THE LUNA'S ECLIPSE

The Nightveil Pack bustled with activity as preparations for the harsh winter pressed on. Valeria, only eight years old, skipped along the well-worn paths of the pack's territory, her breath visible in the crisp air. The adults moved with purpose, hauling bundles of firewood, sacks of dried herbs, and crates filled with preserved meat. The sky above was an icy blue, the promise of snow lingering on the horizon.

From the center of the pack's courtyard, her father, Alpha Cedric, stood tall and commanding, his voice steady as he issued orders. "Ensure the food is stored securely, and double-check the insulation in the dens. We can't afford to lose anything to frost or scavengers. Mason, how's the inventory coming along?"

Beta Mason, a stout man with a weathered face and kind eyes, glanced at the parchment in his hands. "We're short on blankets and a few essential herbs, Alpha. I'll send a team to the forest edge to gather what we can before the heavy snow sets in."

Valeria watched her father nod and continue directing the pack. She admired the way he carried himself-strong and capable, always putting the pack's needs above his own. Determined to be just as helpful, she carried small bundles of wood to the storage shed, her tiny arms straining but her spirit unwavering.

"Good work, Valeria," her father said with a proud smile when she returned for another load. "Your effort makes a difference, my little wolf."

Her cheeks flushed with pride at his words.

Not far away, her mother, Elara, watched from the large window of the packhouse. Her hands rested gently on her swollen belly, a soft smile playing on her lips as she observed her daughter and husband. Though she yearned to be out there with them, lending her own strength to the pack's efforts, the late stages of her pregnancy kept her confined. Still, she found solace in watching her family work together.

"Be careful, Valeria," Elara called softly through the open window. "Don't overdo it, my love."

"I won't, Mama!" Valeria called back with a grin. But her mother's words weren't necessary. Unlike others, Valeria didn't feel the cold the same way. She didn't need the thick coats or scarves the other wolves wrapped themselves in. Her simple jumpsuit was enough to keep her comfortable, even as the wind nipped at her rosy cheeks. It wasn't something she thought much about, but she noticed the way others sometimes glanced at her with confusion or unease.

"Isn't she cold?" one of the older warriors murmured to another as they passed by, bundled in heavy cloaks.

"That child.she's something else," the other replied, shaking his head.

But Valeria ignored the whispers. She had too much to do to dwell on their curiosity. She ran to the storage shed, where Beta Mason was now overseeing the stacking of crates.

"Uncle Mason," she piped up, tugging at the edge of his coat. "Do we need anything else? I can help!"

Mason knelt down to her level, smiling warmly. "You've done plenty already, Valeria. But if you're still full of energy, why don't you check on the pups in the nursery? They could use a helping hand keeping the little ones entertained."

She hesitated, glancing at her father, who gave her a nod of approval. "Go ahead, little one. The pups will be glad to see you."

Valeria dashed off, her jumpsuit fluttering behind her as she headed toward the nursery. She felt a flicker of warmth in her chest, not from the exertion but from the sense of belonging and purpose. Even at her young age, she was determined to make her mark in the pack, to prove she was more than just a child.

Inside the packhouse, Elara watched her daughter with a mix of pride and worry. "She has such a strong spirit," she murmured to herself.

*******

That evening, as Valeria helped her mother tidy up the packhouse, a sudden, sharp alarm pierced her mind. Wolves of the Nightveil Pack howled and growled through the mind link, their voices urgent and filled with panic. Valeria, too young to have gained her wolf, could only see the fear on her mother's face as she clutched her swollen belly.

"Valeria, run! Hide!" Elara whispered harshly, her voice trembling. She grabbed her daughter by the shoulders, urgency written all over her face.

"What's happening, Mama?" Valeria asked, her voice shaky. She had never seen her mother like this before.

"The pack is under attack. Go, now! Find a safe place and don't come out until it's over!" Elara's voice cracked as she pushed Valeria toward the hidden storage beneath the stairs.

"But, Mama-"

"No!" Elara interrupted, her tone sharp. She softened, cupping Valeria's face with trembling hands. "I love you, my little wolf. Be brave, like your father."

