I stumbled out of the room, tears pooling in my vision. The corridors were filled with disdain: everyone stared, pointing, whispering cruel jibes.

I fought to hold on to my dignity, but there was no dignity left.

No child, no throne, no husband, no future—my existence collapsed into nothing!

At the edge of the courtyard stood the old stone bridge spanning the willow-draped creek below. I paused. My mind numbed. It didn’t matter how high I climbed—I had fallen harder.

I climbed the bridge’s railing.

Cold wind whipped at my nightgown.

I watched the cars speeding by on the highway below. Their flashing lights moved so quickly, it almost felt like they were calling to me—fast, dangerous, and final.

I took a step closer to the edge.

But just before I could go any further, someone grabbed my hand. The grip was strong and wouldn’t let go.

I froze.

Two men emerged from the shadows, strong and expressionless, pulling me back from the brink.

One of them spoke, his voice calm but commanding, “Not tonight, Miss Melina.”

I trembled, breath hitching with each shaky sob. My voice cracked as I resisted. “Let me go… please. Just let me go.”

They guided me gently back onto solid ground, hands steady beneath my arms. The taller one, broad-shouldered and intense, leaned closer, his voice like a warm echo in the cold night.

“Shh, you’re safe. Don't panic.”

Safe? I wanted to die.

I collapsed against them, hands clutching at my rescue like a lifeline.

Everything went dark.

---------------

Now awake, a memory hovered: being accused of murder.

The slap.

The dethroning. The walk to the road. The decision to step off. The hands. The voices.

And now?

I felt cold ropes bite into my wrists.

I was bound, and in a dim room.

My pulse hammered.

Where was I?

Who were these strangers?

The door creaked open, and soft daylight spilled in.

A figure stepped through.

He was very tall, with an elegant posture and cloaked in muted greys.

He crouched before me, interest gleaming in his eyes.

His voice, when he spoke, was smooth as river stone.

“Miss Melina? I trust your heart is mending.”

“I—I was saved?” I asked, fear bubbling.

“You rescued me?”

He chuckled—a low, rich laugh.

“Rescue? It's been far too easy to lose you.” He bent nearer.

“I… didn’t rescue you. I took you.”

My heart seized. Took me? For what reason?

He studied me.

“You were about to end everything.” He cocked his head.

“So I thought—perhaps you should live for something else.”

Cold dread coiled.

“Where am I? Who are you? Why am I tied up?”

“Ah…” He smiled.

“I had hoped you’d accept your fate with dignity. But yes—you're bound. Once you regain clarity, we can discuss... your new purpose.”

“We?” I stuttered.

Two attendants moved in—one beside each side.

I swallowed thickly.

“Please… you can untie me? I don’t want anything from you. I just want to go home—or die. Let me choose.”

The attendant closest to me offered a chilling grin.

“Isn’t it amusing how the supposed Luna thinks she has a choice?”

They laughed together. My pulse sped.

“Let me go,” I begged. “I won’t fight.”

The other man leaned forward, whispering with a grin: “We’re afraid that is impossible.”

I shook my head. “Don’t you know who I am? I’m the ex-Luna of Crescent Hollow Pack!”

They burst into laughter.

The taller one said, “We’ve heard plenty. Your ‘former Alpha’ tossed you aside tonight. You’re… how shall I say it—extra work we didn’t plan for. Convenient for us.”

Everything crawled upward—fear, confusion, and disorientation.

I forced the words out: “What do you want from me?”

The taller one’s face grew serious. “Have you ever heard of The Scribe?”

My lungs seized. My eyes widened at the name.

That silent, mythical Alpha who ruled all Alphas—no one dared mention him without fear.

“Yes,” I whispered.

He nodded slowly. “In every generation, each pack must send a maiden—one who represents purity—to Him. To appease, to keep his wrath at bay. Since your pack found themselves heirless and you… abandoned… you are now their tribute.”