At eighteen, Layla's beauty had become undeniable. Her golden-blonde hair cascaded in soft waves down her back, shimmering like molten sunlight, each strand catching the light as if kissed by the Moon Goddess herself. It framed a face so delicate, so perfectly sculpted, that it was almost unnatural—a beauty that seemed to belong to the celestial, not the mortal.
Her skin was flawless, porcelain-like, with a soft glow that set her apart even in the dimmest light. Not pale in the way that looked sickly, but luminous, as though she carried the light of the moon within her very flesh.
And her eyes…
They were silver, pure and untainted, like liquid moonstone. They held an otherworldly depth, a quiet storm brewing beneath their depths, making it impossible to look away. They weren't just beautiful; they were haunting, mesmerizing in a way that made others uneasy. It was as if she could see beyond flesh, beyond lies—straight into the very souls of those around her.
Her lips, full and naturally tinted like the softest shade of rose, were crafted for temptation, though she never wielded them that way.
But Layla remained unaware of how others saw her. She had never been taught to see herself as anything special, especially not after the years of abuse and neglect that had shaped her existence.
She had never known a life of peace. The day she was born, a prophecy was whispered in the halls of the pack—one that was meant to shape her destiny. A prophecy that her mother, the council, her father, and the Luna Catherine knew all too well. A prophecy that was never meant to be shared. And so, the secret was kept at any cost, and the price was steep—her mother's health deteriorated, the council was slaughtered, and Layla's life was warped by the cruelty that followed.
Her father, once a figure of protection, had abandoned her mother and their family long ago, leaving her mother to raise five children on her own. Of those five children, only Layla, Joselyn, and her only brother remained—until tragedy struck, and the two brothers perished in a horrific accident. Layla never got to understand why or how. All she knew was that the family she had loved was slowly falling apart.
As if the deaths of her siblings weren't enough, Layla's mother had been cursed by her own father's hand—poisoned to please the Luna Catherine, in exchange for a favor. This act had poisoned her mother's body, keeping her sick, weak, and unable to care for her children.
Layla's life was full of misery, especially under the constant control of her stepmother and stepbrother, who used every opportunity to remind her of how unimportant and weak she was. Felissa, her cruel stepsister, and Elga, her brutish stepbrother, made her life unbearable. They would torment her, mocking her for being wolf-less, making cruel remarks about her appearance and her uselessness. Her stepmother, Catherine's cold eyes were always on her, and the subtle jabs would never stop.
Yet, Layla kept her head low, afraid of stirring the wrath of her father, who had grown distant and indifferent to her suffering. He never cared for her the way a father should, and she had never been able to earn his favor. It wasn't just her step-family that made her life a living hell; it was the emptiness inside her, a constant reminder that she was not like the others. Her wolf, the power within her that was meant to grow stronger with age, had never come to her, and as she grew older, the weight of being wolf-less became a source of shame she could not escape.
As her eighteenth birthday approached, Layla could feel the pressure building. The night of the grand ball, a celebration for all the wolves coming of age, was supposed to be the moment when she would shift for the first time and prove her worth to the pack. But Layla had always known deep down that something was wrong. The wolf inside her had never answered the call, no matter how hard she tried. She had been told that it would come on her eighteenth birthday—that she would finally shift and claim her place within the pack, but the days had passed in silence, the wolf inside her still absent.
The grand ball arrived, and the entire pack gathered to witness the coming-of-age ceremony. The ballroom was filled with well-dressed wolves, their eyes glinting with excitement as they watched the young adults prepare for the moment of their transformation. Layla stood at the back, her heart racing as she fidgeted with the hem of her dress. She was terrified—terrified that the moment she'd waited for her entire life would reveal her weakness. The silence in the room as the elder called her name was suffocating.
"Layla," the elder's voice rang out. "Come forward. Prove your strength."
Her father, standing at the head of the room, barely acknowledged her. The cold gaze of Luna Catherine followed her every move, and Layla could feel the weight of their judgment pressing down on her like a thousand stones. She stepped forward, her legs trembling beneath her, her heart hammering in her chest.
This was it. The moment she would either rise or fall.
She stood before the pack, her hands shaking, and the elder's voice reverberated through the room once again. "Shift, Layla. Show us your strength."
Layla closed her eyes, her heart pounding as she concentrated with all her might. She had to do this. She had to shift. The wolf was within her, she was sure of it. But no matter how hard she tried, the wolf refused to respond. The power she had always known was there, just beneath the surface, remained locked inside her.
Nothing happened.
Her eyes snapped open, panic and shame flooding her chest. The entire room was silent, the weight of their gazes unbearable. Layla stood there, exposed, a girl who couldn't even shift, a failure in the eyes of the pack. Her heart clenched, and she looked around at the faces staring at her.
Her father's cold expression sent a chill through her. "Useless," he muttered, barely loud enough for her to hear. "What a disappointment."
The cruel laughter of Felissa echoed in the background, her voice sweet but dripping with contempt. "I told you," she sneered. "You're nothing. You'll never amount to anything."
Before Layla could respond, Elga stepped forward. "You're pathetic," he growled, his voice dripping with scorn. He shoved her roughly in the chest, sending her stumbling back. "Worthless," he spat.
The room filled with murmurs, the pack members gossiping and sneering at her. She wanted to disappear, to vanish into the shadows and never face them again. But instead, she stood tall—her eyes burning with a quiet fury they would not understand. She refused to break.
Tonight wasn't the end. Tonight, she was reminded of the weakness they saw in her, but she also knew that one day, they would all regret this. She would rise. She would take back everything they had stolen from her.