TheBanished Luna'sAwakening

LARA

I opened my eyes to a white ceiling.

The room was spacious and spotless, and the sharp scent of medicine lingering in the air told me immediately that I was in a clinic. I pushed myself upright, but the nauseating smell twisted my stomach violently.

A soft hand rested against my back before I could lean over.

“Are you okay? Do you need the bathroom?” a woman asked gently.

She looked to be around forty, with kind eyes and a warm smile that somehow made my chest ache more. Her hand moved slowly along my back, soothing the nausea almost instantly.

I stared at her.

Then, to my horror, my eyes burned with tears.

Fuck.

I was crying.

It felt pathetic—childish even—but I couldn’t remember the last time someone had shown me this kind of care.

Other than Matteo.

The woman looked startled by my tears. She quickly pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed carefully at my face.

“There, there,” she murmured softly. “I heard about what happened to you. You fought hard. That alone tells me how strong you are.”

Her words shattered whatever little control I had left.

The tears came harder.

Everything hit me at once—the pain of Matteo’s betrayal, the agony of his rejection, the humiliation of having my blood drained to nourish his precious chosen Luna… and then the rogue attack that nearly killed me.

The woman stayed beside me through it all, patiently comforting me until my sobs finally died down into shaky breaths.

Embarrassed, I wiped my face with her handkerchief and forced out a weak smile.

“Hi… my name is Lara.”

She lightly tapped my head, almost affectionately.

“I’m Darlah,” she said. “One of the physicians of the Frost Fang Pack. One of our patrol guards found you unconscious not far from the border. You were in critical condition when they brought you in.”

My body went rigid.

Frost Fang Pack.

The only pack powerful enough to rival the Red Moon Pack.

For centuries, the two packs had been bitter enemies, constantly clashing despite the great distance between their territories.

And now…

I was lying helplessly inside enemy grounds.

My fingers tightened around the white sheets wrapped around me.

Shit.

If they discovered I belonged to the Red Moon Pack… not just as an ordinary member, but as its former Luna… would they still let me walk out of here alive?

A chill crawled down my spine.

My entire body trembled as terrifying possibilities flooded my mind. If they learned my identity, I had no doubt they would see me as nothing more than an enemy.

Maybe even a bargaining tool.

Or worse.

For a brief moment, panic clawed at my chest so fiercely that I considered ripping the IV from my arm and fleeing immediately.

“No, no, no…” I muttered under my breath, my breathing turning uneven.

I had to leave.

Before anyone found out who I was.

Before word somehow reached Matteo.

The thought of him made something sharp twist painfully inside my chest.

I pushed the blanket away and swung my legs over the side of the bed, only for dizziness to slam into me almost instantly. My vision blurred violently, and my knees nearly buckled beneath me.

“Easy!” Darlah quickly steadied me before I could fall face-first onto the floor.

“You shouldn’t be standing yet,” she scolded gently.

“Your body lost too much blood.”

“I need to go,” I whispered hoarsely.

Darlah frowned. “Go where?”

Anywhere but here.

Anywhere people didn’t know my name.

Anywhere Matteo couldn’t find me.

“I… I can’t stay,” I said weakly, avoiding her eyes.

The older woman studied me quietly for a moment, as though she could sense the fear clawing beneath my skin.

Then her expression softened.

“Nobody is forcing you to stay, child,” she said carefully. “But you’re in no condition to travel. You could barely survive the night as it is.”

My throat tightened.

Darlah sighed softly before helping me sit back down on the bed. “When you recover a little more, we’ll arrange for someone to escort you safely back to your pack,” she said kindly. “You don’t have to worry.”

My heart nearly stopped.

Back?

To the Red Moon Pack?

Panic surged through me so suddenly that I felt sick again.

“No!” The word escaped me louder than I intended.

Darlah blinked in surprise.

I immediately lowered my gaze, my fingers twisting tightly into the bedsheets. Shit. I reacted too fast.

“I mean…” My voice trembled. “I-I don’t want to cause trouble for your pack.”

For a moment, Darlah simply watched me.

Then her expression softened with understanding, as though she sensed there was far more I wasn’t saying.

“You don’t have to panic, child,” she said gently. “Nobody is going to force you into anything right now.”

Her calm tone slowly loosened the tight knot in my chest.

Thankfully, she didn’t press further. Instead, she glanced toward my body and gave a small grimace.

“And besides,” she added gently, “you need to get cleaned up.”

