Rise of the Cursed Luna

Elara's POV

I dragged myself up the stone steps of the Pack House, my legs shaking. Three days in the medical wing had left me weak. The silver poisoning still burned in my veins, and my shoulder throbbed where the trap had torn through.

Something heavy crashed at my feet.

My suitcase split open on the ground, clothes scattered everywhere. A pair of boots landed in a puddle.

Isabella Blackwood stood at the threshold, towering above me with her arms crossed, her light brown eyes gleaming with a mixture of jealousy and disgust. Her lips curled into a sneer as she spat out the words, "From today on, you un-awakened piece of trash, get the hell out of Shadowveil Pack! You've found your real father anyway—so why don't you crawl back to that filthy omega family where you belong?"

I looked down at my wrist. The black marks were darker now, spreading up my forearm like thorny vines.

"Did you hear me?" She stepped onto the porch. "Pack your garbage and leave. We don't need an un-awakened failure polluting our territory."

I bent down slowly and started gathering my clothes. My shoulder screamed in protest.

"Isabella, that's enough." Reginald Blackwood came out with Vanessa beside him. "Elara has lived with us for eighteen years. We should at least—"

"Should at least what?" Isabella whirled on him. "The Northern Wolf Trial spots came this morning. Shadowveil Pack only got two! Vanessa is Beta family—she deserves to represent us. Not some un-awakened nobody who can't even shift!"

The trial. So that's what this was about.

Vanessa stepped forward, her blue eyes wet with fake tears. "Mom, please don't be so cruel." Her voice trembled perfectly. "Maybe Elara worked really hard for that. Maybe I'm just not good enough. Maybe that's why she doesn't want me to have it."

I almost laughed.

Reginald sighed. "The trial is more than competition, Elara. It's a showcase. The Alpha heirs from major Packs will be there. We can't send someone who will embarrass us. An un-awakened wolf competing against the best, it would make us look weak."

I understood. Vanessa wanted my spot. They were taking it.

The memory hit me hard. Three days ago. The full moon hunt. The silver trap flying toward Vanessa's throat. My body throwing itself in front of her. The marks on my wrist burning like fire. The trap piercing my shoulder, tearing through flesh. But I'd felt something pulling, like the injury was being yanked from somewhere else and threaded into my bones.

Vanessa walked away without a scratch. I collapsed, convulsing as silver poisoned my blood.

I'd heard Isabella whisper over Vanessa: "If she dies, it proves the Siphoning Hex worked perfectly."

Reginald's tense response: "If the Council finds out we're using forbidden blood magic, we're finished."

I'd been too delirious to understand then. But three days in bed gave me time to think. Time to remember.

When I was nine, I was washing dishes in the Pack House kitchen when the bowl slipped from my hands. I collapsed, convulsing. Glass shards tore through my arms and thighs as if they'd materialized from thin air, blood spraying across the tiles.

The Pack doctor found broken ribs and internal bleeding—injuries from a car accident. But I'd been safe in the kitchen the whole time. Vanessa came home that evening and mentioned she'd almost been hit by a car but dodged it. I spent six months bedridden. The marks on my wrist grew another ring.

At twelve, the injuries made me the school freak. I'd vomit blood in class, collapse in hallways, bleed from my eyes during gym. Students avoided me, whispering I was cursed. The bullies locked me in closets filled with silver powder. They stuffed dead rats in my backpack. Doused me with freezing water in the bathroom. But teachers looked away.

I was fifteen when I met Lydia by chance, an ancient Guardian mage who'd taken one look at my wrist and gone pale with horror. "Blood Siphoning Mark," she'd whispered, her weathered hands trembling as she traced the black thorns. "Forbidden magic—they're using you as a living shield, transferring every injury meant for another directly into your body."

She'd taught me to weave soul protection barriers after that, intricate magical constructs that slowed the life force drain and bought me time to recover between transfers. Without those barriers, the silver poisoning from three nights ago would have killed me.

"Are you even listening?" Isabella screeched. "I said get out before I have guards throw you out!"

I looked at her. "Are you done? Can I leave now?"

She blinked, surprised.

Reginald cleared his throat. "Since you're leaving, the trial invitation should go to someone who can represent us. Vanessa will take your spot."

Vanessa pulled out an envelope. "Here's a thousand dollars as compensation, sister," she said, her tone dripping with false sympathy. "I heard your biological pack is in Mississippi. They're quite... poor, aren't they? This should help you settle in."

Isabella laughed, shrill and ugly. "Those Packs have three males for every female. You'll fit right in. A broken, un-awakened thing like you is perfect for breeding stock. At least you'll finally be useful."

"There's a smell coming from you," I said quietly. "Decay. That's what happens when you use blood magic."

Isabella's face went white. Then red with rage. She lunged forward.

"Mom, no!" Vanessa grabbed her mother's arm, but her nails dug into my wounded shoulder. Pain exploded through me.

The slap snapped my head sideways. I tasted blood.

"You ungrateful little wretch," Isabella hissed. "After everything we've done for you—"

Then I saw the pendant around Vanessa's neck. Silver chain. Moonstone with blue sheen. Protective runes carved in the setting.

My grandmother's pendant. The only thing she ever gave me before she died.

"How did you get that?" My voice cracked. "That pendant is mine."

Vanessa's hand flew to her throat. "This? Mom said it's a Blackwood family heirloom. She gave it to me for my birthday."

"Liar." I stepped toward her. "Grandmother gave that to me. Give it back."

Isabella moved between us. "That pendant belongs to Blackwood blood. Vanessa is my true daughter. You're just some orphan we took in. You have no right to family treasures."

Vanessa stroked the pendant, smiling. "I'm sorry if you're confused, sister. But it's mine."

"I know what's mine," I said, my hands shaking.

Reginald stepped forward. "Elara, this behavior is exactly why you can't stay. Making accusations, claiming things that aren't yours. The pendant is Vanessa's."

Isabella smiled cruelly. "Oh, I see. You don't care about sentiment. You want to sell it. That moonstone is worth five thousand dollars."

"Look at her," Vanessa said softly. "So desperate for money she'd lie about a dead grandmother. It's pathetic."

I stared at them. At the pendant on Vanessa's throat. At the life she'd built on my broken bones.

I'd spent eighteen years trying to earn their approval. Learning etiquette until my back ached. Studying healing herbs. Teaching myself rune magic. Everything I did to prove my worth was never enough.

Because they needed me to fail.

"I only wanted the pendant. The money, the spot—I don't care. Just the pendant. But if even that's too much, keep it all."

"But one day," I said quietly, "you'll all pay for what you've done."

Isabella's face turned purple. "How dare you! Even if you came crawling back, Shadowveil Pack wouldn't want a cursed burden like you!"

Vanessa stepped close, her lips near my ear. "Oh, I forgot to tell you. Nicholas confessed to me last week. We're announcing our engagement next month. I know you've crushed on him since we were fourteen, but he chose me. Not an un-awakened failure who can't even shift."