Selene's POV.

The world was a blur of white walls, slow beeping, and suffocating stillness when I woke up.

A soft groan escaped my lips as I turned my head. My limbs felt like lead, my skin burning cold. But I wasn’t alone.

Damon was there.

Sitting beside me, his face buried in his hands. When he looked up, I flinched.

Because the way he smiled… it wasn’t the monster I heard last night. It was the man I once trusted, the one who used to whisper sweet nothings against my stomach and promise forever.

"You're awake," he said gently, reaching for my hand. "How are you feeling, love?"

I didn’t answer right away. My voice was lodged in my throat.

Because… was it a dream?

His fingers curled around mine with practiced warmth, and for a second, I doubted everything. Maybe I had hallucinated the whole thing. The doctor did say I’d been poisoned. Maybe it was all in my head.

Still…

His touch chilled me to my core.

"You need surgery, Selene," Damon said softly, brushing my hair back like he cared. "There’s a complication. If we don’t act fast, either you or the baby could die. I… I can’t lose you both."

His voice cracked like a man in agony. It was almost convincing.

I stared at him, trembling.

“I… I don’t want surgery,” I croaked. “Not by a doctor. I want to be healed by an elf instead. Their magic—” My voice faltered. “Their magic will protect the baby. It’s the only way I’ll feel safe.”

Damon’s brows furrowed, lips pulling into a regretful frown. “Selene… elves live far away. We don’t have time. You’re already weak. Waiting could make things worse.”

Just then, the door opened—and my brother rushed in.

“Sant—” My voice broke as I reached for him.

Santino dropped to his knees beside the bed and wrapped his arms around me. His scent—home, safety, warmth—flooded my senses. I finally let myself cry.

After a moment, I pulled away and whispered, “I want a healer, not a doctor. Please. I need to be sure the baby survives this.”

Damon opened his mouth, but Santino nodded before he could speak. “Then I’ll summon one,” he said firmly. “I’ll contact Mr. Elm.”

“You won’t be able to,” Damon said calmly. “He won’t trust an unfamiliar messenger. Santino, you have ties with their people. You’re the only one who can convince them. And time is running out.”

Santino hesitated, then sighed. “He’s right.” He cupped my cheek. “I’ll go myself. I’ll bring Mr. Elm back. Three days—no more. I’ll teleport back the second he agrees.”

I clutched his shirt, voice barely a whisper. “Take me with you.”

Santino glanced at Damon, then shook his head. “It’s too dangerous in your condition.”

“No,” Damon said firmly, stepping forward. “This time, I won’t let you go. You need rest, Selene. I won’t risk losing you or the baby.”

As Santino turned to leave, I felt my chest tighten. A cold dread crawled up my spine.

Something told me this would be the last time I’d see my brother.

Santino paused at the door and turned to me one last time—smiling, hopeful, strong.

“I’ll come back,” he promised. “I swear it.”

Then he was gone.

Later that evening, I stirred again.

I wasn’t alone.

A shadow loomed over me—and it wasn’t Damon.

Dalia.

Damon’s cousin. A woman who always looked at me with scorn and jealousy. Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she approached the bed.

“Look at you now,” she sneered. “The almighty Selene, looking like a beggar on her deathbed. So pathetic.”

Before I could respond, her hand shot out—and she slapped me hard across the face.

Pain exploded in my skull. My body was too weak to react.

Dalia’s gaze dropped to my neck. “Ooh, what’s this?” She yanked at my necklace, snapping it off with a sharp jerk. I gasped as pain seared across my throat.

The enchanted necklace… the one with the feather—

It was gone.

No. No. No.

My blood ran cold.

The feather was missing, which meant…

It wasn’t a hallucination.

It was real.

All of it.

Dalia twirled the broken chain around her finger with a smirk. “You’re not going to need this anymore. Damon’s bringing back Eliah. You? You’re just a memory.”

She leaned closer, her breath hot and cruel against my ear. “You should be honored. You’ll die for a great cause.”

