Moonlit Vows Of Vengeance-Chapter 51: Waking Up In A Strange Land

Athena

My breath hitched before my eyes even opened.

Pain was the first thing I felt. It was not the sharp bite of a wound, but the deep, gnawing ache of a body punished beyond its limits. My limbs screamed with every small movement and my muscles were as heavy as a stone. My ribs throbbed, and dried blood caked my fur and skin. Something hot dripped from my temple.

Where am I?

The ground beneath me was cold—too cold. Not stone, not soil. Smooth, endless... glass? I groaned and opened my eyes.

Darkness greeted me. Not the kind that comes with nightfall, but a deeper void, thick and almost alive. Faint silver light swirled far above me, like stars under water. The sky rippled.

I forced myself up to my knees, hands trembling, breathing ragged.

What happened?

Then it hit me.

The king. The portal. Lucas’s betrayal. Jesse—

"No," I choked, staggering upright.

My claws scraped the surface under me. It wasn’t glass—it was crystal. A black mirror stretching in every direction, reflecting not my body, but my wolf form. My reflection blinked slower than I did, its mouth curled in grief.

I looked away, gasping.

Memories slammed into me like a wall.

Jesse. I held him in my arms. His blood soaking into my clothes. His voice whispering that last word—Bella. His breath stopping.

And then the king.

His mocking laughter. His twisted truth: the Moon Goddess never died, because she never existed—not as we believed. The fragments I’d gathered weren’t relics of salvation—they were her. Her essence, her very being. By piecing them together, I hadn’t saved her.

I had destroyed her.

And then I had lunged, ready to rip his throat out. Rage blinding me.

But I missed him and I went through the portal.

"No," I said again, staggering across the strange reflective ground.

All around me, the space rippled like it was breathing. But there were no trees, no mountains, no horizon. Just endless twilight and a feeling deep in my bones that I didn’t belong here.

What is this place?

I tried to shift back into full human form, but it took longer than usual. My body resisted. My skin burned. When it was done, I collapsed, naked and shaking, barely able to breathe.

A wind picked up except there were no trees, no source. Just the phantom pressure of something unseen moving close. Whispers floated in.

"You killed him..."

"She trusted you..."

"You should have died..."

I clutched my head, teeth clenched, heart pounding.

"Shut up!"

The voices stopped.

And for a moment, everything was still.

I forced myself to my feet again, breath ragged.

This was the price. I had followed the king through the gate of shadows and now I was trapped in whatever dark world lay beyond. A world that echoed with my regrets.

I wiped the blood from my face with a shaky hand and scanned the distance. If I stood still, I’d die here. If not in body, then in soul.

You’re a warrior, I reminded myself. You’re the girl who fought Marcus and survived the Moon Temple. You’re the girl who walked through the Bleeding Marshes and gave up her memories for the mission.

You’re Athena.

So act like it.

I squared my shoulders and began walking, the soft click of my bare feet on crystal echoing around me. There had to be a way back. There had to be.

And if not?

Then I’d make one.

Each step echoed like a drumbeat in a tomb.

I didn’t know how long I walked. Time was strange here—slippery. The sky never changed, just that endless silver ripple far above and the black crystal below. My legs screamed for rest, but I kept moving. Somewhere, somehow, there had to be a crack in this world. A door. Some way out.

Then I heard it.

A sound of a moving carriage.

The sound of wheels.

I froze. The soft roll of wheels against the crystal surface—too smooth, too rhythmic to be imagined. It was followed by hoofbeats, light but distinct. Horses? Do I run and hide?

I spun toward the noise, eyes straining. At first, I saw nothing. It was just rippling darkness. Then a shimmer cut across the horizon, like a tear in the air. From it emerged something that I had already guessed: a carriage. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

No.... I was wrong... there were several carriages. Ornate and gleaming, as if forged from starlight and bone. Pulled by sleek silver horses with eyes that shimmered like opals. At the head rode a man in robes of indigo and pale gold, hair the color of firelight streaming behind him.

But it was the central carriage that stole my breath.

Sculpted glass wheels glided silently, and its frame was carved from wood so dark it almost disappeared into the void. Drapes of midnight velvet were pulled aside, and through them I saw a figure, a man, lounging like a king on a throne.

He completely looked like a prince.

He wasn’t old, no more than a few years older than me, maybe twenty-four or twenty-five. But there was something timeless about his face—like it had been sculpted by someone who had seen beauty in every century. Sharp cheekbones. A strong jaw. Skin kissed with the bronze of long summer days. His dark hair was tousled, but not carelessly; it fell just right, like he had armies of wind working in his favor.

His eyes—deep blue, like crushed sapphires—fixed on me with mild curiosity. It didn’t seem like kindness or even cruelty. It seemed like it was just purely... interest.

He raised a gloved hand and then the procession stopped immediately.

"Who are you?" His voice rang across the empty place like the toll of a bell.

I stumbled forward, half-limping. "Please... help me. I don’t know how I got here. I need to get back home quickly and stop the kings army."

His brow lifted, almost lazily. "What are you even talking about?"