Vessel of the Violet Moon

Chapter 1

Clara.

“Just keep your head down tonight,” Maya whispered, not looking up from the stew she was ladling.

“Is he worse than usual?” I asked, my hands trembling as I arranged bread slices on a wooden platter.

“He broke Liam’s arm this afternoon,” she said, her voice flat. “For looking at him too long.”

I swallowed hard. “What’s the reason?”

Maya finally glanced at me, her eyes wide with fear. “Does there ever need to be a reason, Clara? He’s the Alpha. That’s reason enough.”

She was right. In the Silver Moon Pack, Alpha Boran’s whims were law, and his cruelty was the air we breathed. I hated it. I hated every splinter in the floorboards of this rundown hall, every sneer from the pack warriors, every moment I had to bow my head and pretend I was nothing.

“The wine for the head table,” the head cook grunted, shoving a heavy decanter into my hands. “And try not to spill it this time, you useless thing.”

I clutched the cool glass, my knuckles white. The wine was a deep, blood red. It seemed fitting.

I walked toward the raised platform where Boran sat, his hulking frame overflowing his carved chair. He was laughing with his Betas, a booming, ugly sound that made my stomach clench.

Every step felt like walking through thick mud. All I had to do was pour the wine and walk away. Just pour the wine. Don’t trip. Don’t shake. Don’t exist.

“Look at her,” one of the warriors at a nearby table sneered. “Scuttling like a rat.”

“She’s not much more than that,” another laughed.

I kept my eyes fixed on the floor, on the worn wood, on anything but the Alpha.

I was almost there. Just a few more feet. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat of terror.

Then, a foot shot out. I didn’t see who it belonged to. I just felt my ankle catch, my body lurching forward with a gasp.

The decanter flew from my hands. Time seemed to slow as the dark red liquid arced through the air, a perfect, terrible wave.

It crashed directly onto Alpha Boran’s chest, splashing across his pristine white tunic.

The entire hall fell silent. You could hear a pin drop. The laughter died. The chatter stopped. Two hundred pairs of eyes were on me.

Boran looked down at the spreading stain, his expression unreadable. Then, very slowly, he lifted his gaze to mine.

“Alpha,” I stammered, my voice a pathetic squeak. “I’m so sorry. It was… it was an accident. I tripped.”

He dabbed a finger in the wine on his chest and brought it to his lips, tasting it. His eyes were chips of ice.

“An accident,” he repeated, his voice dangerously soft.

“Yes, Alpha. I swear it.”

He stood up. The scraping of his chair was the only sound in the vast hall. He was a mountain of a man, and his shadow fell over me, cold and complete.

“You have ruined my tunic,” he said, still in that quiet tone that was so much more terrifying than his roars.

“I can wash it, Alpha. I’ll get the stain out. I promise.” My words tumbled over each other, desperate and useless.

He took a step toward me. I scrambled back, falling onto the hard floor. He didn't even flinch. He just kept coming.

He grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my skin like steel talons. A cry of pain escaped my lips.

“You are a clumsy, worthless Omega,” he growled, his voice now a low rumble of thunder. “And property that is broken must be taught a lesson.”

He started dragging me out of the hall. No one moved. No one spoke. Not Maya. Not the cook. Not a single wolf dared to meet my pleading eyes.

“Please, Alpha,” I begged, stumbling to keep up with his long strides. “Please, I’m sorry.”

“Your apologies are as worthless as you are,” he snarled, yanking me down a dark corridor toward the cellars.

The cold, damp air hit me first. The smell of mildew and old blood. This was where he took wolves to break them. Some never came back.

He threw me down the stone steps. I tumbled, my head cracking against the wall. Stars exploded behind my eyes, and pain shot through my whole body.

I lay in a heap on the filthy floor, gasping for breath.

He descended the stairs slowly, deliberately, his heavy boots echoing in the oppressive silence.

“You think you can embarrass me in front of my pack?” he asked, kicking my ribs. I curled into a ball, a sob tearing from my throat.

“No, Alpha. Never.”

“You are a stain,” he said, his voice laced with venom. “A blight on the Silver Moon Pack. Your weakness infects us all.”

Another kick, this one to my stomach. It stole the air from my lungs.

