I heard him sigh and stand up.
"Be back at the estate within the next hour. There are preparations to be made," he said, his voice even yet distant. Then I heard the rustle of leaves, his scent fading into the night.
Just like that, he was gone.
I inhaled deeply, drawing in the lingering traces of the forest's scent. I etched it into my mind, knowing this might be the last good memory I would have. The last time someone spoke to me like I mattered, even if only for a moment, even if it was to serve their own purpose.
A few minutes passed before I finally forced myself to stand, using the tree beside me for support. My body felt heavier than before, as if the weight of what had happened, what had been decided, was pressing down on me with every step.
Still, I walked.
The familiar dirt path beneath my bare feet guided me back to the pack house. The wind carried the sounds of the festival still in full swing—the crackling of bonfires, the occasional bursts of laughter. But as soon as I stepped onto the main pack grounds, the atmosphere changed.
I kept my head down, as always.
But I still heard them.
The whispers.
The laughter.
The pity.
"She isn't going to return, is she?"
"I heard the Cursed Lycan eats wolves."
"Maybe she deserves it... what else is a cursed thing like her good for?"
I kept walking, keeping my steps steady, my face blank as always.
The Cursed Lycan.
Every wolf on Xaenus had heard the stories. Even someone like me—someone who was never meant to be part of this world.
I remembered those childhood nights, hiding behind trees, eavesdropping as the Luna read stories to the younger pups. Tales of the monster sleeping in the crypt to the South, of the beast who had once ruled this land in war and bloodshed.
They said he was the most powerful Lycan to ever walk Xaenus, the Cursed King of wolves.
And they also said that to keep him asleep, to prevent war from rising again, a sacrifice had to be made.
Every century.
A virgin Omega, chosen from a pack unlucky enough to be near his resting place.
He would awaken, mark the Omega, drain them of their spirit, and then leave them for dead.
Then he would return to his slumber, the cycle continuing.
So that everyone else could live.
I felt my lips curve into something that might have been a bitter smile.
At least I would have a mate when I died.
Maybe... it wouldn't be too bad.
Even if he was known to be a beast, even if they called him ugly, monstrous, cursed...
It wasn't like I would ever see him.
"Mumei!"
A sharp voice cut through the air, snapping me from my thoughts.
I flinched, my muscles instinctively tensing before I quickly bowed toward the voice.
"Yes, Luna," I said softly.
Luna Lyra. The pack's Luna.
Alpha Theo's mate.
"Where have you been all night?!" she snapped, her voice sharp and unforgiving. "Who was going to clean up all the dishes? You know the servants are on leave today for the holiday!"
I kept my head down.
"I'm sorry, Luna," I murmured. "I fell asleep in the forest last night. I'll get to it immediately."
Before I could take a step, another voice—smooth, saccharine, cruel—interrupted.
"Oh, mother," the voice cooed. "Why don't we let her off? After all... it's her last day here."
My body froze.
I knew that voice.
And I knew that scent.
Elira.
And she smelled like Lucian.
I swallowed hard, my lips trembling despite myself.
Of course, she did.
They had marked each other yesterday. It was only natural that they had already mated. And she had already started calling Luna Lyra mother—as if she were already Lucian's wife.
It was normal. Expected. I had no right to feel anything about it. I forced myself to stand still, to ignore the sharp pain in my chest.
What's done is done, I reminded myself. They had already done so much for me. I had no right to complain.
Luna Lyra's aura softened immediately.
"Oh, you two are up?" she gushed, her voice changing in an instant. "That's wonderful! I'll have breakfast ready soon. I'm making soufflé pancakes myself."
"Really?" Elira giggled. "That's lovely! Thank you so much." I heard her footsteps retreating, light and delicate, like she hadn't just torn out the last piece of my heart.
Luna Lyra turned back to me.
"You." I straightened automatically.
"Go take a shower. You're filthy," she said coolly. "I have sent over a dress... Not that it matters…" She paused, "Anyways, you don't have much time left. Make yourself presentable."
I nodded. Grateful, at least, to be dismissed. The steps creaked beneath my weight as I slowly made my way up to my small, windowless room. I felt around the bed, my fingers brushing against the fabric of the dress left for me. My breath hitched.
It felt... luxurious. Unlike anything I had ever touched, much less worn.
Smooth satin…that's what it's called right? With delicate embroidery, beaded flowers along what I assumed to be the bodice. For a moment, I simply traced the fabric, feeling its softness beneath my fingertips. Then I shook myself. It didn't matter.
I stepped into the bathroom, shivering as I turned the cold water over my skin. I scrubbed quickly, washing away the dirt, the sweat, the last remnants of the past night. By the time I stepped out, my fingers were numb. I touched the back of my head, finding the string of my blindfold and pulling it.
I felt the wet thing fall down my face. My world was still completely dark. My eyes shut tight.
These were the moments I felt most afraid. Afraid of accidentally opening my eyes and disobeying the Alpha and Luna. So I quickly took out another one from the drawer and tied it around my eyes with practiced ease.
I felt for the dress again, sliding my fingers down the side zipper and carefully stepping into it, one foot at a time.
It took me ten frustrating minutes of fumbling before I realized—it was an off-the-shoulder dress with puffy sleeves. I sighed, pressing my lips together. It was long, flowing past my ankles. A gown.
For the hundredth time in my life, I wished I could see myself in the mirror. I remembered—vaguely, faintly—that when I was a child, around four I think, I could see light.
Shapes. Colors. Blurry figures.
Then, one day...
Darkness.
The Luna had called my eyes cursed. And even then, the Alpha had been gracious enough to let me stay—so long as I never removed my blindfold. Not that I wanted to.
Not that I wanted to see my own disgusting reflection.
I exhaled sharply, shaking away the thought. I reached behind me, fumbling for the zipper—
Then gasped. Cold fingers traced the bare skin of my spine.
"Who's there?!" I whispered, my body locking up. A familiar voice—low, tired, regretful—spoke behind me.
"Relax... it's me." My breath hitched. How long had he been here? I hadn't even heard anyone come in.
Lucian.
The fingers left my spine, but not before slowly, agonizingly slowly, pulling the zipper up. I swallowed against the lump in my throat, my chest aching in a way I hated.
Hadn't I cried enough? That was enough mourning. I…truly…shouldn't be more greedy.
I forced words out to distract myself from crying.
"What color is it?" My voice was barely above a whisper. "The dress... what color is it?"
Lucian hesitated. Then, softly—
"Red... It looks beautiful on you."
A strange, twisting pain curled in my stomach at the way he said it. I didn't even remember what the color red looked like.
"You… really shouldn't be here," I murmured, stepping away the moment he was finished. Lucian sighed.
"I know... I'm sorry."
My heart pounded.
"For... what?"
"I couldn't change my father's mind about sending you there."
"Oh." My heart sank. So that's what he was sorry for.
Not for betraying me. Not for marking someone else. Not for making a joke out of me.
Just for this. I shook my head.
"It's okay," I whispered. "You should go. Your mate is probably looking for you."
A loud bang sounded outside. Then—
"LUCIAN?! Are you in here?!"
I stiffened as I heard the shrill voice.
Luna Lyra.