She pulled a syringe from her coat.

“This’ll help you rest peacefully,” she mocked. “Forever.”

I struggled, weak and shaking, but she jammed the needle into my arm. I screamed—silently. No one came.

Three hours passed.

Then another shot.

Then another.

The drugs were slowly killing me.

I could feel it in my bones. My body was shutting down. My breath grew shallow. My tears stained the pillow silently.

When I felt a presence beside me again, I thought maybe it was Santino.

But it was Damon.

He brushed my hair back tenderly. I turned my head away.

Then, without warning, he grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked it back.

“So,” he whispered darkly, “you did hear me last night.”

My heart stopped.

I froze.

How… how did he know?

His eyes gleamed, cold and wicked. “You really thought I wouldn’t notice that little feather of yours glowing before it vanished? I was just in the door, Selene.”

He leaned closer, voice sharp as a knife.

“You sent for help.”

He smiled.

“Too bad it’ll come too late.”

Selene's POV.

Damon's gaze was cold—almost amused—as he stepped closer to my bed. His eyes gleamed with something vile, something I had never seen before… not even in our worst moments.

“Who did you send for help?”

His voice sliced through the silence like a blade. I blinked, disoriented, his shadow looming too close—his tone too calm, too rehearsed. The warmth that once lived in his eyes was gone, replaced by nothing but sharp, calculated suspicion.

“Was it Santino?” he pressed. “No… doesn’t seem like it. You’re hiding something from me, aren’t you… my dear wife?”

I tried to sit up, but my arms trembled violently. My body refused to cooperate—drained, sluggish. The poison was working faster than I’d thought. Or maybe it was the constant syringes that witch, Dalia, kept stabbing at me.

“You demon…” I managed to rasp, my throat raw and trembling. “I trusted you… I loved you. Why are you doing this? What about our baby—?”

“Our baby?” Damon laughed. Not kindly—no, it was a low, condescending chuckle that chilled me to the bone. “Selene, don’t delude yourself.”

He moved closer, crouching beside me. I turned my face away, but his fingers gently tucked a stray hair behind my ear. The tender motion made bile rise in my throat.

“I am thankful, truly,” he whispered, like he was offering some sort of mercy. “You served your purpose. But the child Eliah carries… that is my legacy. That child will rule—not the cursed spawn of the Arkwell bloodline.”

Tears slipped silently down my cheeks. My heart shattered with every word.

Damon leaned in closer, his breath warm on my ear. “So please… just be good. Don’t struggle. And I’ll grant you and your child a peaceful death.”

I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t breathe.

Then he stood, brushed imaginary dust from his robe, and walked away without looking back.

The moment the door clicked shut, I broke.

My hands curled into fists, nails digging into my palms until I felt blood drip from the cuts. Rage boiled inside me—hot, unbearable, suffocating. How could I have been so blind?

He was going to let me die slowly, day by day, hidden behind false tenderness and poison.

I couldn’t let that happen. Not when Santino was out there trying to bring help. Not when I still had a chance to survive—for my baby.

I threw the covers aside and tried to move. Sitting up was torture; every inch of my body felt like it had been crushed under a mountain. But I clenched my teeth and gripped the rails, dragging myself to sit.

“Come on,” I whispered to myself, “you can do this…”

I managed to swing my legs off the bed, but the moment my feet touched the floor, my knees buckled.

I collapsed.

The cold tile bit into my skin, but I barely felt it. I sobbed—not from the pain, but from the sheer helplessness clawing at me. Curled on the floor, arms wrapped protectively around my belly, I just cried.

I used to be strong. I used to fight.

I had to remember who I was.

Get up, I begged myself. Move. Survive.

I lay there for what felt like an eternity, the chill seeping into my bones, before I finally dragged myself toward the wall—one inch at a time.

Please, I prayed silently. Let that person receive my letter. Let them come. Let someone come.

And then, through the fog of pain, my mind drifted to the beginning—how all of this had started.

