Blood Of The Forbidden Moon

(Kaelia’s POV)

The scent of lavender and lemon clung to the air in the Royal Palace — a thin, desperate mask to cover the truth. My truth. Beneath the layers of perfumed soaps and the strongest scent blockers I could afford, I was an Omega. Not just any Omega, but one born of a bloodline so forbidden it wasn’t spoken of in public. A Lupherian hybrid—the child of a werewolf and a moon-born spirit. An impossibility. A threat. A curse.

In the Kingdom of Veridia, society was neatly split: Alphas ruled, Betas served, Omegas obeyed. Alphas were the crown bearers, the warriors, the leaders. Betas, the silent gears that kept the world turning. Omegas—female Omegas—were cherished for their gentleness, their ability to bear heirs.

But I? I wasn’t supposed to exist.

Hybrids like me were hunted. Erased.

And so, I lived disguised as a Beta servant, hiding my scent, my strength, my nature—everything that made me... me. It was a lonely kind of survival, one that required disappearing into the palace walls.

“Kaelia! Are you slacking off again?”

Barnaby’s voice boomed through the kitchen, yanking me from my thoughts. He was the palace’s head cook—a surly Beta with arms like hams and a perpetual scowl.

“Those vegetables aren’t going to chop themselves! Prince Alarion’s birthday feast isn’t getting any closer.”

“Sorry, Barnaby,” I mumbled, already reaching for the knife, my fingers wrapping around the handle as if it were a lifeline. I began slicing carrots in precise, rhythmic strokes. The work was menial, repetitive—but comforting. It kept me hidden, out of reach from curious gazes and inquisitive noses.

Barnaby huffed. “You’re as clumsy as a newborn pup.”

I didn’t reply. I didn’t need to. I’d heard worse. I was small, unusually delicate for someone masquerading as a Beta. It made me a perfect target for mockery, suspicion, and the casual cruelty of those who thought themselves above me.

“Heard the Prince is turning thirty-one,” a nearby voice said, sliding closer. Gareth. A Beta by birth, Alpha by attitude. He stank of old sweat and unwarranted confidence. “Still unmated. Imagine that. A future king without an heir. What’s wrong with him, you think? Too picky? Or maybe… too broken.”

I kept my head down. Focused on the carrots. One stroke. Two. “I wouldn’t know,” I murmured.

Gareth leaned closer. “Oh, but you might. You’re always delivering food to his chambers. Maybe one day you’ll brush against him and… boom. Sparks fly. Imagine it. The mighty Alpha prince suddenly sniffing around a plain Beta girl like you.”

The knife slipped in my grip for a moment.

“Leave her alone, Gareth.”

Maeve’s voice cut clean through the air. She worked laundry shifts but often found ways to watch over me. “Go slither back into the wine cellar.”

Gareth chuckled and backed away. “Touchy today, aren’t we? Just saying. Everyone has a use. Even her.” He walked off, leaving his words clinging to my skin like oil.

Later, as I scrubbed the palace floors on my knees, I caught scraps of conversation floating from nearby maids. Prince Alarion this. Prince Alarion that. His birthday was nearing. Veridia’s grandest event, where noble Omegas dressed like delicate gifts and fluttered their lashes in hopes of catching his eye.

“He’s too proud,” one maid whispered. “Turned down dozens of suitable mates.”

“Maybe he’s waiting for a sign,” another said, giggling. “The Moon Goddess works in strange ways.”

I said nothing. Just scoured the marble floor harder.

Destiny was a luxury I didn’t have.

My destiny was not romance. It was survival. And my only purpose was to keep my mother safe.

My break couldn’t come fast enough. I found her in the palace garden, hunched over a bed of wild roses. Her hands—once strong, once so sure—were now lined and trembling, scarred by time and sorrow.

“Kaelia,” she said, smiling tiredly as I approached. “You look exhausted.”

“They’re treating me well,” I lied. “Just tired from the preparations.”

She didn’t believe me, of course. My mother never did.

“You’re pushing your luck by working in the kitchen. The closer you are to people, the more they sense the difference in you.”

“I’m careful,” I whispered, kneeling beside her. “Always.”

She clasped my hand—hers thin and cool, mine calloused from scrubbing. “I should have taken you far from this place. Far from this kingdom. You were born under a cursed moon. A child the world was never meant to see.”

“You saved me,” I said. “Don’t ever regret that.”

Her voice dropped lower. “Are the blockers working?”

“Mostly. I’ve started doubling the dose. Even added stronger formulas.”

The lie burned. I was sweating through scent blockers daily. My scent was strengthening—thicker, sweeter, unmistakably Omega. Or something more. Something not quite wolf. A ticking bomb.

She touched my face, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek. “You have your father’s eyes, you know.”

I looked away. “Let’s not talk about him.”

She nodded. We never did. My father—a royal wolf who turned rogue. A shadow in the kingdom’s history, and the reason I now had to exist like a ghost.

That night, with laughter echoing in the ballroom and the smell of roasting meats drifting along the cold stone corridors, I lay in the servants' dormitory, on a thin bed of straw that had a mildewy scent and hope, yeah, I don't know if hope smells but forgive my fantasy and let me have my daydream.

I stared up at the cracked ceiling and maybe I started dreaming without falling asleep first...The Prince was likely dancing with finely-dressed noble Omegas, bathed in silks and moonlight. I'd only ever seen him from a distance—his tall, commanding form, the sharp edge of his jaw, the distant cold in his gaze. He looked every inch the Alpha heir. But his eyes… they always looked tired. Like the weight of his crown was already carved into his bones.

I wondered if he ever dreamed of being free. If he ever resented the crown.

I wondered if he ever thought about love… not for duty, but for himself.

A foolish, dangerous thought stirred inside me. A fantasy I had no right to. I was a servant. An Omega in hiding. A forbidden child of a cursed bloodline. He was a Prince.

And yet… something fluttered in my chest.

A soft, whispering pull.

As if something—someone—was waiting.

Maybe it was the moon’s doing. Maybe it was just my loneliness. But even the strongest scent blocker couldn’t silence the part of me that still longed to be seen.

If only I had been born normal.

If only I had been born safe.

But I was born of the forbidden moon.

And sooner or later, the truth always rises with the tide.