The sun spilled weakly through the curtains, bathing the room in a muted glow. I didn’t move. Couldn’t move.
I lay there, staring blankly at the ceiling, the weight of everything pressing down on like an invisible force. My body felt foreign—hot and cold in turns, heavy and light all at once. It was as if I was floating and sinking at the sa ti, untethered from the world.
A faint knock on the door broke the silence.
"My lady?" a soft voice called. It was the maid. Again.
I didn’t respond, hoping she would leave. But, of course, she didn’t.
The door creaked open, and the sound of her hesitant footsteps followed. "I’ve brought your food," she said, setting the tray down on the small table by the bed.
I didn’t even glance her way.
For a mont, she didn’t say anything, just stood there, likely debating whether she should try to talk to again. I could feel her eyes on , full of concern—or maybe pity.
"My lady," she said at last, her voice trembling slightly, "please... you need to eat. It’s been days."
I didn’t answer.
"You’re already so weak," she continued, taking a cautious step closer. "This... this isn’t good for you. Your health—"
"I’m fine," I muttered, cutting her off.
She hesitated, clearly not believing . "With all due respect, my lady, you’re not fine," she said, her tone growing firr. "You’ve barely touched your food. Your body needs—"
"I said I’m fine," I snapped, my voice sharp enough to make her flinch.
Silence stretched between us, thick and heavy. I heard her exhale softly, a mix of frustration and resignation.
"Very well," she said finally, her voice subdued. "I’ll leave you to rest."
She moved toward the table, gathering the untouched tray from the day before. I caught a glimpse of her as she glanced back at —just for a mont—before she left. Her expression was a strange mix of sadness and sothing else I couldn’t place.
The door clicked shut behind her, and the room was silent once more.
I exhaled shakily, my hands gripping the thin blanket beneath . A part of knew she was right, that I needed to eat, needed to try, but another part of couldn’t bring myself to care. What was the point?
The goddess despised . The world was against . I was cursed, broken, and alone.
My chest ached, a deep, gnawing pain that had nothing to do with the fever or the wolf I had lost. It was sothing else entirely—sothing that ran deeper than anything physical.
I rolled onto my side, curling into myself as tears pricked the corners of my eyes. It felt like there was no end to this, no escape. Just this endless, suffocating darkness.
And I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe it would be better to just let it take .
This wouldn’t be the first ti I had wished for death, and it probably won’t be the last.
The thought wasn’t dramatic or laced with the flair of self-pity—it was just a fact. A simple, quiet truth that had lodged itself in the cracks of my soul. I wasn’t afraid of death. Honestly, I welcod the idea of it, the release it promised. It had to be better than this... whatever this was.
I stared at the wall, my vision blurred and unfocused. My breaths ca shallow, each one a struggle, as if my chest was too tight to expand fully. The fever had been unrelenting, burning from the inside out, leaving weak and listless. And the pain—the sharp, agonizing stabs that ca out of nowhere—was enough to make wish for the darkness to finally consu .
My wolf was gone. That part of —the part that had always been there, tethering to who I was—had been ripped away.
I felt hollow.
No, not hollow. Hollow suggested there was still an echo, still sothing left behind. I was... nothing.
Another wave of pain surged through , tearing a gasp from my lips. My body curled in on itself instinctively, my arms wrapping around my midsection as if that could sohow contain the agony.
"It’s fine," I whispered to no one. My voice was hoarse, barely audible. "I’ll be fine. Just... breathe."
I squeezed my eyes shut, tears slipping down my cheeks. I wasn’t even sure who I was crying for anymore—my wolf? Myself? Maybe both. Maybe neither.
The goddess had cursed . That much was clear. There was no other explanation for this—this void.
It wasn’t just the loss of my wolf that hurt; it was the why. Why ? What had I done to deserve this? What sin had I committed that was so unforgivable?
I thought back to the stories, the legends of the Moon Goddess. She was supposed to be rciful, fair, just. She blessed those she deed worthy and punished those who weren’t.
So why had she punished ? What had I done that was so wrong?
Another surge of pain crashed into , and I bit down on my lip to keep from crying out. The coppery taste of blood filled my mouth, but I didn’t care. It was a distraction, at least—a small, fleeting distraction from the agony that refused to let go.
My fingers clawed at the sheets beneath , twisting them into a tangled ss as I rode out the pain. When it finally ebbed, leaving trembling and drenched in sweat, I let out a shuddering breath.
This was my punishnt. Whatever I had done, whatever cri I had committed, this was how the Moon Goddess had chosen to make pay.
I turned my head toward the window, watching the light fade as the sun dipped lower in the sky. The shadows stretched across the room, creeping closer, like silent sentinels watching over .
The maid hadn’t co back. Maybe she was finally tired of dealing with . I couldn’t bla her. I was tired of dealing with myself, too.
The pain ca again, sharper this ti, and I cried out before I could stop myself. My body convulsed, my hands clutching at the mattress as I struggled to breathe through the fire that seed to consu from the inside out.
And then, just as suddenly as it started, the pain stopped.
The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the sound of my ragged breaths.
I blinked, my vision swimming, and tried to focus on the faint flicker of light from the candle on the bedside table.
But then the darkness ca.
It wasn’t the comforting kind of darkness that promised rest. This was sothing else entirely—cold, suffocating, and endless.
I felt myself slipping, falling deeper and deeper into it. My limbs were heavy, my mind foggy. And then... nothing.
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