Damon and I had once been classmates—barely friends. He was cold, broken after Eliah left him. I was the quiet outcast from the cursed Arkwell clan, ridiculed by everyone except the Moon Seer who foretold a future none of us understood.

A son born from me and Damon will lead the kingdom.

And so, Damon’s parents had arranged our marriage.

I was never wanted—only needed.

Even then, life in the Moonvil household was truly brutal. Whispers of my cursed blood haunted me. Every look, every comment, every silence was a knife.

Damon had been cold too, at first. Still bitter from Eliah leaving him.

But I stayed. I loved him. I believed we could build something real.

I was a fool.

A bigger fool for believing he ever loved me back.

My body ached. My belly throbbed, the baby barely moving now. Still alive… still fighting.

I gritted my teeth, one hand clutching my belly protectively. “I’ll get us out of here,” I whispered to the child inside me. “Even if it kills me.”

I clenched my fists, crawling toward the nightstand, trying to reach anything—anything—that could help me escape.

The door opened again.

I froze, trembling, praying it wasn’t Dalia with another syringe.

It wasn’t.

She stepped inside slowly, her heels clicking across the floor.

A woman with striking beauty and venomous eyes.

“Eliah,” I whispered.

She smiled with twisted grace.

“It’s been a while…” she said, her voice silken and cruel.

Then she tilted her head.

“…Sister.”

My blood turned to ice.

Eliah. Beautiful, graceful, deadly. She wore a silk robe, her long dark hair perfectly styled, her amber eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

“Damon’s been keeping you in such poor condition,” she said with a soft laugh. “You look like hell.”

I wanted to crawl away, but I couldn’t move.

Eliah crouched beside me, tilting my chin up with her manicured nails. “You were always the moon’s favorite. The prophecy. The kingdom. Damon. That damn place. But all of that ends now.”

She stood and pulled something from her pocket.

My heart stopped.

It was a necklace. Mine.

The one with the enchanted feather.

The one I used to send a message.

“No…” I breathed.

Eliah smiled as she twirled the charm between her fingers. “You thought you were clever. Sending out secret messages...”

My stomach churned. If she had it… then it hadn’t reached—

But then something strange happened.

A wind stirred in the room. The feather shimmered. Eliah looked down in confusion, her fingers trying to tighten around it.

Too late.

The charm glowed, turned into a stream of silver light, and vanished through the open window.

“No,” she gasped.

I smiled.

Tiny. Defiant.

“You didn’t catch it in time,” I whispered. “It’s gone.”

Eliah spun to me, her expression darkening, but I didn’t care.

The message was delivered.

The world would know the truth.

And maybe—just maybe—we still had hope.

Selene's POV.

Eliah’s eyes went wide with panic. The glow from the feather was gone.

That could only mean one thing: it had reached its recipient.

Her lips curled in rage. “No… no, no, no—”

She lunged at me and grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back so hard my scalp burned.

“Who did you send it to, huh?! Tell me! TELL ME!” she shrieked.

I glared into her eyes and spat on her face.

“You little—!”

She shoved me to the floor, and my knees scraped against the cold marble. Her hand lifted, ready to slap me across the face.

“HELP!” I screamed, my voice raw with desperation. “SOMEONE—!”

Her eyes widened at the sound of footsteps.

Panic seized her.

On instinct, she snatched the silver tray from my bedside table.

And before I could understand what she was doing—she slammed it into her own forehead.

The sound was sickening. Blood immediately began to trickle from the wound.

The door burst open.

Damon. Thorne. Dalia. Damon’s parents. And a stranger—someone I’d never seen before, with intelligent, suspicious eyes.

Damon froze for a split second at the chaotic scene. Then he remembered himself.

There were witnesses.

He rushed toward me. “Selene! Are you okay? What happened?” He shouted, loud and theatrical.

But as he leaned in and grabbed my arms, his lips brushed my ear and whispered coldly:

“What the hell did you do, my Eliah? You’ll pay for this.”

