MY QUEEN MOON

Pain. A burning that started in her chest and spread through every corner of her body. That was the last thing Luciana felt before everything went black. And then... only white.

White. Blinding white. Annoying white. Unbearably perfect white.

—Am I in a damn dentist’s office or what? —she muttered with dry lips as she tried to open her eyes—. Or did I die...? Yeah? Is this heaven? Lame.

—No, Miss Luciana, this is not heaven —answered a deep voice that echoed through the entire room without a visible source—. Technically, you're not even alive.

—Ah, great. I’m dead and being talked to by a ghost?

—Dead, yes. But not permanently. I have an offer for you.

Luciana rolled her eyes. Or she would have, if she knew where the hell her eyes were at that moment.

—So... is this some kind of deal with the devil? Because spoiler: I’ve done business with worse. I ran a damn mafia clan, remember?

—I remember. I also remember how you blew everyone up in that ambush. An explosive ending. Very you.

—You take your enemies to the grave... and them with you —she smirked—. So? What kind of second chance are we talking about?

—I’ll send you to another world. A dangerous, unpredictable one. You’ll have to survive, avoid a war and...

—And?

—...and not cause more chaos than necessary.

—Ugh. And if I refuse?

—You’ll go straight to hell.

—And who would I find there? My traitorous sister? My murderous father? My psycho ex-boyfriend? What a party.

—Luciana...

—Alright, alright! I accept. But if I end up mucking stables or being some flea-ridden peasant, I swear I’ll come back just to kick you in the crotch, faceless voice.

A buzz vibrated in the air.

And then... darkness.

Upon waking...

A scent of lavender, incense, and herb-soaked bandages filled her senses. The light was no longer artificial white, but golden and warm, filtering through velvet curtains. Luciana blinked several times, and the first thing she saw was... an ornate ceiling.

—What the fu...?

A door burst open.

—Your Highness, you’re awake!

Luciana frowned at the young woman who entered with tearful eyes and a relieved smile.

—Your Highness? What kind of cosplay is this?

She tried to sit up, but a sharp pain made her groan.

—No, no, don’t move, miss! Your wounds... they’re still open —the girl whimpered, approaching with a damp towel.

Luciana watched her with suspicion.

—Who are you?

—I’m Liana... your maid. Oh, thank the gods you're alive. This time they nearly killed you. I think you should consider accepting the engagement with the Emperor of the North. He could protect you... if you stay here, your sisters will try again.

Luciana remained silent.

"Where the hell am I?"

She scanned the room: embroidered curtains, antique furniture, candelabras lit with real fire, no electricity. A vanity with perfume bottles. That lacy nightgown? And that porcelain doll staring at her from the corner?

No, no, no, no...

—Sorry... did you say “Your Highness”?

Liana froze, blinking.

—Yes... is something wrong?

—I don’t know where I am —Luciana admitted, tense as a violin string.

—Oh heavens! I’ll call the royal doctor!

—No! It’s just... I’m a bit dizzy. Tell me... what’s my name?

The maid stopped in her tracks. Swallowed with an audible gulp.

—Your name is... Abigail, Your Highness. Fourth princess of the Empire of Normalia.

Luciana stared without blinking.

—Is this a joke?

—Do you feel sick? Do you see double? Do you remember what day it is?

—I remember blowing up five traitors with a grenade and now I’m trapped in a period drama with no Wi-Fi —she muttered.

—Huh?

—Nothing. What happened to me?

—The first princess... Anet... attacked you. You were speaking with her fiancé and... she felt offended.

—Offended?

—She threw a cup at you, then pushed you down the greenhouse stairs.

—What a subtle way to “get offended.”

Luciana —now apparently Abigail— stayed silent. Her head throbbed, and then, like a waterfall, images flooded her mind: a fragile body, an absent mother, three cold sisters, an emperor father, wedding promises, a castle, and... blood. Too much blood.

—They want me dead —she said calmly, her lips tightening.

—Excuse me?

—I said I need tea. Strong tea. And a map of this place. And proper clothes. I can’t deal with conspiracies in a nightgown.

Liana, confused but obedient, ran off to fulfill her orders.

Luciana buried her head in the pillow, exhaling deeply.

—Great. I get killed in my world for inheriting a criminal empire... and I reincarnate as a princess with equally psychotic sisters. The only constant is betrayal.

Then she remembered what that voice had told her:

"Avoid a war..."

—What if the war already started? —she whispered.

And another phrase echoed loud and clear:

"Her name is Abigail... fourth princess of the Empire of Normalia."

Luciana stayed silent. Not because she didn’t know what to say, but because her brain had just shut down.

—It can’t be... —she whispered—. Abigail?

That name. She’d heard it before. No... she had read it.

---

Years ago, bored during a night shift at a mafia hideout, Luciana had read an old novel she found in the family library. A gothic, dark, and utterly absurd story... full of blood, castles, and werewolves.

The protagonist: Abigail.

A princess. Fourth daughter. Shunned by her sisters. But most importantly: her mother had been a wandering she-wolf who died during childbirth, never revealing her identity or the hidden legacy she left behind.

Abigail was half-werewolf.

Her transformation would occur once she came of age.

But she never reached it. She was murdered. By her sisters. Out of jealousy. Out of fear.

And then he appeared.

Kilian.

The King of the North. A pureblood werewolf from an ancient line who had been searching for his luna, his destined mate.

When he learned his luna had died before they met, he declared war on the Empire of Normalia.

The emperor, unaware of the truth, believed the king merely coveted his throne.

He had no idea that his daughter had been the last hope for peace between humans and werewolves.

Luciana let out a bitter laugh.

—Of course! I reincarnate as the protagonist of a tragic romance with fur and fangs. And on top of that, I’m a werewolf with a delayed activation date!

The door opened and Liana entered with a tray of tea and cookies.

—Your tea, Your Highness... are you... alright?

—Depends. Can you switch stories halfway through a book?

—Huh?

Luciana took the cup, still trembling slightly.

—Thank you, Liana. Did you say I was attacked for talking to one of my sisters’ fiancés?

—Yes, Your Highness. Princess Anet saw you talking in the garden with the... she pushed you down the stairs. Then she said you "fell on your own."

—How original!

She shifted carefully, staring into the steam of her tea as if it held answers.

—And tell me... that Emperor of the North you mentioned earlier, does he have a name?

—Yes, Your Highness. His name is Kilian. Kilian Aurelian Luperca. King of the Empire of Theron.

Luciana nearly spit out her tea.

—Of course that’s his name! The werewolf lead! With a shampoo-brand name and emotional baggage!

And then she understood.

The novel wasn’t just a memory.

It was a warning.

A guide.

A trap.

Abigail would die if she didn’t awaken her blood.

And when she came of age... the moon would call her.

—Liana.

—Yes?

—Bring me everything you have on Kilian. His movements, his preferences, his schedule... his diet, if possible.

—His... diet?

—Everything! And a mirror. And paper. And someone who knows about wolves.

—Wolves?

—Long story. I’ll tell you later.

Luciana was left alone, her heart racing and a new conviction taking root.

She wasn’t going to die a clueless princess.

She wasn’t going to repeat a story written by someone else.

She was going to survive.

And if the wolf king thought he would find his luna crying in a tower...

He better be ready.

Because this time, his moon had claws.

And she intended to use them.