The Shadow Beneath The Skin
At first, it was subtle.
Ella stood at the training grounds, sparring with two warriors. Her movements were sharp, her strikes clean. But suddenly—her balance faltered. A misstep. A hesitation. The blade in her hand clanged against the ground.
Damian was at her side in seconds. “Ella?”
“I’m fine,” she said, waving him off with a weak smile. “Just… dizzy.”
But she wasn’t. Something felt off. The ground felt too soft. The wind too loud. The colors around her were too sharp—almost like the world had turned sideways.
That night, the whispers began.
Not voices… not exactly. But a slithering sound in her mind, like something brushing against the edges of her thoughts.
You don’t belong here.
She sat up in bed, breathing heavily, her silver hair damp with sweat. “Who said that?”
The room was silent. Empty. But beneath her pillow, the cursed magic pulsed faintly, unseen and deadly.
\---
Day Three
Ella tried to laugh it off during breakfast, but her appetite was gone. The food felt strange in her mouth—bitter, almost metallic. She pushed it aside.
Damian noticed. “Still not feeling well?”
“I’m just tired,” she said, forcing a smile. “That’s all.”
But as she left the dining hall, her vision blurred. The walls narrowed. The whispers returned.
They don’t trust you.
She spun around, looking for someone—anyone—but there was no one nearby.
\---
Day Five
The doubt began to settle into her bones.
She stood in front of a mirror, her silver eyes bloodshot, her skin pale. Her reflection seemed to move when she didn’t. The voice was stronger now, seeping into her mind like poison.
They only respect you because of him. You’re nothing without Damian.
“No,” she whispered. “No, that’s not true.”
But the voice laughed—low, cruel, familiar.
You’re still the broken slave girl. You always will be.
\---
That Night
Ella stumbled into the hallway, clutching the wall for balance. Her power flickered, unstable, sparking wildly beneath her skin.
She barely made it to the edge of the courtyard before collapsing to her knees.
“I—something’s wrong,” she whispered to the night air. “Something’s inside me…”
The moon watched from above, silent. And somewhere, deep in the earth, where that cursed magic had once been buried, shadows twisted with delight.
\---
The Quiet Before the Fall
Damian stood by the doorway, his arms crossed, watching Ella as she adjusted the straps on her training gear. Her movements were slower—less sure—and a sheen of sweat clung to her brow though the morning air was still cool.
“You’re pale again,” he said, stepping forward. “Ella, something’s wrong. You haven’t been yourself lately.”
Ella looked up quickly, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m fine, Damian. Just a little tired. You worry too much.”
He frowned, searching her face. “You’ve skipped meals. You’re shaking. I hear you walking the halls at night.”
Ella touched his arm gently. “I promise, I’m okay. I don’t want you worrying when you’re needed elsewhere.”
Damian hesitated, but her touch—her voice—reassured him just enough. With a final kiss to her forehead, he nodded. “I’ll only be gone three days. If you feel worse—tell Mira or one of the healers.”
“I will,” she lied.
And with that, Damian mounted his horse and rode toward the neighboring allied pack, unaware that he was leaving his mate in a slow-brewing storm.
\---
Day One
Mira, quiet and pale-faced, entered Ella’s chamber with the evening tray—soup, bread, and tea. Her fingers trembled as she slipped a single drop of the black poison into the cup. The vial was almost empty now.
She placed the tray by the bed. “Luna, your dinner…”
Ella sat by the window, her hands wrapped tightly around her arms. Her voice was faint. “Thank you, Mira.”
Guilt twisted in the maid’s gut, but the image of her brother—beaten or killed in the Gamma’s household—kept her silent.
\---
Day Two
Ella could barely stand.
She collapsed twice—once in the hallway, once in the training yard. Her vision swam with shadows. Her hands trembled too much to hold a spoon. And the whispers… they never stopped.
He left you because he’s tired of you.
Your strength was an illusion.
You are not a Luna. You are a curse.
Ella screamed at the empty air, only to be found moments later curled on the floor, breathing hard, her wolf silent and unreachable.
Mira helped her into bed with shaking hands.
\---
Day Three
The final drop of poison was added to Ella’s tea.
That night, she didn’t eat much. Her skin burned with fever. Her veins felt like fire beneath her flesh. Her head pounded with pressure. When she tried to walk, her legs gave out.
She collapsed beside her bed, her body convulsing slightly as her eyes rolled back.
Mira screamed, dropping the tray, the dishes shattering across the floor.