His Cursed Luna

1. Rejection

|| Penelope ||

The cold, bitter wall folded into my shoulders, its icy touch a malevolent reminder of what now stood before me. I knelt onto the ground, my knees no longer supporting me, my body convulsed in trembling spasms. The silver-strung chains wrapped around my wrists pulsed burning hot with pain, searing my flesh as if forged in the center of hell. Every connection was a brand, labeling me as a traitor, a criminal, a monster. But I was none of those things. I was just. me. Penelope. The forgotten princess. The woman who had given up everything for a kingdom that now wanted me dead.

"Accept my rejection," Elijah's voice boomed, his giant body towering over me like a predator stalking his prey. His presence, once a comforting warmth, now was a suffocating weight, pressing down on me until I could barely get air. I attempted to protest, to beg, to plead, but my voice was nothing more than a shattered whisper, dissolving into the vacuum of his indifference.

"Please. no." I panted, my throat dry with unshed tears.

"I'm pregnant with your child," I pleaded. But he didn't care. He never had.

My eyes wandered over the high hall, the palace I was raised in. The golden pennants, the twinkling candles, the perfumed flowers—all seemed to mock me now. This was my kingdom, my inheritance, the very heart of all that I had fought for. My father, the Lycan king, had ruled this kingdom with dignity and strength. But when he mysteriously passed away, everything was different. William, born of a concubine, had taken the throne, and I had been cast aside, forgotten. Until they required me. Until the kingdom teetered on the brink of war, and I had come to rescue them. And now, this was my payback. Betrayal. Rejection. Death.

The crowd's critical gaze cut into me, their looks heavy with suspicion and disdain. I had given them everything—my power, my loyalty, my love, and they just stood there and watched while Elijah destroyed me, like a criminal. The pain in my chest was a searing anguish that was going to consume me completely.

And then, she appeared. Isabella. My cousin. The woman I had grown up with, the one whom I had trusted more than any other human. She moved towards Elijah with the slow, intent ease of someone walking through ice, her step echoing with the crash of my world shattering. She reached his side and paused, standing forth in stark, unflinching boldness, as if she already had what had never been rightfully hers.

And then, she smiled.

A victorious, hard smile spread across her face, her eyes glinting with self-satisfaction.

And suddenly, everything clicked.

A storm of revelation swept over me. Blinded by its force, I reeled under the blow, shattered by a power more relentless than any bullet or knife. They had been working together all along. All the stolen glances, all the hissed phrases I had dismissed as nothing, every gut instinct I had ignored—it had all been leading up to this.

How could I have been so dumb?

My entire body trembled with the vastness of my own stupidity. These were the same people I had trusted, the same people I had defended, loved, and sacrificed for. And now, they had plotted against me in secret, conspired against me, stolen everything from me that was important.

My mind went racing with each of my downed friends' warnings I had ignored. Bridget's words kept flashing before my mind: urgent, laced with terror. "Penelope, you have to look at what really is. They are not whom you assume them to be." But I was deaf and dumb. I refused to suspect the ones that I loved betrayed me this hard.

And now, here I was standing in the ruins of everything that I had built, looking at the smug, self-satisfied look on Isabella's face, I realized the extent of my mistake.

"I accept your rejection," I whispered, my breath trapped in my throat as my heart thudded against it. The words tasted like ash on my lips, bitter and hollow. But what was I to do? Elijah had made up his mind. He had chosen power over love, ambition over passion. And I… I was merely a pawn in his game, a piece to be discarded when I was no longer useful.

"DO IT RIGHT," Elijah snarled, his tone commanding and icy. His aura doubled, pushing against me until I felt I would be crushed. But I did not retreat. I could not. Today.

With tears streaming down my cheeks, I shut my eyes and recited the words that would seal my fate. "I, Penelope Adalbert, accept your rejection."

