The Vampire's Luna

Luna was just as drawn to the moon as every werewolf in the territory. The silver orb hung in the sky, stubbornly refusing to fade, and its pull hummed in her blood. She stood at the entrance to the castle.

When Damien’s car revved hard into the compound, tires biting the cobblestones, Luna’s chest tightened. She rushed forward instinctively, barefoot against the cold stone, her pulse keeping pace with the pounding of the engine. For a second, she glimpsed him through the windshield—jaw clenched, eyes glowing faintly red, the king in him already at war with the man.

"Get in!" Damien barked. The sound jolted her like a whip. She didn’t hesitate. Flinging the passenger door open, she slipped inside, her hair catching briefly in the wind.

"What’s going on? Is this about the moon?" she demanded. She tried to sound calm.

Damien’s gaze stayed locked on the road as he shoved the gear into drive. "At first I thought... some rare natural phenomenon," he muttered. "But it’s morning, Luna. Morning. And the moon is still not moving." His hands strangled the wheel.

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Luna’s heart skipped a beat. She swallowed hard, her wolf restless inside her. "What are you thinking?"

"Only one I know can dare anything like this." His eyes flicked toward her briefly, the look raw with grim certainty.

Her lips parted. The name tore from her in horror. "Morvakar?!"

Damien’s mouth pressed into a hard line. "And if he has dared to defy the heavens, it means something has gone horribly wrong." He downshifted with a growl of the engine, the car leaping forward as though sharing his rage.

"My baby," Luna whispered. The thought alone sent a stab of pain through her chest, sharp enough to take her breath.

"Exactly." Damien slammed the accelerator, the car surging down the winding stone path that cut through the werewolf territory.

Luna’s heart thundered wildly, pounding against her ribs in time with the screech of the tires. She dared not picture what might have happened, but the images clawed at her anyway. A silent sob rose in her throat, and she pressed her trembling hands against her thighs, digging her nails into her own skin.

Silence filled the car.

Damien’s hand flicked from the wheel and landed on her thigh. She turned her head, meeting his crimson gaze. For all his power, his fury, he looked just as afraid as she was. That glimpse of vulnerability almost undid her. She covered his hand with hers, squeezing tightly, silently promising that whatever awaited them, they would face it together.

Half an hour later, Damien guided the car to a grinding halt in front of Morvakar’s ancient castle. Damien barely had the car in park before he and Luna flung open their doors.

Morvakar still stood in the center of the courtyard, arms stretched skyward, shoulders trembling with the effort of holding the very heavens hostage. His face was rigidly pale, and sweat drenched his dark hair until it clung to his temples. His eyes glowed faintly, locked on the frozen moon above. Beside him, Thessa was still on her knees, hair falling wild around her tear-streaked face. She hadn’t moved in hours either, her posture one of both surrender and prayer. It had been more than twelve hours, and they were still trapped in this nightmare.

Then Luna’s gaze caught on the wooden pedestal at the center of the courtyard. The world narrowed to a single, unbearable point. Her son. Her baby boy. He lay so still upon the carved slab, moonlight spilling over his tiny frame, painting his skin an eerie, unearthly white. For a heartbeat, she couldn’t breathe. Then the scream ripped from her throat before she even realized it. "No! No!" Her legs gave out beneath her as she rushed forward, stumbling on the uneven stones. Her hands stretched desperately toward him, as though she could snatch him back from death by sheer force of will.

Damien did not move with her. He hung back, hovering at the edge of the scene as though chained in place. His every instinct screamed to protect her, to gather her in his arms and shield her from the sight before them—but he couldn’t. He couldn’t make himself approach that pedestal. He didn’t want to see it. He didn’t want to see the slack weight of his son’s body, the lifeless stillness of the tiny chest that should have been rising and falling with soft breaths. The thought alone was a knife twisting inside him. No. He couldn’t watch Luna break, couldn’t witness her grief when his own was already a storm threatening to drown him.

Instead, a shameful desire curled inside him: to vanish. To find some corner of the world untouched by pain, where for just one moment he could hold his wife and their son in peace. One moment of happiness—that was all he had ever asked, and even that had been denied him. His throat burned as he fought back a roar that would not change anything.

When his gaze finally shifted, it landed on Morvakar. And what he saw there startled him. The mage was in torment, trembling, straining, as if each second under the weight of the heavens was tearing him apart. His lips moved soundlessly, his body swaying like a man on the edge of collapse. Damien realized with grim certainty that the only mercy left was to relieve him of his burden—one way or another.

Meanwhile, Luna had fallen to her knees before the pedestal. Her fingers hovered just above her son’s cold skin, terrified to touch him and confirm the truth she already knew. Tears streamed unchecked down her face, dripping onto the wood below. But her sobs... her sobs were strangled, too jagged and raw to form sound. Each one was a knife in her chest, carving her open from the inside. She clutched at her belly, at the empty space where once she had cradled life within her, and the emptiness there echoed back at her like a cruel taunt.

(Its been a couple sad days and y’all are punishing me with no gifts. What if i promise tomorrow will be happy? Will I get gifts then?)