ISKERA
"They're waiting, Iskera."
I don't turn. I don't have to… not really.
The scent of jasmine and expensive soaps already fills my cramped, dusty sanctuary, clashing violently with the smell of old paper and the damp chill that lives in the corners of the Alpha's roof.
The combo makes me nauseous, makes me want to tell my stepsister off, but I wisely keep shut. Seren is a demon when annoyed.
"I'm not going," I say. My voice is raspy, thin from days of silence. Because no one talks to me, not even the maids that bring my food up here. Except Seren.
I expected this miserable existence to have ended two days ago when I turned eighteen. I expected the Goddess's mercy, since I've survived till now…
But nothing happened. My remaining hope of being something different from cursed, was denied.
Maybe that's why I'm moodier than usual. I'm often happy when Seren visits; I actually long for her presence and gist about the happenings in the pack.
"Father said it would look strange if you weren't there," Seren continues. "It's the Mating Gathering. Every eligible wolf has to be present. Even... you."
I finally look at her. My stepsister is a vision in shimmering silver silk that must have cost more than every meal I've eaten this year combined.
She is seventeen, a year younger than me, but in this pack, she is the sun, and I am the eclipse.
Her eyes are wide and full of a concern that I think now is counterfeit, one that makes my stomach churn. She's been 'insistent' for more than thirty minutes.
"I don't have a wolf, Seren. We both know that. I was born under a Black Moon. I'm a mistake. A mate-bond requires two souls, and the pack says I don't even have one."
"You don't know that for sure," she whispers, moving closer. She reaches out as if to touch my shoulder, but her hand stops an inch short. Even she won't risk the skin-to-skin contact.
"What if tonight is the night? What if a mate is the only thing that can fix you? If you find him, Father might actually look at you again. You could leave this attic. You could be one of us again."
The words are a cruel hook, and I am a starving fish.
To be looked at… To be touched…
I look at the dress she laid out on my cot——the first thing she did when she came in——a simple, charcoal-grey thing I've mended a dozen times… the color of ash.
"Fine," I whisper, hating the hope that started in my blood again. "If Father wants me there, I will be."
"Good," Seren beams, but there's a flash of something in her eyes——a predatory glint that I'm too desperate to interpret.
"Hurry. The moon is almost at its peak."
———
The Mating Grounds is a large expanse of land nestled in the famed Darkol forest, lit by massive bonfires that send sparks dancing toward the stars.
As I follow Seren into the clearing, I notice that the air is thick with the scent of pine, sweat, and a certain hum which must be the Moon Goddess's power.
This is my first time here. And just as I expected, the atmosphere shifts at my entry.
It starts with a stutter in conversation. Then, a widening circle. My pack members stiffen, drawing back from me like I was poison. They look at Seren, and I'm sure they think her foolish for bringing me here.
I watch the hands of warriors instinctively move to their belts. They are not afraid though. No. They look at me with the disgust one reserves for a maggot in a bowl of fruit.
I've seen enough, I muse, keeping my head down, while my pulse hammered away against my ribs.
"Stay here," Seren says, slipping away toward the high-ranking families, leaving me standing in the middle of the field, the object of unwanted attention.
Then, I feel it.
A sudden heat blooms in the center of my chest, radiating outward until my fingertips ache. Could it be…?
My breath hitches. For the first time in eighteen years, I feel... full.
I look up, my eyes searching the crowd, pulled by an invisible golden thread. My gaze lands on him in mere seconds.
Rian. The Beta's son.
Seren has given me enough descriptions, during her many talks, to last a lifetime.
But he's better in reality.
He's standing by the largest fire in the midst of friends, his golden hair glowing, his laughter ringing out above the music.
He's beautiful, strong, and——at the exact moment I look at him-—he freezes.
He turns. His eyes find mine, and for one heartbeat, the world is silent. The thread snaps taut. Mate.
The word echoes in the hollow spaces of my mind, loud enough to make me dizzy. I have a mate?
Hope swallows me whole, and my eyes start to tear up. I have a mate! Thank you, goddess of moons!
I take a step forward. Then another. The crowd parts even more, somehow sensing the gravity of the moment.
"Rian?" I whisper as I reach him. My heart is a drum, beating out a rhythm of salvation. I'm not a curse anymore. I have a mate!!!
Rian looks at me. He looks at my ash-grey dress, my hollow cheeks, the black-moon mark almost hidden beneath my collarbone. The warmth in his eyes doesn't just fade—it turns to ice.
"No," he says.
The word is a scalpel.
"Rian, I… I felt it," I stammer, reaching out, my hand trembling. "The bond, it's—"
"I said no!" Rian bellows, recoiling as if I'm a leper.
"I, Rian of Highvale Pack, reject you, Iskera, as my mate."
The rejection hits me like a physical blow, sending waves of agony through my veins. "No!!!"
Rain speaks on however, not caring that the pain drives me to my knees. "I will not be tethered to a freak. I will not have my lineage stained by a curse. Gods forbid!"
He is in pain too. I know because his voice is streaked with it.
But my own pain doesn't stay inside me…
Above us, the full moon——once brilliant and pale—-is suddenly swallowed. It's as if an inkwell has been overturned across the sky.
Thick darkness falls over the clearing. The bonfires hiss and die, reduced to smoking embers in seconds.
What is happening? I look up, pushing aside the haze of pain.
CRACK.
A bolt of violet lightning tears through the black sky, striking the ancient oak at the center of the grounds, two feet away from me.
The scream of fear that leaves my throat is primal.
"She's doing it!" a voice screams through the dark. "The curse! She's attacking the gathering!"
"Iskera!"
Somehow I see my father when he shouts my name.
Alpha Reagan stands on the dais, his arm around his second wife. He doesn't move to help me. He looks down at me with a cold hatred that is worse than any lightning strike.
"What are you doing here!"
Didn't Seren say…?
I turn to Seren who is standing beside my father. Her face is pale, but her lips... her lips are curved into a tiny, satisfied smile.
I laugh at myself, before I can help it. I laugh more when murmurs scatter across the crowd. They truly believe I caused the darkness.
Yet how can I?
"Priest!" my father's voice booms. "Deal with this!"
The High Priest steps forward, his ceremonial robes billowing in the sudden, freezing wind. "The Goddess has spoken!" he cries. "She is a blight upon our face! Throw her out! Purge the grounds!"
Guards move in. They are wearing black thick gloves. Still, they don't touch my skin. One grabs my black hair and forcefully pulls me in the direction of the exit.
The pain sends me to the ground again, causes me to cry out, dark humor fading. "I didn't do anything!" I sob, the agony of the rejection still tearing my soul apart. "Please! Father!"
My father turns his back on me.
The guards drag me across the dirt, their noses wrinkled in disgust. And when they reach the iron gates of the mansion, they fling me forward.
I hit the ground hard, the taste of copper filling my mouth.
"Stay in your hole, curse," one of the guards spits, wiping his gloved hands on his trousers.
The gates slam shut.
I don't know how I make it back to the attic. I crawl more than I walk, my grey dress ruined, my knees shredded.
When I finally reach my room, I collapse onto the floor. The darkness here is familiar, but the silence is new. Because now, any hope of a life is truly gone.
I curl into a ball, my forehead pressed against the cold wood. A sob breaks out of me——an ugly wail that rips at my throat.
"I hate you!" I scream into the floorboards. "I hate all of you! I hate the Goddess! I hate this blood!"
I slam my fist against the floor, again and again, until my knuckles bleed, until my strength is finished.