The moment I had spoken, I felt something inside of me c***k. A tie, a link, a string that had bound me to Elijah, snapped, and I felt empty and solitary. The pain was exquisite, an agony that scorched my soul, leaving me bare and exposed.

"That's better," Elijah said curtly, his face devoid of emotion. He turned his back to me, addressing me as a stranger, and I felt my legs melt beneath me. I collapsed onto the ground, my body convulsing with the force of my grief.

The cold air wrapped around me like a cruel cloak, seeping into my bones, stealing the last remnants of heat from my shuddering body. My heart, which had before been so full of hope and love, now broke in my chest, every fractured fragment tearing me apart from the inside out. The agony was unbearable, a relentless ache that ran through my veins like venom. It was like spectral blades tearing at my very essence, scoring deep, merciless gashes with every beat.

I curled myself into a ball, arms wrapped around my knees, as if I could shield myself from the pain. But there was no shelter. No solace. Only the harsh, unblinking truth of my lie.

And then Elijah spoke once more, his voice cold and cruel. "Now we decide your punishment."

My breath froze in my throat and I felt a shiver run down my spine with the words. I knew this. I'd always known this. But there was something terrible about hearing those words said and made it appallingly real.

"As I know, there is only one punishment for deceiving the royalty with black magic," Elijah continued, his voice echoing throughout the hall. "Death."

The words hung in the air, with crushing weight, finality. I felt my body go numb, my mind unable to keep up with the weight of what was happening. This was it. The end. The moment that I had feared, the moment that I had struggled so desperately to avoid.

"I, Elijah Benson, hereby decree to have Penelope Adalbert executed in order to protect the Goldenrealm," Elijah declared, his voice cold and unforgiving. He used my maiden name, a final insult, a final reminder that I was no longer his. That I was nothing.

With his words of condemnation, two warriors emerged from the shadows, their footsteps swift and deliberate, as if they had been waiting for this very moment. I scarcely had time to react before icy, thick chains wrapped around my wrists, tugging on me with savage strength. The metal bit into my skin, searing my flesh as though it had been heat-forged. Silver. The chains were made of silver. A sadistic protection reserved for one kind—traitors.

A gasp escaped between my lips as I was dragged toward the middle of the hallway, kneecaps grinding against the hard marble floor. The large room, a haven once, now served as the execution site of a damned mind. The audience stood still, their faces unforgiving, their eyes filled with the same unyielding cold that rested in Elijah's soul.

I should have been wiser.

I ought to have known that there would be no mercy.

A third warrior appeared, the light of the torches reflecting off the wicked blade in his hand. The sword was unfamiliar to me—its silver metal etched with old symbols, pulsing with a wicked power. I didn't have to ask to know what it was. A wicked blade, forged to s***h deeper than flesh—to s***h the very soul.

And so it would all come to an end.

Betrayed. Shackled. Executed like some commoner in the very realm I had fought to protect.

My own air came in short, pained breaths as I lifted my gaze, my blurry vision scanning the room for a last time. And then I caught sight of him. Old Gerald. His wrinkled face was masked in sorrow. His lips clamped in silent protest, he did not take a step forward. He couldn't. I saw it in his eyes—the sadness, the despair. He understood, as I did. The old order had long since broken down. The balance had been lost. Even the ancients were not above the new order.

Were they all murdered, too? I wondered!

Was it Elijah's doing? How much was he involved?

The warrior balled his hand into a fist on the sword, tension so thick in the air that it could strangle. Judgment hung upon me, like a weight of a kingdom, heavy and immoveable.

No one said a word.

No one stirred.

The silence was crushing.

I clenched my fists, nails biting into the palms of my hands as I prepared for what was to come. There was no way out. There was no justice. Only the sadistic fate I had been sentenced to.

Slowly, I shut my eyes.

The clang of steel slicing through the air was the only warning I had before agony burst through my chest.

The knife pierced my heart, and the agony was instant. A strangulated scream ripped itself from my mouth as my body convulsed, my breathing stuck in my chest as the burning spread like flames.