“Every time I look at you, I am reminded of how far we have fallen, that we allow creatures like you to even eat at our tables.”

His fists came next. I tried to shield my face, but his strength was overwhelming. Pain was a white-hot fire, consuming everything. I tasted blood, metallic and thick in my mouth.

“Pathetic,” he spat. “You won’t even fight back.”

My vision started to blur. The edges of the dark cellar swam and faded. I could feel my bones grinding, my spirit shattering.

“No one will even remember your name,” he said, his voice sounding distant now, as if from the end of a long tunnel.

Is this it? I thought, a strange sense of calm settling over the agony. Is this how I die? On a cold, dirty floor, forgotten by everyone.

The world went dark. The pain began to recede, replaced by a floating, empty numbness.

I was fading. Slipping away.

Good. Let it end.

Then, something shifted. A light bloomed behind my closed eyes. Not the dim torchlight from the cellar, but a brilliant, searing silver light that exploded through the darkness.

It wasn't hot. It was cool, like moonlight on fresh snow. It wrapped around me, a comforting blanket against the encroaching void.

A voice echoed in the sudden silence of my mind. It was calm, feminine, and held more power than a thousand Alphas.

“Not today, little one.”

I woke with a gasp. My eyes flew open. I was still on the cellar floor. The torch on the wall had burned down to a nub, casting long, flickering shadows. Boran was gone.

I sat up, expecting a symphony of agony. Nothing. I felt… fine. Better than fine. My body felt warm, humming with a strange energy.

“How is this possible?” I whispered to the empty room.

I touched my face, my ribs, my arms. There were no cuts. No bruises. No broken bones. The blood on the floor was mine, I was sure of it, but my body was completely healed. My torn tunic was the only evidence of the beating.

I pushed myself to my feet, my legs steady beneath me.

“A dream?” I wondered aloud. “Was it just a nightmare?”

But I knew it wasn’t. The memory of the pain, the feel of his fists, was too real. Too visceral.

I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a murky puddle of water on the floor. I knelt down, confused, and peered closer.

My own face stared back at me. Pale, smudged with dirt, but whole. My hair was matted with dried blood. My lips were swollen but healing.

And my eyes.

One was the same dull brown it had always been. But the other… the other one was glowing. It wasn't brown anymore. It was a brilliant, luminous violet, shimmering with an inner light, like a trapped nebula.

I stared, my breath caught in my throat. I raised a trembling hand to my face, touching the skin around the impossible eye. It was real.

Panic seized me, cold and sharp. This was wrong. This was unnatural. If Boran saw this, he wouldn’t just beat me. He would kill me. He would call it witchcraft, a curse. He would tear me apart.

I had to hide it. Now.

I scrambled around the cellar, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I found a scrap of dirty leather, torn from an old wine skin.

My hands shook as I folded it and tied it around my head, covering the glowing violet eye. The world became dimmer, half-seen.

I took a deep, shuddering breath, the rough leather scratching against my skin. It would have to do.

No one could see this. No one could ever know.

Chapter 2

Clara.

My legs felt like water, but I forced them to move. I had to get out of the cellar before someone found me. Before Boran came back to finish the job.

*My, my. This decor is simply dreadful. So much grey stone. It screams ‘tyrannical regime with no artistic taste’.*

The voice was back. It was clear and sharp in my mind, like a bell ringing in an empty room.

I flinched, pressing my hands to my head. “Who are you?” I whispered, my voice raw.

*Who am I? Darling, I’m hurt. You pray to me every full moon. Though usually for less bleeding and more food. I’m Selene.*

Selene. The Moon Goddess. I must have hit my head harder than I thought. I was going insane. That was the only explanation.

“You’re not real,” I muttered, fumbling my way up the stone steps.

*Oh, I’m as real as the ridiculous patch on your face. Speaking of which, good thinking. A bit pirate chic, but it works for now. We’ll get you something in silk later.*

I ignored the voice. I had to. If I started talking to myself, they’d lock me away for good.

I crept through the back corridors, keeping to the shadows. My goal was the kitchens. If I could just get back to work, blend in, maybe no one would notice I’d been gone for hours.

