Revenge for Alpha's Luna

No branches lay in wait, tripping the shadow into a deep trench, crimson staining its path. Piercing twigs tore through fabric, yet the shadow, despite agonizing pain, fought to ascend, pursued relentlessly by the sparks.

Their torches aglow, a group peered into the chasm, observing the shadow's futile resistance, their gazes condescending, as though watching a jest.

"Ha, ha, ha..."

Struggling to breathe, the shadow looked back, hands soaked in blood, gripping the foliage above, fixing a gaze upon the foremost figure, voice straining,

"Firman... Didn't expect it to be you."

"You're too naive, my young master."

Firman sighed, shaking his head, "Adaptability is the mark of true wisdom. Your standing has waned."

The shadow fell silent. "How much did he offer you? I can double it."

"You still don't grasp it."

A cryptic smile crossed Firman's lips as he signaled. A crossbow bolt was passed to him. He took aim,

"Benefits are worthless without life to claim them. I've made this clear before."

"Your downfall is your own incompetence. Ultimately, you failed to see through him, allowing him to outmaneuver you."

The shadow sneered, "You understand yourself well... If I die, can your longest-serving personal servant survive?"

Firman paused. Before him stood one weak-willed, while his former master epitomized cruelty. Tonight he bore his former master's head; tomorrow, fate might claim him.

The shadow, sensing hesitation, pleaded, "Spare me. I forgive your betrayal and will reward you."

"Hmm."

Firman shook his head, unwilling to prolong this any further. Raising the crossbow, he aimed at the shadow and pulled the trigger forcefully.

Swish!

"Hmm!"

At the last moment, the shadow rolled to evade the bolt, yet it grazed his shoulder. Firman narrowed his eyes, reloading swiftly. Another bolt struck the thigh, the shadow gasping as he struggled to escape the trench. The crossbow's aim was fixed at his head.

"Goodnight, my young master."

Firman was about to fire when a voice called out,

"The moon is out!"

His gaze flickered skyward, momentarily diverted. The clouds dissipated, revealing the radiant moon, a silver beacon in the night sky.

The night of the full moon.

A sense of foreboding crept in, as a muffled, guttural sound reached Firman's ears. Realizing the impending danger, he turned to the trench. The shadow's form twisted into a beast with astounding agility.

"Hoo!"

The beast growled, its once benign features morphing into a ferocious form. Firman's expression hardened, hastily retreating.

"Retreat!"

In a moment, the roles of hunter and hunted switched abruptly.

......

In a dense forest, an eerie silence draped the surroundings. A colossal cross stood tall in the clearing, a slender woman tightly bound to it, a bed of branches and withered leaves below.

Her head hung low, her hair cascading to veil her face. Eyes half-lidded, a trickle of blood adorned her lips, her appearance disheveled.

A gathering of finely dressed individuals assembled, led by a young man wielding a black cloth ball, a look of disdain etched across his features as he appraised the woman.

"Truly unfortunate."

Her eyes slowly traversed the group until they settled on him, catching the contempt in his gaze. Subtly, she curled her lips into a sneer.

Who would have thought that the once proud Miss Winston would plummet from grace to the depths of despair within a mere half-year?

Perhaps she shouldn't have acquiesced to that marriage, orchestrated solely for her family's benefit. Ill-suited matches always tilt the balance unfavorably, leaving the vulnerable party to suffer. Despite her noble status, she became a doormat for her marital family, subjected to scorn from maids and servants alike.

Not one for competition, she would've endured if her husband treated her kindly. Little did she anticipate his affair with a so-called 'white moonlight lover,' parading the affair in front of her after she moved into the castle!

Her pride couldn't stomach her husband's infidelity, prompting an immediate demand for annulment. But her family had already reaped rewards from the engagement, rendering her unable to depart.

Post the confrontation, her situation worsened. Her fiancé imprisoned her in the dungeon, allowing his mistress to torment her. Worse, his lascivious brother made clandestine attempts on her dignity, met with desperate resistance that caught the attention of none other than her fiancé's mother – her supposed mother-in-law.

Branding her promiscuous and detrimental to the family, her mother-in-law subjected her to torture throughout the night, leading to her awakening in this bound predicament.

And now, those soon-to-be her people were eager to condemn her to death.

Absurdity mingled with sorrow in her heart, veiled by a sneer. The man overheard and scowled, hurling an object to the ground.

"Hillary, the proof is irrefutable. What say you?"

The object unfurled, revealing a black robe and an ornate wide-brimmed hat adorned with dizzying patterns-a standard witch costume, a sight to provoke mayhem, especially considering the owner's lineage among the five families.

Hillary remained silent, head bowed. A beautiful woman clad in white interjected beside the man.

"Fern, could this be a misunderstanding?"

"Stay silent, Anna," Fern sneered, his arm around Anna's delicate waist. "I've sensed something awry for a while. If you hadn't stumbled upon this filth, I'd have never known she was in league with witches!"

"A wicked creature!"

As though pronouncing a sentence, their words carried curses, echoing the collective sentiment.

"May this cross condemn her to hell! The Lord's glory shall shame her!"

"A gutter bug in the castle for three months! Unfathomable! I'll seek the priest for purification."

"To hell! Evil witch! To hell!"

"Why hide this from the town? Are we to protect her reputation even now?"

"Idiots," someone muttered. "It's to shield the Lowell family's reputation! She's still Fern's nominal fiancée, don't forget!"

Anna's body trembled involuntarily at the mention of the word "fiancée." She couldn't help but lower her head, biting her lower lip in a pitiful gesture. Fern shot a displeased glance at the speaker, disrupting the whispers that had circulated.

