I felt a Funeral, in my Brain, And Mourners to and fro Kept treading, treading, till it seemed
That Sense was breaking through....
—Emily Dickinson
🌓
Selene awoke with a piercing headache. The first thing she saw was the grand chandelier above her, its crystals swaying faintly as if mocking her disarray. She blinked, eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through the heavy curtains, and tried to rise. Her limbs felt stiff, uncooperative. Then the chill of the air struck her.
She was on the floor. Naked.
A sharp gasp escaped her lips as she scrambled upright, her heart thundering in her chest. She looked around in confusion, searching for her gown, for anything that could cover her shame, but the chamber offered nothing. Not a single piece of clothing in sight.
That was when she smelled it, something burnt. Faint, like charred wood and ash. Her nostrils flared as she sniffed again, trying to make sense of it.
Then her eyes found the mirror.
She froze.
Cautiously, as if afraid of what she might see, she stepped toward it. Her reflection stared back, pale and bare, but no longer glowing. Her eyes, once turned violent violet in a storm of fire, had returned to their natural grey. She raised her hands, examining them closely. Normal. Smooth. No claws, no light, no heat pulsing beneath her skin.
Had it been a dream?
But it hadn't felt like one. No vision, no madness could conjure that depth of pain, or that terrifying sense of power pressing from within her ribs. She pulled at the laces of a dressing robe and slipped it around her shoulders. Then she tugged the collar down and checked her chest. No light. No golden vines. Her heart beat, steady and quiet. Was it grief? Betrayal? Had her mind conjured visions in the face of Ronan's treachery?
Ronan.
The name alone made her hands clench. The memory of Maya's fingers on his chest returned in a flash of fire, and Selene gritted her teeth. She had no time to waste. She needed to see Gregor Cormac. He deserved to know what his son had done behind closed doors, what disgrace he had allowed to bloom like rot beneath their roof.
She moved to her dresser and began to dress with practiced efficiency, though her movements trembled. When she was finally clothed, she checked herself in the mirror once more. Her reflection gave nothing away. The storm that had raged in her blood hours ago was gone. All appeared as it should be. And yet... something gnawed at her. A weight that had not been there before. As she turned to leave, her eyes caught something strange near the edge of the chamber. Her steps faltered.
The rug.
It was burned.
Not completely, but enough to be noticed. Her breath caught as she walked closer. The scorch marks traced a distinct shape across the surface. She knelt, her fingers brushing against the ruined threads. The outline matched her form exactly, the shape of her body as it had lain on the floor. Even the wild curve of her hair had left its mark, blackened into the rug like a portrait in ash.
Selene's stomach twisted.
The gown she had worn earlier... where was it?
Her gaze swept the room again and settled on the far corner. Charred scraps of fabric lay there, barely recognisable, their edges blackened and curled. It had burned off her.
Her heart skipped.
Could the heat from within her body have been so fierce? Had she truly ignited? She touched her cheek. Her skin felt cool now. Ordinary. Nothing about her seemed out of place, yet the evidence could not be denied. Something had happened. Something beyond her understanding. And the worst part was that she remembered nothing after collapsing. Only the pain. The fire. The light.
She rose slowly, her mind reeling. Perhaps she needed to see the physician. Perhaps this was some hidden illness. A fever of the mind. A curse. Anything.
Then she remembered.
Maya.
Maya, daughter of the physician.
Selene's hands dropped to her sides as realization struck. They had all known. All of them. Laughing behind closed doors while she paraded as their Luna. While she gave her loyalty, her name, her very body to this pack, they had pitied her. Mocked her. Deceived her.
How blind she had been.
She had bled for this pack. She had buried her father with her own hands, had stood at the head of his pyre with her jaw clenched and her tears swallowed. She had married a man she did not love then for them. For duty. For peace. And now, this.
This was her reward.
She stormed from her chamber, barely noticing the chill of night. The courtyard was not empty. The hour was late, but torches flickered and voices murmured in clusters. When the people looked her way, she finally understood their glances.
It was not respect. Not devotion.
It was pity.
They had known. They had watched her walk with her head high, blind to the truth, and said nothing. A mockery played in every bowed head, every polite smile. Her feet slowed. Her eyes scanned their faces. She saw no loyalty in them. No bond of blood or tribe. Only distance. Only silence.
They were not hers.
She had always believed she led them.
But the truth was harsher. She belonged to them. She was the sacrificial lamb dressed in gold. Tears welled in her eyes and spilled over. This time, she did not stop them. She could not. She turned and began to run, her legs moving of their own accord, the sting of betrayal fueling her every step. There was only one place left where she might still find warmth.
Her mother.
The small house stood at the edge of the garden slope, hidden by tall hedges and forgotten stone walls. She didn't knock. She couldn't. Her hand trembled too much to form a fist.
She burst inside, breathless, broken.
"Mother!" she called, her voice cracking with hope, with fear.
She stepped inside.
And what she saw stole the breath from her lungs.
She couldn't move.
Couldn't speak.
Her body went still, as if turned to stone.
All she could do was stare.
What do you think Selene saw in that room? Drop your theories below
and be warned,
the next chapter holds secrets no heart is ready to face. 🌓