The head cook, Greta, saw me the moment I slipped through the door. Her face, already a permanent scowl, deepened.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” she sneered. “Finally done with your punishment? What happened to your eye? Did the Alpha finally pop it out?”

“I fell,” I mumbled, keeping my gaze fixed on the floor. It was the safest place for it.

*You should tell her you fell on your fist and it accidentally broke her nose. Just a thought.*

“Quiet,” I breathed, so low no one could hear.

“What was that?” Greta barked.

“Nothing,” I said quickly. “I said nothing. What do you need me to do?”

She shoved a bucket of potatoes at me. “Peel. And if I find a single eye left in one, you’ll know what it feels like to lose one of yours.”

I nodded and scurried to a corner, sinking onto a small stool. My hands were shaking as I picked up the peeler.

Then the noise started. It wasn’t the usual clatter of the kitchen. It was more. It was everything.

I could hear the hiss of the roast in the oven, the bubble of the soup in the cauldron. But I could also hear the frantic scratching of a mouse in the wall behind me. I could hear Maya, all the way across the room, whispering to another Omega about my eyepatch. I could even hear the low rumble of a conversation from the Great Hall, words about a patrol and rogue wolves.

It was too much. A wave of dizziness washed over me. I dropped the potato and clutched my head.

*Ah. The hearing. That’s a new feature. A bit overwhelming at first, I grant you. Think of it as an upgrade. You’ll get used to filtering out the nonsense.*

“What is happening to me?” I thought, squeezing my eyes shut. My good eye.

*I told you. You’re waking up. The universe decided you’ve had enough of being a doormat.*

“Stop it. Just leave me alone.”

*That, little one, I cannot do. We’re in this together now. For better or for worse. Now pick up that potato before the old hag sees you slacking.*

I forced myself to focus, to block out the cacophony of new sounds. I picked up the peeler, my knuckles white. My hand was unsteady, slick with sweat.

The blade slipped.

It sliced deep into the fleshy part of my thumb. A sharp, stinging pain flared, and blood immediately welled up, a bright crimson droplet against my pale skin. It dripped onto the potato.

Panic, cold and familiar, flooded my veins. Greta would see the blood. She would scream about contamination. It would mean another punishment.

I frantically looked around for a rag, for anything to stop the bleeding. My heart hammered in my chest.

*Oh, don’t be so dramatic. Just watch.*

I looked down at my hand. My breath caught in my throat. The cut was closing. Right before my eyes, the skin was knitting itself back together. The bleeding stopped. Within seconds, it was gone. There wasn’t even a scar. Just smooth, unbroken skin.

I stared, dumbfounded. I poked the spot with a finger from my other hand. It was real. It had healed.

Just like the beating.

“This isn’t possible,” I whispered.

*With me, darling, all things are possible. You heal now. Instantly. It’s one of your… perks. It’ll be very useful, considering the company you keep.*

“What am I?” I asked the voice, my terror finally overriding my denial. “What have you done to me?”

*I haven’t done anything you didn’t already have inside you. I just unlocked the door. You’re a vessel, Clara. A battery for divine energy. My energy, to be specific.*

“A vessel? I’m just an Omega. I’m nothing.”

Selene’s voice lost its sarcastic edge. For the first time, it sounded serious. Stern, even.

*You will stop saying that. You will never call yourself nothing again. Do you understand me?*

The power in her mental voice was so immense it made me feel small, like a speck of dust in the cosmos. I couldn’t have spoken if I’d wanted to.

I just nodded, my eyes wide.

*Good. Now listen to me very carefully. Your life here is over. You cannot stay in this cesspool of a pack.*

“I can’t leave,” I thought desperately. “They would hunt me. Alpha Boran would kill me.”

*He can try. But he won’t be the biggest monster in the woods for much longer. That’s you, now. Or it will be.*

I shook my head, peeling the potato with a mechanical motion, my mind reeling.

“I’m not a monster.”

*No. You’re a goddess. Or close enough. It’s time you started acting like it.*

Her voice softened slightly, a hint of the earlier sarcasm returning.

*But we’ll work on that. Baby steps. For now, just peel your potatoes and keep your head down. But be ready.*

“Ready for what?”

