Chapter 1 – The Night I Died
The moon was bleeding.
That was the first thing Selene Viora saw when she opened her eyes.
Scarlet light poured from the heavens, staining the once-peaceful courtyard of the Moon Temple. White petals fell like snow, landing on her torn wedding gown—petals that were supposed to bless her union with the Crown Prince.
Instead, they became the last thing to touch her before she fell.
"Y-Your Highness…" Selene's trembling fingers reached for him—the man she had loved, the one who once swore eternal devotion beneath this very moon.
But Kael Draven, Crown Prince of the Empire, didn't meet her eyes. His sword dripped red, its edge pressed against her chest. Behind him, a soft laugh echoed—sweet, gentle, cruel.
Her half-sister, Eira, stood in the shadows of the temple pillars, dressed in the same silver gown Selene had worn moments ago.
"Did you really think the Goddess would choose you, sister?" Eira's voice was honey and venom. "You were never meant to be the bride of the moon. You were just a mistake."
Selene's breath caught. Pain—sharp, cold, endless—spread through her ribs as the blade slid deeper.
Kael's eyes, once filled with warmth, were now as empty as the night. "Forgive me, Selene," he whispered. "The empire cannot afford a cursed queen."
Cursed.
That was what they called her.
The girl who drew misfortune with every step. The duke's daughter, who was loved by the moon but shunned by men.
And as the temple bells tolled, her vision blurred. The crimson moon above seemed to pulse in rhythm with her dying heart.
"The moon… will not forgive you…"
That was her last breath.
Darkness.
Then—light.
Selene gasped, sitting upright in her bed. Her body was drenched in sweat, her heartbeat wild, her hands clutching the silken sheets.
She looked around. The room was familiar—too familiar. The white curtains embroidered with silver threads, the small mirror by the bedside, the cracked vase her maid always promised to replace.
This was her old chamber.
In the Viora manor.
Seven years before the wedding.
Her hands trembled as she brought them to her chest—and froze.
A faint glow shimmered beneath her skin, right where the sword had pierced her heart. A mark—a crescent moon encircled by runes of light.
"The Mark of the Moon Goddess…"
Legends said it appeared only once every thousand years. A divine gift—or curse—that bound its bearer to the power of fate itself.
Selene's lips curved into a trembling smile, one part fear, one part fury.
"The Goddess brought me back…" she whispered. "She gave me a second chance."
She stood before the mirror, eyes dark and unyielding, her reflection lit by the silvery glow of her mark.
"This time," she said, voice low and cold,
"I won't be the one kneeling in the blood."
The wind outside howled, and somewhere beyond the horizon, the moon flickered—
as if answering her vow.