"Let's proceed with the trial," Fern announced, fixing his gaze upon the silent woman, his brow furrowing deeply. "Hillary, tell me, where are your remaining followers?"

"Remaining members?" Hillary's dry lips parted slightly, her voice tinged with heavy sarcasm. "I am not a witch. How could I have any remaining members?"

"Are you still not admitting it?" Fern tutted irritably. "The Winston family has abandoned you. There hasn't been a reply."

He released Anna and paced slowly toward the cross, adopting a persuasive tone. "If you disclose the whereabouts of the remaining rebels, I might spare your life."

"Save my life? Ha." The woman's laughter erupted as if she found something amusing. "Fern, Fern, what do you take me for? You might as well use this to fool the next person. I might just be the happiest soul in this situation, or perhaps it's her."

Anna's face drained of color. "Don't make baseless accusations. I never thought such a thing!"

"Do you even believe yourself?" The woman lifted her head, bloodshot eyes mocking Anna. "I'm your easiest obstacle in becoming the Lowell family's wife. Maybe you should worry about that lady... You know her tricks too well."

Anna's lashes fluttered as confusion clouded her gaze, glancing towards the man not far away. He had promised her not to deceive her, hadn't he?

Seeing Anna's unease, the woman sneered, "Are you daring to bet on him? A man judging his own fiancée."

"..." Anna scrutinized Fern, hoping for a reassuring answer, but he only coldly replied, "Let's not deflect," before revisiting the prior inquiry.

The woman's sneer echoed in Anna's ears, causing her to bow her head.

"Once more, Hillary, this is your final chance," Fern pressed on, signaling a servant to fetch a torch. Brandishing it threateningly, he demanded, "Where are your accomplices?"

Hillary, ignoring Fern's urgency, met his gaze and questioned, "Do you intend to claim credit from the interrogator with my so-called accomplices?"

"You've been raised at Lowell Castle. It's time you gave something back," Fern demanded impatiently.

"How thoughtful of you," Hillary chuckled wryly. "I could tell you where my accomplices are."

"Really?" Fern's eyes lit up in anticipation. "Where are they?"

A sardonic smile played on Hillary's pale face. "Come closer. I have something to tell you."

Fern hurried to the foot of the cross, his anticipation evident. Hillary's lips moved, and she looked at Fern with a flash of mockery. Then, to everyone's astonishment, she spat a mouthful of blood-stained saliva at Fern.

"Ugh." Fern recoiled, caught off guard by Hillary's audacity. "You deranged woman! Dream on with your grand schemes!"

"...This woman is insane!" Shock and disbelief rippled through the onlookers; nobody had expected Hillary to display such boldness, daring to spit at Fern!

"Fern!" Anna reached for a handkerchief, attempting to step forward, but Fern abruptly brushed her hand away and flung the torch into the pile of dead leaves. The flames erupted instantly as he glared menacingly at Hillary on the cross.

"Bitch! Rot in hell!"

The heap of dry leaves meticulously selected by the servant ignited instantly, flames dancing up the branches and spreading swiftly, encircling the cross. Hillary coughed violently amidst the thick smoke, her skin reddening from the intense heat.

"Bitch! Damn you!"

Fern, wiping the spittle from his face, cursed vehemently. He directed others to gather more firewood while he and Anna stood in the open space, almost eagerly anticipating Hillary's demise.

The agony of being consumed by flames was excruciating. Anna watched as the fire intensified, listening to Hillary's hoarse, stifled coughs. Suddenly, she heard a whisper, a voice seemingly echoing in her ears and resonating in her mind.

The woman on the cross fixed her gaze on Anna and spoke deliberately, "You'll be next. Soon, you'll have your place here too."

"You're going to hell."

"?! "

Startled, Anna stepped back abruptly, horrified, her gaze locked on Hillary on the cross. At that moment, Hillary had been choked unconscious by the dense smoke, but her words lingered in Anna's mind like an ominous chant.

A gust of wind rose, lifting the black robe from the ground. Anna glanced at the intricate patterns on it, her hands trembling involuntarily.

No, she thought to herself, I will become Lowell's wife and sit on that unique high seat.

Gradually easing herself, Anna attributed it to the effect of the wind. The fire hadn't reached Hillary yet. Her nails dug into her palms subconsciously, pushing herself on. Unexpectedly, something extraordinary occurred.

Roar!

A sudden, deafening roar echoed from the dense forest, resembling that of a wolf or a tiger.

The startled birds scattered in all directions. The roar seemed to draw nearer, growing more urgent. Fern's expression shifted slightly, and before he could react, a scream pierced through the crowd.

"It's a monster! A monstrous creature is approaching!"

"What monster?!"

Wide-eyed, the person continued in horror, "It's colossal, towering dozens of feet, with unbelievably powerful limbs, half-foot-long razor-sharp claws, a wolf-like head, and a trailing tail!"

Shock engulfed everyone. "Is that a werewolf?!"

The servant rushed forward, "Sir, rumors of fierce wolves prowling these woods have been circulating in town... This place is perilous. We mustn't stay."

"Yes, sir. That woman is almost done for. We can return for her when the monster's gone."

"Sir! There's no time to waste!"

"... " Fern listened to the escalating roar. Without hesitation, he gritted his teeth and made a call. "Retreat!"

They fled like fugitives, abandoning the burning cross and the unconscious Hillary. Rustling emerged from the dense forest, and a towering shadow emerged, approaching the cross.

"... I've found you."