Valeria obeyed, darting into the cramped space and pulling the door shut. She hugged her knees to her chest, her small frame trembling as she listened to the chaos unfolding outside. Screams, howls, and the clash of wolves in battle filled the air, growing louder and more desperate with each passing second.

But her hiding place offered no sanctuary. A pair of strong hands yanked the door open, and before she could scream, Valeria was dragged out into the freezing night. The cold bit at her skin, but it was nothing compared to the icy fear that gripped her heart as she was brought before a towering, unfamiliar Alpha. His dark eyes glinted with malice as he looked down at her.

She glanced around, and her breath hitched at the sight of bodies strewn across the ground. Among them lay her parents-her father's strong form lifeless beside her mother's, who still clutched her belly protectively. Tears streamed down Valeria's face as she choked on a sob, her world shattered in an instant.

The enemy Alpha sneered, his voice cruel and commanding. "Spare the pups. They'll serve as slaves. Their time will come when they're old enough to fight."

With that, Valeria and the other surviving children were roughly rounded up, their lives as members of the Nightveil Pack over in the blink of an eye.

This was the beginning of her nightmare-a life of servitude and loss, where survival was the only goal and hope seemed like a distant dream.

VALERIA'S POV

The last ten years of my life in the Shadow Fang Pack have been nothing short of torment, each day a battle to survive in a world that viewed me as less than nothing. From the moment I was dragged from my burning homeland and thrown into chains, my identity was stripped away, replaced by a single, unchanging label: slave.

AGE 8: THE BEGINNING

It started with small tasks-cleaning floors, fetching water, and running errands for the warriors. At first, I thought if I worked hard enough, they might see me as more than just a prisoner. I thought wrong. The warriors saw my efforts as nothing more than an opportunity to exploit my labor further.

By my ninth birthday, I had learned the rules of survival: speak only when spoken to, keep your head down, and never, ever cry. Tears only brought laughter, followed by harsher punishments.

AGE 10: THE LESSON OF OBEDIENCE

I remember scrubbing the stone courtyard on my hands and knees, the sharp rocks biting into my skin. Beta Kane-a man who seemed to derive joy from cruelty-walked by, kicking over the bucket of soapy water. "Start over," he ordered coldly.

When I hesitated, his hand struck my face, leaving a bruise that lingered for days. "Slaves don't get to question orders," he spat. That lesson was one I would never forget.

AGE 12: THE FIRST HUMILIATION

It was an evening like any other, and I had been tasked with polishing the warriors' boots for a feast. As I worked, I felt something strange, a warm trickle running down my thigh. Confused and embarrassed, I tried to ignore it, but Beta Kane noticed immediately.

"What's this?" he snarled, grabbing me by the arm and yanking me to my feet. When he saw the blood staining my clothes, his face twisted with disgust.

"Five lashes for making this mess, you disgusting wh*re," he declared.

I was dragged to the punishment post before I could even understand what I had done wrong. My back still bore scars from previous punishments, and the new lashes reopened wounds that never seemed to heal.

AGE 13: THE FIRST BETRAYAL

Among the other slaves, I found a rare semblance of companionship in Freya, a girl younger than me by a year. She had a spark of defiance in her that I admired, though it often got her into trouble.

One night, I was yanked from my bed and dragged before the Alpha. Freya stood there too, her face pale and her shoulder bleeding.

"One week of starvation and seven lashes each night for stealing from the kitchen," the Alpha's voice boomed. I stared at Freya, confused and hurt. She couldn't meet my eyes.

It wasn't until later that I learned she had blamed me to save herself. That night, as the whip tore into my back, I promised myself I would never trust anyone again.

AGE 15: THE PUNISHMENT OF KINDNESS

The Gamma's wife was heavily pregnant, and I was assigned to care for her. I scrubbed her back during baths, fetched her meals, and brought her tonics my mother had once taken during her own pregnancy. I worked tirelessly, hoping that perhaps kindness would be returned in some small measure.

But fate had other plans. When her child was stillborn, the blame fell squarely on me. "It was that slave! She poisoned me!" she wailed, her grief twisting into hatred.

