Rejected Luna's Final Curse

The day I died, the entire Silver Moon Pack mourned.

Only Lukas Reynolds, the Lycan King, felt no sorrow—just a lingering irritation.

Irritation that, two weeks prior, when he’d tried to make my sister, Leona Reynolds, his chosen mate, I had argued with him fiercely and never apologized.

Irritation that the pack’s Omega, Samson Stewart, knelt outside the Moonlit Hall, unsure how to assign me a title, write my life story, or arrange my burial in the royal crypt.

Reports piled up like snow on the roof, each one filled with flattering words trying to guess the King’s mood.

They called me wise and compassionate, but I had once chased a corrupt Omega across three streets with my claws after he dared to withhold Lukas’s meals.

They said my life was one of ease and privilege, but after Lukas became King, we argued more than we spoke, and I seemed to cry often, always crying.

As for my burial, Lukas, in a rare moment of generosity, decided to grant me the honor of resting beside him in the crypt.

But before the decree could be finalized, Eleanor Mitchell, the Omega in charge of the Moonlit Hall, knelt outside and delivered my final wish.

Lukas probably guessed what it was.

Surely, it was an apology, a plea for a grand title, a demand that Leona never be allowed into the pack.

“Your Majesty,” Eleanor said, her voice steady, “the Queen did not wish to be buried with you.

“She said this life was too painful, and she did not want to see you again, even in the afterlife.”

---

Before I left the pack, there were still many things I needed to settle.

I instructed the healers to prepare for spring plagues and disasters, warning them that this winter’s mildness could bring trouble. I reminded the Omegas not to let my funeral disrupt the plans of the pack’s young women to leave and find their mates.

After finishing two final decrees, I knelt to wipe my eldest son Wade’s tears, telling him not to break the legs of crickets for fun—that a true gentleman avoids cruelty, even in small things.

Wade, too young to understand, only stared at the torn paper lantern in his hands.

Samson Stewart, standing nearby, hesitantly spoke up:

“Your Majesty… what should I tell the King?”

I paused, thinking carefully.

Two weeks ago, Lukas and I had argued bitterly, and we hadn’t spoken since.

He insisted on making Leona his chosen mate, even going so far as to send me a rejection decree and a vial of wolfsbane, hoping to force me to bend.

In the past, I would have torn up the decree, smashed the vial, and stormed into the hall to confront Lukas face-to-face.

But now, with my time running out, I no longer wanted to fight.

Calculating that I had less than three days left, I rubbed my temples and smiled softly:

“Tell the King that I agree.

“In three days, let Leona enter