Behind him, Eliah collapsed dramatically, sobbing with fake tremors.

“I—I was just worried about her!” she cried. “We grew up in the same orphanage, and I thought she might be hurting… But she screamed at me! She was afraid I’d take Damon from her—so she threw the tray at me!”

I stared in disbelief as her performance continued.

Damon turned back to me, his expression full of concern, but his eyes narrowed with warning. “Is it true?” he asked sweetly.

I opened my mouth to answer—but someone beat me to it.

“That doesn’t seem likely,” the unfamiliar man said, his voice calm and sharp. “Your wife doesn’t look like she could throw a tray, Mr. Moonvil. She’s barely conscious.”

All eyes turned to him.

Even Eliah stilled.

“I’m Mr. Varkas,” he added. “Here on behalf of the Council to assess the health of the Luna and the child. And frankly—this doesn’t look right.”

My heart pounded.

Hope. It flickered for the first time in days.

But Dalia scoffed, loud and mocking.

“You’ve got it backward, Mr. Varkas. Eliah is the kindest woman in this entire kingdom we've known. That girl? She’s an Arkwell. That blood is cursed. We should be asking what she did.”

Mr. Varkas turned to me, his eyes narrowing.

“You’re… an Arkwell?”

I felt the shame crawling up my spine. I couldn’t lie. I nodded.

Disgust twisted his face. “No wonder.”

The hope I felt shriveled instantly.

I looked away, teeth clenched, nails digging into my palms.

But then—he surprised me.

“Even so,” he said firmly, “you should treat her with more dignity. She’s bearing the chosen moon child. If this is how you treat its mother, what will that say when the child rules us one day?”

Felicity’s saccharine smile returned. “Don’t worry, we’ll teach her her place. Come along, now. We have more important matters to discuss.”

Dalia sneered at me as she followed her aunt and uncle. Mr. Varkas spared me a last glance—less cruel, more calculating—before exiting too.

Thorne lingered at the door. His eyes held pity. But when Damon shot him a warning glance, he looked away and left.

And then it was just Damon.

Eliah.

And me.

Damon’s hand shot out and wrapped around my throat.

I gasped, clawing weakly at his arm. I was too dazed, too weak.

Damon’s hand shot out and wrapped around my throat.

I gasped, clawing weakly at his arm. I was too dazed, too weak.

He leaned down, his voice venomous. “You dared humiliate her. You ruined everything.”

Eliah stood behind him, crying dramatically for effect, but her eyes glinted with triumph.

“She scratched me,” she sobbed. “She pushed me. I thought she was going to kill me.”

Damon’s eyes burned into mine. “Enough. I’m done. At midnight, you're going to have surgery. I won’t let you threaten Eliah or my heir again.”

“No!” I choked out, my voice shaking. “S-Santino… my brother… he’s coming tomorrow. If you kill me now, the world will know—!”

Damon sneered, tightening his grip before shoving me back. “Even if the world knows you died in surgery, what could they do? We’ll say we had to operate because your condition was critical. Because we tried to save you. Poor Selene.”

His voice dripped with malice.

I shook my head, struggling to breathe through the crushing despair. “No… he’s coming. My brother will stop you—”

Damon chuckled cruelly. “Do you really think your precious brother will make it back in time?”

The words froze in my throat.

“What… what did you do to my brother?” My voice trembled.

“I set a bounty on his head,” Damon said coldly. “A generous one. And let’s be honest… everyone out there would love to be the one to take down an Arkwell.”

My breath hitched.

My vision blurred—not just from the pain or the blood on my face, but from the fear curling into every bone.

They were going to kill me. And now… maybe my brother too.

Damon turned away, gently guiding Eliah like she was something fragile. She leaned on him dramatically, still playing her part. From over his shoulder, she looked back at me with the softest, sweetest smile.

Triumphant.

The door shut behind them with a sharp click.

And I was left trembling, barely able to lift my own body.

W-What should I do...?