I blinked at her in confusion.

“You fell into murky water before the patrol found you,” she explained carefully. “You were covered in mud and blood when they brought you in. I managed to wipe most of it away from your face while you were unconscious, but some of it was too stubborn to come off.”

Almost instinctively, my fingers brushed against my cheek.

Rough.

God… I must look horrible.

“There’s a bathroom connected to this room,” Darlah continued warmly. “You should take a proper bath and change into clean clothes. It’ll help you feel better.”

Embarrassment crawled into me when I noticed the faint hesitation in her expression.

“I would’ve helped you myself,” she admitted softly, “but I didn’t want to touch you without your permission.”

The words caught me off guard.

For a second, I could only stare at her.

Then I lowered my gaze quickly, afraid she would see the emotion building in my eyes once more.

“Thank you…” I whispered weakly.

Darlah smiled, gentle and patient, as though she understood far more than I was saying aloud.

“You don’t have to thank me for basic kindness, child.”

Darlah left shortly after handing me a set of clean clothes and directing me toward the bathroom connected to the room.

The moment the door shut behind me, I stared at my reflection in the mirror above the sink.

I looked terrible.

My face was pale, my lips dry and cracked, and dark shadows sat heavily beneath my eyes. Dried mud clung stubbornly to parts of my skin and hair, making me look almost unrecognizable.

For a moment, I simply stood there silently.

Then I slowly began washing myself.

The warm water running over my body felt strangely comforting after everything I had been through. I scrubbed carefully at the dried mud stuck to my arms and face, wincing occasionally whenever the sponge brushed against hidden bruises.

The dirt on my cheeks took the longest to remove.

By the time I finished, the water beneath me had turned murky brown.

I changed into the clothes Darlah had left for me—a loose cream sweater and soft dark trousers that were slightly too big—and stepped out of the bathroom quietly.

Darlah wasn’t in the room anymore.

Relieved, I walked toward the mirror near the bed and tried fixing my damp hair with my fingers. Without realizing it, I pushed the sleeves of the sweater upward while struggling with the tangled strands.

The door suddenly opened.

“Oh good, you’re fin—”

Darlah stopped mid-sentence.

I looked up.

She stood frozen near the doorway, staring at me so intensely that my stomach tightened uneasily.

Her expression slowly drained of color.

It was as though she had just seen a ghost.

My hand paused halfway through my hair.

“Is… something wrong?” I asked hesitantly.

Darlah didn’t answer immediately.

Her eyes were fixed on me.

No… not my face.

My arm.

More specifically—the birthmark exposed near my wrist where the sweater sleeve had rolled back looked like black ink spilled across my skin, dark at the center and fading unevenly at the edges.

The hand holding the tray trembled violently.

The glass of water rattled against the plate.

“T-That…” she whispered faintly.

A strange look filled her eyes.

Shock.

Disbelief.

And something dangerously close to fear.

Instinctively, I pulled my sleeve down.

Darlah’s reaction made my pulse spike uneasily.

“What is it?” I asked again, more cautiously this time.

But she still looked stunned.

Finally, Darlah forced herself to move. She placed the tray down carefully on the bedside table, though her hands were still trembling faintly.

“Where…” she started, then stopped to steady herself. “Where did you get that birthmark?”

I blinked in confusion.

“Get it?”

Her gaze sharpened instantly.

“Yes. That mark.”

Slowly, I looked down at my wrist beneath the sweater sleeve.

I had possessed it for as long as I could remember. It wasn’t large or particularly noticeable unless someone looked closely enough.

“It’s just a birthmark,” I answered carefully. “I was born with it.”

The moment the words left my mouth, Darlah inhaled sharply.

Her eyes widened further.

“No…” she whispered almost to herself.

My uneasiness deepened.

Why was she reacting like this over a simple mark?

Darlah suddenly stepped closer to me, her expression conflicted.

“Child…” Her voice had turned oddly fragile. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-three.”

“And your parents?”

The question hit like a knife.

“I don’t know them,” I answered quietly. “I grew up an orphan.”

Darlah went completely silent.

Her eyes glistened faintly as she stared at me, almost as though pieces of a puzzle were slowly falling into place inside her mind.

Then, very unexpectedly—

She reached toward my face with shaking fingers.

I flinched automatically.

The movement seemed to snap her back to reality. She immediately withdrew her hand, guilt flashing across her features.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

But I was frightened now.

Terribly frightened.