Then there was the second wave of agony.

The silver.

My skin crackled where the blade made contact with it, a searing pain unlike anything I had ever felt before. But it wasn't the silver—it was something else. A poison injected into the metal, a slow-acting poison coursing through my veins, tearing me apart from the inside out.

A harsh cough shook my body, and the metallic taste of blood spilled over my lips. I gasped, crimson drops seeping past my lips, staining the front of my gown like a final inscription of my suffering.

My vision cleared, the faces around me becoming shapeless masses. My body was a weight, my strength dwindling with every struggling beat.

Then I sensed him. He was beside me. Even in the fog of pain and betrayal, I knew it was him.

Elijah.

The man I loved. The mate who had vowed to cherish me. The king who had condemned me to death.

"Why?" I moaned, despite the pain.

"Now that you're going to die, I guess you need to know the truth, my dear Penny," Elijah whispered softly, his voice cold and heartless. "See, I never bonded you. It was a regular spell to get people to think that we were mated. I just needed you to gain powers. Now that I am the crowned Prince, I don't need you, and thus I had to kill you so that I can be with my true mate."

His words pierced me like a knife, turning the blade further into my already broken heart. I could feel the remaining hope dissolve, leaving me empty and shattered.

"Ian, is it?" I spoke with a sour laugh.

"Clever as ever, cousin," Isabella replied, her tone laced with venom. She stood at Elijah's side, her golden hair glinting under the light of the torches, her green eyes cold and calculating.

Now I knew. Elijah had been plotting to do this for years. I could see betrayal on his face. Every time he said he loved me was a lie; every time he enticed me was a lie. All he ever wanted was the throne. And Isabella had always been in support of his nefarious plans. What about the King? I looked over at the Lycan King William, who looked tired. Probably he knew everything too. After all, his daughter was Isabella.

I shut my eyes and felt the strength drain from my body gradually.

So it ends like this.

A bitter, hollow laugh shook on my lips, but I did not have the energy to release it. My body was failing, my mind crumbling, but the agony in my heart—that profound, soul-crushing agony—was more than any wound.

Oh, Moon Goddess, what wickedness have I committed?

My thoughts spun as blackness stretched to claim the edge of my vision, every desperate gasp more difficult than the last. I had fought for this kingdom, for these subjects, for people I thought I could trust all my life. And here I was, hemorrhaging on the cold marble floor like a tossed prisoner. The weight of treachery descended upon me like a mountain, suffocating, unmovable.

I failed them. I failed them all.

A sob in my throat as memories of the past flooded my mind—Bridget's cheerful smile, my father's strong, reassuring voice, the laughter that once filled these halls. All gone. Lost to the very people I had once called family.

I couldn't protect my loved ones. I couldn't save them. And now, I am nothing.

Tears flowed down my cheeks, mixing with the blood that was plastered on my skin.

Forgive me, Father… I have dishonored your name. I have allowed the kingdom you built to fall into the dangerous hands of traitors. I was blind, too naive. I thought love, loyalty, and honor were something. But in the end, I was a fool.

My trembling hands clasped the gaping wound in my chest, the agony unbearable. But no pain of the flesh could compare to the torment of my soul.

No one else understands, Goddess, but you. No one else realizes that I never did anything to deserve this. But my ignorance, my foolishness, killed so many. They died at my hands.

Another wave of grief flooded over me, engulfing my heart in desolation. I could picture their faces, those who had warned me, those who had stayed by my side until they were dead.

My father. A great king. Killed.

My allies. Slaughtered like cattle.

All because of me.

A strangulated cry escaped my lips, my frame convulsing in uncontrollable fear.

Goddess, forgive me….

The prayer was a whisper, a desperate cry into the void. But there was no answer. No warmth. No mercy. Only the cold, suffocating grip of death closing in, hungry to claim me as its own.