***SLOW UPDATES AND UNDER STRICT EDITING***
"I, Alpha Jacob Mathews, reject Kallisto Marshall as my mate and Luna of the moonlight pack and is hereby banned to never return again" The growl could be heard from kilometers, the authority is his voice...
Hi bugs, I'm sorry for not updating on Sunday, but I am here today and that is what matters hehehe
Trigger warning on this chapter as well, mentions of self-harm. Read at your own risk. You will see the usual ****.
A fun fact: most of the songs I use, have nothing to do with the chapter, is just the song I am listening to when uploading the chapter lol.
Stay safe, stay pleasant, stay proud.
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The castle, with its imposing architecture and storied history, exudes an air of anticipation as the day of the coronation draws near. The grand halls are abuzz with activity, a vibrant tapestry of werewolves from distant packs converging for the momentous occasion. The atmosphere is charged with excitement, yet beneath the surface, an undercurrent of tension flows through the castle.
Jacob, is among the attendees. Despite not having seen him, I can sense his presence like a magnetic force, transcending the limitations of ordinary perception. His elusive aura weaves through the crowd, leaving an unspoken tension in its wake. The colors of the guests' attire create a dazzling display, a kaleidoscope that competes with the opulence of the surroundings. The air is filled with the scent of fresh flowers and polished wood, creating an olfactory symphony that heightens the sensory experience. Even though the coronation is tomorrow, tonight there is a ball for the guests to mingle with each other.
Navigating through the bustling corridors, I find myself caught in a whirlwind of activity. Faces blur as people rush past, their conversations forming a distant hum. The weight of my responsibilities as Luna feels heavier than ever, and I nod mechanically in response to inquiries, my mind preoccupied with the heavy secret I bear.
The past week has been an arduous journey, a relentless struggle for survival that has left me emotionally battered. Two attempts on my own life have raised concerns from Zion, whose growing worry mirrors the turmoil within me. Today, however, I've decided to don a façade, to face the day as Luna despite the storm raging inside me.
The room where the final fittings for the coronation ball are taking place is a haven of opulence. Skilled seamstresses work meticulously on exquisite dresses, and I find myself standing amidst the grandeur, contemplating whether I will ever feel "okay" again. The haunting memory lingers, and the emotions it evokes continue to torment me.
The seamstress eventually leaves the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. My gaze falls upon a small knife among the sewing tools on a nearby table. It becomes my temporary escape, a momentary respite from the turmoil that engulfs me. Faint scars on my wrists serve as a testament to previous struggles, and I succumb to the urge to seek solace in this familiar act of desperation.
*************
The bathroom becomes my refuge. The sound of running water, the metallic scent of blood, and the weight of my struggles converge into a poignant moment of catharsis. Each cut on my wrists is a desperate plea for control amid the chaos. The crimson droplets fall, marking the passage of time and the unrelenting nature of my internal battle.