*A great change is coming, little one. It’s on its way to your front door right now. Your old life is about to be shattered. You need to be prepared to walk out of the rubble and never look back.*

The finality in her tone sent a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold of the kitchens. Something was coming. And for the first time in my life, I felt a tiny, terrifying flicker not of fear, but of anticipation.

Chapter 3

Clara.

I spent the morning on my hands and knees, scrubbing the floor of the Great Hall. It was mindless work, which was a blessing. It gave me time to try and process the impossible. A goddess in my head. Instant healing. Super hearing that I was slowly learning to tune out, like background noise.

*You know, if you asked me nicely, I could probably make that floor clean itself. Think of the time we’d save. We could use it for brooding. Or plotting. I’m a big fan of plotting.*

“And how would I explain that?” I thought back, my lips pressed into a thin line as I worked the brush over a stubborn stain.

*You wouldn’t. You’d just walk away like a boss. We really need to work on your dramatic flair.*

“Just let me work. The less attention I draw, the better.”

*Boring. But fine.*

Two of Boran’s senior warriors, Garrick and Fen, were standing near the hearth, arguing in low voices. With my new hearing, I could pick up every word.

“He’s getting worse,” Garrick muttered. “The paranoia. He thinks everyone is plotting against him.”

“He’s not wrong,” Fen replied, his voice a low growl. “If he keeps this up, someone will challenge him. And they’ll have my support.”

“Careful. He hears everything.”

My blood ran cold. If they knew about my hearing, they’d think I was a spy. I scrubbed harder, trying to look completely absorbed in my task.

Fen gestured angrily, his hand knocking against a small wooden pedestal near the wall. On it sat a delicate, ornate vase, decorated with silver filigree. It was said to have belonged to Boran’s mother.

It wobbled.

“Watch it, you clumsy ox!” Garrick hissed.

The vase tipped over the edge. It hung in the air for a fraction of a second, a perfect, horrifying prelude to disaster.

My heart stopped. Boran would kill me. He would say I left my bucket too close. He’d say I distracted them. He would find a reason, and he would drag me back to the cellar and this time, he would finish the job.

“No,” I breathed, a desperate plea to the universe. “Stop.”

And everything did.

The vase froze, suspended an inch from the stone floor. Garrick’s mouth was open in a silent shout. Fen’s arm was still outstretched. A dust mote dancing in a sunbeam stopped its lazy drift. The crackle of the fire went silent.

My mind reeled. I could think. I could move. But the world was a statue.

*Well now. That’s a new trick.*

Selene’s voice sounded… surprised. Genuinely surprised.

“What is this?” I thought, my panic reaching a fever pitch.

*It seems you have more control than I anticipated. You wanted it to stop, and it stopped. You bent time, little one. Just for a moment.*

I stared at the frozen scene. My mind couldn’t comprehend it.

*Quickly now. Fix it. You can’t hold this forever.*

My body moved on instinct. I scrambled forward, my knees scraping on the stone. My hands were trembling as I reached out and caught the vase. It felt solid, real, in a world that had become a photograph.

I carefully placed it back on the pedestal, nudging it to the center.

“Okay,” I whispered. “Okay, it’s fixed. Let it go.”

*That’s not how it works. You have to… release it. Let the river flow again.*

I didn’t know what that meant. I just closed my good eye, focused on the memory of the world in motion, and wished for it to be normal again.

The sound crashed back in. The fire crackled. Fen and Garrick blinked.

“I almost knocked it over,” Fen said, pulling his hand back as if burned. “Gods, Boran would have had my hide.”

“You got lucky,” Garrick grunted, glancing at the vase, which was now perfectly safe. “It must have just wobbled.”

They moved on, their argument forgotten. They didn’t even look at me.

But I was not okay. The moment time restarted, a wave of exhaustion hit me so hard my vision went black at the edges. A profound, bone deep weariness that felt like I hadn’t slept in a year. The strength fled my limbs, and I collapsed back onto my heels, gasping.

My head spun violently. I felt nauseous. I had to get out of sight.

I grabbed my bucket and stumbled out of the Great Hall, finding refuge in a small, dusty alcove where cleaning supplies were stored. I leaned my head against the cool stone wall, my body trembling.

“What was that?” I asked Selene, my thoughts sluggish.

