Chapter five: Burn the maid

The day was grey, and the skies mirrored her soul.

Clouds rolled over the Crescent Moon Pack like a warning, but no one heeded it. Liora limped out of the scullery with a basket of laundry balanced on her bruised hip, arms trembling under the weight.

Her vision blurred as she took slow steps toward the line, her body aching from yesterday’s beating. She was sure at least two ribs were cracked. Her hip burned like fire, and fever pulsed behind her eyes.

And still… she worked.

The laundry line stood by the training grounds—an open area where wolves sparred, laughed, and showed off.

She wasn’t even halfway across the field when she heard them.

The elite she-wolves. Sylara’s friends. Vicious. Entitled. Beautiful only on the outside.

“Oh look,” one of them called out loudly. “The rodent is out of her hole.”

Liora didn’t respond. She kept walking.

“Hey, maid! You dropped something!”

Laughter.

She didn’t stop. She just wanted to hang the clothes and disappear.

But then Sylara’s voice cut through the air like a blade. “Don’t let her ignore you. She’s getting bold again.”

A sudden shove from behind.

Liora fell, face-first into mud, the basket spilling. Pain erupted in her shoulder.

She gasped, struggling to rise, but they were already on her. Kicking. Laughing. One of them grabbed her by the hair and yanked her up, forcing her to kneel.

“Look at her,” Sylara said coldly. “I heard she thinks her wolf is coming soon. Isn’t that cute?”

Liora flinched.

Another she-wolf snorted. “A wolf like hers probably crawled back into the spirit realm the moment it saw her face.”

“Maybe she’s cursed,” one added. “Would explain why she’s so disgusting.”

Sylara looked thoughtful for a moment. Then… her lips curled cruelly.

“You know what? Let’s test something. If she really has a wolf… let’s see if it protects her.”

She turned and took a hot metal rod from the training firepit nearby—a tool used to harden weapons.

Liora’s eyes widened in horror. “No—please—”

Sylara pressed the rod near her arm. Not touching. Yet.

“If you had a wolf, it’d stop me, right?” Sylara purred. “It’d heal you. So let’s see what happens when I—”

HISSSSSSSSS!!!

The rod pressed to Liora’s shoulder. The skin sizzled instantly. The stench of burning flesh filled the air.

She screamed.

A raw, painful sound that pierced the sky.

The pain was unbearable. Her vision blackened. Her whole body seized as she fell over, twitching, her screams echoing long after the rod was gone.

The she-wolves only laughed harder.

Sylara waved the rod proudly. “No wolf. Just a broken toy.”

And they left her there, smoking, sobbing in the mud.

Liora didn’t know how long she lay there. Minutes? Hours? Her shoulder was blistered. Her arm wouldn’t move. Her breathing was shallow.

But inside… something was changing.

A thrum.

Like thunder under her skin.

Valeria was stirring.

Not fully awake.

Not strong enough yet.

But there.

“Almost,” the wolf whispered weakly. “Just a little longer…”

Liora sobbed softly, her cracked lips barely parting.

“I don’t… I don’t want to die,” she whispered.

“Then don’t,” her wolf replied. “Make them regret it".

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