The Laughingstock Luna: Alpha's Late Tears Worth Nothing

ASTERIA’S POV

The pain hits me again, sharp and sudden, like claws tearing at my insides. I grip the edge of the dresser to steady myself, forcing my breathing to slow. It feels like fire burning through my veins, something darker and more insidious than any wound from battle. But I’ve grown used to it. It’s been like this for years, creeping in slowly at first, but now... now it’s unbearable.

I glance at my reflection. Pale skin, sunken eyes, a shadow of the Luna I’m supposed to be. I’ve told myself the lie for so long—that these are just the effects of war, remnants of the battle with Malakai’s forces. But deep down, I know better.

This is no ordinary wound.

I bite down on my lip, suppressing the groan threatening to escape. I can’t let anyone hear me, especially not Claude. He wouldn’t care. In fact, knowing him, he might enjoy seeing me broken. The thought alone tightens the knot in my stomach.

The door swings open, and I scramble to compose myself, straightening up with a sharp intake of breath. Claude enters the room without so much as a glance in my direction. Mara trails behind him, of course.

“Luna,” Mara sneers, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. “You look pale. Perhaps you should sit this one out. Again.”

I swallow the bile rising in my throat. “I’m fine,” I say through clenched teeth. The words are almost mechanical now, automatic. I’ve repeated them so often they’ve lost meaning.

Claude, as always, remains silent. His cold indifference is far more cutting than anything Mara could say. He steps past me, heading toward the large window that overlooks the training grounds. His back is turned to me, but I can feel the weight of his unspoken judgment.

“You don’t look fine, Luna,” Mara continues, her voice playful as she perches herself on the edge of Claude’s desk. “You’re slipping, you know. The pack’s starting to notice.”

I meet her gaze, forcing my voice to stay calm. “I’m still Luna of this pack, Mara. Don’t forget that.”

She smiles, a wicked curl of her lips. “For now.”

The taunt hits harder than I’d like to admit. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up. The curse has been eating away at me, slowly draining my strength, my power—everything that once made me who I am. I can barely shift anymore without feeling like my body is being ripped apart from the inside.

But I can’t let them see that. Not Mara, not Claude, not anyone.

The truth is, I’m running out of time.

When the door finally clicks shut behind them, I allow myself a single moment of weakness. I lean against the dresser again, gasping for air, my body trembling from the strain of holding everything in. Blood pools in my mouth, and I spit it into the handkerchief I keep hidden in my sleeve. The sight of it—dark, thick—makes my stomach churn, but it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.

The curse is doing exactly what Malakai intended. It’s breaking me, bit by bit, day by day. I remember the moment he cast it, the glint of his red eyes as he whispered ancient words, the feel of cold magic wrapping around me like a chain. He wanted to make sure that Glasswood, my home, would never rise again. And by weakening me, he’s succeeding.

Claude doesn’t even know. He thinks my deterioration is due to my own weakness, not some malicious spell cast by our greatest enemy. And why would he care? In his mind, I deserve this for rejecting our bond, for choosing my pack over him all those years ago.

I wipe the blood from my lips, straightening my spine. I can’t afford to wallow in despair. I’m still the daughter of an Alpha, even if that title means nothing here. I owe it to my pack, to my father’s memory, to fight—no matter the cost. I won’t let Malakai’s curse steal my birthright.