*That was power, little one. Real power. It takes a toll. You’re a battery, remember? You just used a massive amount of juice to perform a tiny miracle.*

“It felt like it was killing me.”

*It almost did. You’re not ready for that kind of expenditure. It’s like trying to run a lightning storm off a candle flame. You’re lucky you didn’t just pass out.*

“I never want to do that again.”

*You will. When you need to. But for now, yes, let’s stick to instant healing and eavesdropping. The temporal manipulation can wait until you’ve had a decent meal and a bit more practice.*

I took a few deep breaths, forcing the world to stop spinning. The exhaustion was still there, a heavy cloak on my shoulders, but the nausea was fading. I had to get back to work before I was missed.

I pushed myself off the wall, my legs unsteady, and walked back toward the kitchens. As I rounded a corner, I almost ran directly into a solid wall of muscle.

Alpha Boran.

I froze, my head immediately bowing. “Alpha,” I mumbled, my voice barely a whisper.

He didn’t move. He just stood there, blocking my path. Silence stretched between us, thick and heavy with menace.

“Look at me,” he commanded. His voice was low, but it held the sharp crack of a whip.

Slowly, fearfully, I lifted my head. I focused on his chin, unable to meet his eyes.

His fingers suddenly clamped under my jaw, forcing my head up. His touch was rough, possessive. I flinched, but he held me fast. His gaze wasn’t just cruel this time. It was different. It was appraising, searching. And beneath the contempt, there was a flicker of something else. A dark, ugly hunger that made my skin crawl.

“There is something different about you,” he said, his thumb brushing over my cheek. It felt like being touched by a snake.

“I… I don’t know what you mean, Alpha.”

*Tell him to get his filthy hands off you before you break his wrist.*

The goddess’s fury was a hot spike in my mind, but I couldn’t act on it. I was frozen by years of ingrained terror.

“Don’t lie to me,” he growled. “I beat you to within an inch of your life. I felt your bones break. I left you bleeding out on the cellar floor. Yet here you are, scrubbing my floors without so much as a limp.”

“The Goddess was merciful,” I whispered. It was the only excuse an Omega could offer.

He laughed, a short, humorless sound. “The Goddess doesn’t waste her time on runts like you.” His eyes narrowed, focusing on my eyepatch. “And that. What are you hiding?”

“I fell, Alpha,” I lied, my heart hammering. “My eye is swollen shut. It’s ugly.”

“Is it?” he mused. He leaned closer, his scent, pine and stale rage, overwhelming me. “Perhaps I should be the judge of that.”

His other hand came up, reaching for the leather strap.

*Don’t let him, Clara. Not him. Not ever.*

For the first time, I found a spark of defiance. I twisted my head away, breaking his grip on my chin. “Please, Alpha. Don’t.”

The surprise on his face was immediate. He was not used to being denied anything, especially by me. His eyes darkened, the flicker of lust replaced by the familiar storm of his anger.

But then, a slow, cruel smile spread across his lips. It was more terrifying than the anger.

“So, the little mouse has grown claws,” he purred. “Interesting.”

He didn’t try to touch the patch again. He just looked at me, a long, lingering look that stripped me bare. He was no longer looking at a nuisance to be kicked. He was looking at a puzzle to be solved. A toy to be broken in new and fascinating ways.

“Get out of my sight,” he said finally, stepping aside.

I didn’t need to be told twice. I practically ran down the corridor, not stopping until I was safely in the chaos of the kitchens.

My back was pressed against the door, my entire body shaking. I was more scared now than I had been in the cellar.

“He knows,” I sent the thought to Selene, my mind screaming. “He suspects something. That look in his eyes…”

*I saw it. Disgusting pig. He’s noticed you’re not a broken little bird anymore.*

“This is worse. This is so much worse.”

*Only for now. Stop worrying about him. He is a dying ember, Clara. He just doesn’t know it yet.*

Her voice was calm, a steady rock in my sea of terror.

*He is your past. But your future is coming. I can feel it. A storm is gathering on the horizon, and it is heading right for this pathetic little packhouse.*

I slid down the door to sit on the floor, wrapping my arms around my knees.

*And you, little one, are standing right in the center of it.*