Despite the healers' assurances that the death was caused by complications, the pack didn't care. From then on, I became their outlet for every frustration, every anger. The blows came harder, the punishments harsher.

AGE 17: THE DARKEST NIGHT

By now, the abuse was routine. The warriors took pleasure in tormenting me, whether through cruel words or physical harm. One night, after a long day of cleaning the training grounds, they cornered me. Jax, their leader, sneered as he grabbed my arm.

"Let's see how much this one can take," he said, and the others laughed.

They pushed me, shoved me into the mud, threw rocks that left bruises. When I stumbled, Jax kicked me hard in the ribs, and I gasped, unable to breathe. Just when I thought it would never end, a voice cut through the chaos.

"Enough."

Alpha Magnar, the future leader of the pack, stood at the edge of the training grounds. This is the first time I've seen him so close.His piercing gaze silenced the warriors instantly. He didn't look at me but addressed them with icy authority.

"If you have time to waste, perhaps I should find you something more useful to do." His tone left no room for argument. The warriors scattered, leaving me trembling and broken on the ground.

Magnar didn't offer a hand to help me up, nor did he speak to me. But his intervention, however small, planted a seed of something I hadn't felt in years: hope.

Ten years of pain and degradation have shaped me, but they have not broken me. I carry the scars on my body and the weight in my soul, but somewhere deep inside, a spark remains. One day, I will rise above this. One day, I will be free.

VALERIA'S POV

It's early morning, and soon, midnight will strike today, and I will turn 18, I sat on the sand looking at the peaceful scenery in front of me. It was a full moon and its reflection on the water made it beautiful. A small smile appeared on my face as the cold water touched my toes.

This place was my only safe sanctuary, but only a nightmare as it would be flocked with my bullies during the daytime. Those boys were foolish enough to miss school and waste their time here.

If only I had the chance to attend school, I would never leave and would try to make the most of it. I used to have full attendance in my school at my old pack when everything was fine in my life until Alpha Dimitri killed my whole pack and I became a mere servant.

I could never forget that night. I don't know why Alpha Dimitri had to kill all those people. As far as I know, my pack has always adhered to the principle of friendliness and I've never heard of any rivalry with other packs. That night changed my life forever.

I clenched my fists, I hoped I would not keep being a slave for the rest of my life.

I looked beside, over the sand. I slowly wrote something on wet sand and then tried to read it out loud.

"Happy Birthday Valeria."

A bitter smile curled on my dry lips. I wasn't even sure if I wrote my name correctly. Even after spending 10 years in this pack, no one cared about my real name.

A slave doesn't need a name.

They always called me some derogatory terms, slut, b*tch, wh*re, Mutt, or if someone was being generous then they would simply call me a slave.

This is good. These bastards don't deserve to know my name either.

I gently touched the name I had written on the beach. Mother once told me 18 would be a special day for a werewolf but before she could tell me more, Alpha Dimitri's army broke in to ruin our lives.

Tears brimmed in my lonely eyes as my parents' faces came back in my mind. I looked at the moon, wondering why I had to suffer all this. But I knew the Moon wouldn't reply to me.

Sighing for the hundredth time, I got up to leave. I had to return now, or I'd get a whipping if the supervisor found me sneaking out. However, a sharp pain suddenly hit my heart and I had to clutch my chest tightly.

What happened?

My body started heating up and sweating profusely. I gritted my teeth as I didn't want to make any sound to alert any guards on patrol nearby. The pain was so suffering that I had to lay there and hoped that the pain would subside on her own.

My body couldn't stop shivering and I curled into a ball and tried to sleep. But a gentle sound of music distracted me and lowly the pain subsided and I fell into a deep slumber with one last thought in her mind.

Who was singing? Who had such a melodic voice that sent peaceful shivers down my spine?

My world fell into a haze of pain and cold. I barely registered the icy splash of water hitting my face before the sharp, mocking laughter echoed around me. My body jerked reflexively, but the ache that rippled through my stomach and ribs kept me from moving further.

I blinked against the droplets of water clinging to my lashes, the dim moonlight illuminating the sneering faces of my tormentors.

