Scarred Luna
Author
Ahanaa Rose
Reads
3.9M
Chapters
45
No seventeen-year-old expects to find their mate, but Kara Knight's journey took an unexpected turn when she discovered hers. And to her surprise, it was none other than Zane Morgan, one of the most powerful alphas in the world. The twist? Kara was considered damaged goods in her pack, facing judgment and exclusion after her parent's death. As their connection deepens, they soon realize that their families hold dark secrets that threaten to tear them apart. Will Kara and Zain be able to unravel the mysteries of their past and find a way to forge a future together? Join them on an adventure filled with love, loyalty, and the quest for truth.
Prologue
UNKNOWN
BOOK 1: Scarred Luna
LYCOA, GREECE - 373 BC
As I lie on the hard marble floor of my home, the echoes of destruction reverberate through the air.
The sight of my once beautiful city, now engulfed in flames and crumbling before my eyes, is absolutely heart-wrenching. The pain and despair are palpable as I gaze upon the aftermath of the battle.
My sword, a loyal companion throughout the fight, lies beside me, a symbol of the courage and strength I summoned.
But despite the countless lycans I cut down, it is too late. The damage has been done, and my city, my home, has been reduced to ashes.
“Lytus,” I whisper, my voice barely audible amid the chaos and destruction.
My mentor and friend appears before me, and I watch him take in the devastating scene.
Once he’s registered the horror, he walks toward me, his steps deliberate and measured, until he comes to kneel down beside me, meeting my gaze at eye level.
The word I utter is filled with exhaustion, sorrow, and longing: “Selene.”
I keep my gaze fixed on Lytus, the man who has been with me through thick and thin, unwavering in his loyalty and guidance.
And yet, it is in this profound moment, as flames consume our city, that he shakes his head, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and determination.
Something feels different, I realize, and doubts swirl within me as I question his actions and intentions. “You knew.”
He does not say a word, but his silence says it all.
I give a small laugh and look away from him. “She knew.”
My friend whispers, “By the time I found out, it was too late. The deed was done.”
I close my eyes gently as I allow myself to be consumed by the searing pain from deep within my being.
In the darkness, behind my eyelids, memories of my beautiful mate and our precious daughters play out before me.
Their radiant smiles, bursting with love and joy, would illuminate my world every time I returned home.
I can still taste the delicious meals my mate prepared tirelessly, pouring her heart and soul into each dish.
To think that, after centuries of solitude, I would be blessed with such a breathtaking gift, only for it to be mercilessly snatched away before my very eyes.
And by whom? My blood, my own son, turned into a monster that will forever haunt the corridors of my heart.
The devastating truth of their brutal demise lingers like a gaping wound, a ghostly specter that refuses to fade.
Every detail of that dreadful night replays in my mind’s eye relentlessly: the piercing screams, the scent of blood mingling with the acrid stench of betrayal.
It feels as though the walls of my world have crumbled and are crashing down in a crescendo of despair.
The weight of grief settles like an everlasting burden upon my chest as I grapple with the unimaginable tragedy that has forever altered the course of my existence.
Through the ache and the anguish, I try to grasp happier memories: the moments we shared, the love that flowed between us like an eternal flame.
They may be gone physically, but their spirits reside deep within me, and I have no doubt they will guide me through the dark nights to come.
The pain is raw and relentless, but I find solace in the thought that their light will forever shine, no matter how black the world becomes.
“What am I to do, Lytus? My home has been destroyed, my family taken away from me, and my son is gone with more than half of our people set on destroying the humans.”
Lytus stands and turns toward me with a determined look on his face. “The destruction of your city is not the end; your people live.
“Your family may have been taken from you in this lifetime, but there will be many other lifetimes in which they can come back to you.”
Lytus sticks his hand out. “But give up now, and you will never see your people or your family again.”
I wear my confusion and curiosity in my gaze as I meet Lytus’s eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“The fates enjoy playing their games, especially with those who they believe have slighted them.
“You may have lost everything on this day, but you will regain everything taken from you. I promise you this.” He takes a step closer to me. “Now, get up and fight.”
I gaze at his outstretched hand, my mind swirling with conflicting emotions.
Should I grasp it, allowing him to guide me through this torment, or should I succumb to the pain that threatens to engulf me?
Deep within my heart, I already know the answer. Despite the odds stacked against me, I must summon the strength to keep fighting, even if victory seems impossible.
With a firm grip, I clutch onto my friend’s hand, feeling the surge of strength as he lifts me up effortlessly. As I rise, I reach for my sword, using it as a makeshift support to steady myself.
Lytus places his hand on my shoulder, and a radiant glow emanates from his touch. The luminous energy begins to envelop my body, spreading warmth and healing throughout every fiber of my being.
In an instant, the excruciating pain and the life-threatening wounds vanish and are replaced by a renewed sense of strength and vitality.
I pause for a moment, taking in the somber scene. The once lively and joyful hall is now a haunting reminder of the despair and dread that has befallen us.
Memories of laughter and feasts come to me, a stark contrast to the lifeless bodies that now lie before me.
But then, amid the stillness, movement catches my eye. Without thinking, my hand rises, and I find myself gripping the throat of a man suspended in the air.
Anger and pain surge through me, fueling my strength as I squeeze. I am consumed by a mix of emotions I cannot fully identify. “I missed one.”
The man starts clawing at my hand. “Nyctimus! Please.”
I close my eyes and look into the mind of this depraved being.
I can sense the weight of those memories, the pain, and the anger. It’s hard to put into words how it felt when those traitors barged into my home, catching my mate and daughters off guard.
We fought with all our might, taking down enemy after enemy, but it was an impossible battle. The sheer number of them overwhelmed us.
I recall watching my mate, standing tall and fearless, prepared to sacrifice everything, only to be subjected to unspeakable torture and rape in front of our daughters.
The same fate befell each of them, one by one.
I open my eyes, locking my gaze on the man before me. Fear dances in his eyes, a reflection of the imminent danger.
In a moment of raw intensity, I tighten my grip around his throat, feeling the power coursing through my veins.
Then I release my hold and, with a swift and decisive movement, I swing my sword and cut the man in half. Two distinct pieces fall to the ground, and blood flows out of his upper and lower halves.
I lift my sword and clean the blood off with my sleeve. “What’s next?”
“Selene and Axiom were able to get those loyal to you to safety,” Lytus says from behind me. “Only I know their location, and they have been instructed to keep moving until told otherwise.”
“Axiom?”
“Dead.” There is finality in his voice.
He grants me the mercy of a small moment to myself, then walks up to stand beside me.
“Periphetes believes you are dead. Use that. Bide your time until you are strong again. Until your people are strong again.”
I turn to my mentor, my friend, letting him see the pain and anguish in my frown. “Then what? I have lost everything. My mate, my daughters, my home. I will never get back what I once had.”
Lytus places his hand on my shoulders, his voice filled with wisdom and compassion.
“We are mere threads in the vast tapestry of life, and as individuals entrusted with strength, it is our duty to protect the vulnerable, even if it means sacrificing those closest to us.
“But fear not, for the fates are not unjust. What has been taken from you will be returned, one way or another.”
The words echo in my mind, their resonance growing stronger with each repetition.
“What has been taken will be returned,” I murmur softly as if trying to weave them into the very fabric of my being. “I will avenge this loss, even if it takes a thousand lifetimes.”
