you to flee from. But instead of running, I just sat there. Red-faced, frozen, like some kind of i***t.

Werewolves don't exist. Stop talking nonsense. That's what my father said when I asked him. I was six and had just overheard a few staff whisper among themselves. He was a firm believer in such things—not entertaining the thought of other creatures occupying the land.

Of course that answer did not satiate the curiosity inside me. So, as soon as I was given access to the library I read everything there was about the werewolves which did not feel like much.

My entire body went rigid as I took a good look at the person in front of me. Tall, broad shoulders, his frame muscular; one that filled the space. His hair pushed back messily from his face, jaw sharp, the coat slightly damp and clinging to his skin.

***

"Stay away from my mate."

Mate. I gasped as the man writhed under his weapon in agony, blood gushing out, choking. My face paled as I watched the werewolf, now a shifted human slowly pull away from him. A sick sort of satisfaction was taking over his face which made my stomach twist.

His eyes were dark and unreadable, which landed on me with an unreadable calm.

And for a second I forgot how to breathe. I sat frozen, cheeks flaring pink without warning, heat rushing to my face as my wide eyes drank the stranger in.

But before panic could properly bloom in my chest, I watched as he took hesitant steps in my direction.

The man spoke– calm, low, and unexpectedly gentle.

"It's okay," He said, voice rough like gravel but steady. "They are dead."

As those words sank in, the reality of the situation hit me. A werewolf. And he killed two people without any mercy right in front of me.

"Uh..." I stuttered, putting some distance between us, hands sweaty as I tried to clench the sides of my dress. His eyes zeroed in on the action, his features softening.

"I know this isn't..." He raised his hand in defence, shoulders sagging, "but allow me to explain..."

"Umm...I have to go..." I yelped and without listening to him turned on my feet and ran as fast as I could. My heart started racing, lungs burning as I pushed myself, trying not to look back. The wind sliced past me, hair clinging to the side of my face, my back sweaty and damp.

Adrenaline coursed through me as I simply raced, nothing mattered at that moment. The only thing I focused on was my escape, sending infinite prayers that he won't catch up or follow me back to the Palace.

As few minutes passed by and I didn't hear a moment, I looked over my shoulder. There was no one except the dense rows of trees.

It felt as if I had imagined the whole thing.

***

Somehow I managed to make my way out on the main, extravagant patio staring up at the infinite display of wealth. I surveyed the scene before me, the only difference being that normally when my gaze flitted past the doors, I was simply greeted by the tranquillity of the dark, barren alleyways.

Standing before the doors of the great hall sent a shiver down my spine. I was hyper aware of what was waiting beyond these grand doors.

The people are waiting for me.

I swallowed a lump in my throat as I used the other side of the door where guards were not stationed. It gave me an easy pass to slip in.

I could immediately spot flashes of pastel chiffon, gauzy silks, and lace as several of them gathered in the middle of the dance floor. My eyes turned to an extravagant tray of sweets stacked behind the guests, almost begging to be devoured. As much as I would like to inhale the whole thing all in one go, to do so would mean having to partake in the tedious tango of tiptoeing around everyone.

"If you glare any harder at that tray, they might start burning, Your Royal Highness," an amused voice broke me out of my reverie.

I abruptly turned around, and heaved a sigh of relief when I saw it was my favourite confidante.

Eric's face went blank as soon as he took in my state.

The knight looked dashing in his ballroom attire, all black velvet and his royal pin.

"What happened, Your Highness?" He raised his hand as if to touch my cheek but it immediately curled into a fist by his side. I watched as rage took over him. "Who did this? Just give me a name and I will tear their head off."

That's when it sank in, the blood trickling down my neck, the dried leaves clinging to my feet, the dirt-soaked shoes. I must have looked like I rolled in a puddle. Without thinking I immediately scooted closer to a pillar, pulling a curtain over.

"It's nothing...I was in a hurry and I slipped in the garden."

He opened and closed his mouth, looking at the large windows over my shoulder. Even though Eric didn't appear convinced he slowly nodded his head.

"Are you injured?"

"A little."

"Do you want me to escort you to our in-house doctor?"

"No!" I sharply said. "I mean...I can't go now. Everyone is waiting for me."

"You certainly cannot go like this. It will raise a lot of concerns."

"You are right."

I sighed.

"I'll stall Your Highness for some time. Please go and change."

"Thank you!"

***

The copper-colored tub sat in the middle of a turquoise-tiled room and was full of lavender soaps, and pleasing pink flowers. I was supposed to take it after my attendance in the ballroom.

I could already see the steam rising from the bubbly and fragrant water.

It soothed me when the water was so blistering that it left a red mark upon my skin when I finally exited the tub. Even after sitting in the hot liquid, it did not help the jumbled mess of thoughts that usually lay dormant in my head and instead, a sharp pain echoed in my gut.

The sound of knocking echoed so I hurriedly slipped out of the tub and into one of the gowns.

If the maids appeared taken aback by my wet hair and change of gown, a fresh swollen red face they did not utter a word.

A knot formed in the pit of my stomach as I slowly descended the stairs. My steps faltered at times, getting strange looks from the maids, their eyes following me.

My father would be waiting at the bottom of the stairs, eager to take me to the ballroom so that I could be introduced to our people.

***

"What is the meaning of this, Princess Samara?"

Dressed in our royal colours, my father appeared the epitome of everything a King should be, wise, powerful, cunning and well dressed.

Sighing and taking a deep breath I squared my shoulders and presented as I should, as a high-born should. From the corner of my eye, I could see a glint in my stepmother's eyes. She must be itching to say something.

"I can explain..."

"Shut it! I asked for one thing."

"Father..."

"Dear there is no use in fretting now..." My stepmother said, placing a hand on my father's shoulder. "We can manage. Do not let this ruin the day for you."

"I am sure Princess Samara has a story behind this." She looked in my direction with a sympathetic look, dismissing the maids.

"Unbelievable." He huffed under his breath and then motioned for the guards standing at the door.

"Take my hand." My father grunted as he finally came to stand next to me.

I swallowed noisily, fingers turning clammy.

Before I could ponder, the great doors of the hall opened and I was greeted with a sea of people in front of me. Within the esteemed room, every person of importance was present there. The high ceiling and the candles light the room in a way that seemed warm in this cold environment.

That's when I spotted those eyes. In the middle of all the people, glaring and bright. Green and accusing. My vision started getting blurry, spots dancing in front and before I could take a breath, my body collapsed and hit the ground.

***