"Wake up, sl*t!" A cruel voice snapped, and another kick to my stomach had me heaving, bile rising in my throat. I curled into myself, trembling, trying to shield her battered body from their relentless assault.

"Guess this is where you hide at night, huh? Like the little rat you are," sneered Brayden, one of Magnar's loyal lackeys, his eyes glittering with malicious amusement.

"Pathetic," someone else muttered, the sound followed by a derisive snort.

"Look alive, boys! Seems the little slave turned eighteen last night," Braden continued to shout behind him.

A powerful aura of pressure arrived behind me and I immediately recognized him-Magnar, the son of Alpha Dimitri.

I rarely had the opportunity to see him. I am a slave, while he was an alpha wolf. I only appeared in the kitchen, while he appeared on the training grounds. But for some reason, I could always recognize him instantly when he was around.

The last time we met was when I was 17 years old and was nearly beaten to death by a warrior, and he appeared to help me. I once thought he was different from the others.

I shook my head, not allowing myself to harbor any fantasies again. I quickly put on my shoes. I wanted to get up and leave now. Today is my birthday and I didn't want to celebrate the last moment with bleeding wounds, but my dream was soon shattered.

"Bitch! You want to escape?" Brendan kicked me again, his shoe stepping on my heart. My body instinctively convulsed, and an iron rust taste immediately appeared in her mouth. My brows were furrowed in pain, and I broke out in a cold sweat. The pain in my abdomen and ribs prevented me from moving further.

"Where's your wolf, bitch?" Brendan lowered his head and mocked.

I continued to remain silent because experience had taught me that resistance would only excite them more.

Brendan turned towards Alpha Magnar. "Brother, aren't you curious about what level our slave's wolf is? Or is it true, as the rumors say, that you've fallen in love with your little slave?"

Brendan's words fell, quickly provoking a burst of laughter.

I lowered my head and pleaded. Magnar stepped forward, and the crowd parted slightly. His tall and formidable figure stopped in front of Brendan, and then, to everyone's surprise, he grabbed Brendan's throat.

"Listen, never insult your future alpha, even if we are the best of friends."

Brendan showed a fearful look, then respectfully nodded.

"Good," Magnar said with satisfaction, then walked over to me. "Now let's deal with our little slave."

His towering figure cast a shadow over me. And my breathing became tense. His predatory grin revealed sharp teeth, and his piercing gaze swept over my trembling body. The hole in my heart grew deeper. I had a bad feeling.

The next second, I heard his mocking voice rise.

"Eighteen, huh? That's a big day for a pup," Magnar drawled, crouching down to meet my frightened eyes.

"Did you celebrate, Valeria? You know, the way we celebrate is to let our wolves come out and run, why don't you show your wolves? "

"Oh wait. I forgot. You're not like the rest of us, are you? No family. No pack. Just a mangy little mutt that cleans up after the real wolves."

His tone was light, teasing almost, but the edge of malice beneath it made my blood run cold.

I thought I was numb to all the sarcasm but it's the opposite. The words from his lips cut deeper than the pain in my body. I clenched my fists, but the effort to suppress her tears left me shaking. Why did he have such an effect on me? Because he's an Alpha wolf?

"I've heard some. interesting things happen when a wolf turns eighteen. Maybe our little slave here deserves a birthday gift from her Alpha's son."Brendan flattered, then looked mischievously towards Magnar.

My heart pounded in my chest. I didn't know what he meant but I could detect the malice in his words. I couldn't help but quickly look towards Magnar again, the disgust in his eyes filling me with fear.

I pressed my palms against the dirt, trying to push myself up, but Magnar shoved Brendan aside, and then his heavy boot stomped down on my arm, pinning me firmly in place.

"Oh no, Valeria," Magnar said softly, crouching down again. "You don't get to run away. Not tonight."

Tears welled in my eyes as I stared into his face, my body frozen with fear. The other boys leaned in closer, their faces alight with anticipation, feeding off Magnar's energy.

"Let's make this a birthday you'll never forget," Magnar whispered, his grin widening into something monstrous.

And I knew my end was near.