The Moon’s Executioner

Rain poured hard, turning the battlefield into a freezing swamp. The air was thick with the smell of blood and wet soil. The moon disappeared behind a blanket of dark clouds, leaving nothing but darkness.

Lyra stood motionless, her breath ragged. Her hands, stained with blood, trembled as she looked at the lifeless body of Alpha Darius lying at her feet—his neck nearly severed, his eyes still open and staring into nothing.

She didn’t kill him.

But King Fenrir’s soldiers surrounded her, their stares full of hatred.

“Traitor!” someone shouted.

Lyra spun around, panicked. Her eyes locked onto a familiar face—Kade—standing among the king’s men. He wasn’t supposed to be there. He was the one person she trusted. Her friend. Like a brother.

“She did it,” Kade said firmly. “Lyra killed Alpha Darius.”

Her heart stopped.

Kade? No. He wouldn’t…

But he had. He betrayed her.

Her shoulder bled from a gash, but the sting of betrayal hurt far worse.

---

There was no time to think. The soldiers drew their swords, eyes blazing with murder.

Run.

Lyra didn’t hesitate. She turned and fled into the woods, branches slashing at her arms as she ran. Her breath came in sharp, painful gasps. Blood ran down her side, every step harder than the last.

Behind her, footsteps thundered and arrows whistled. One brushed her arm. She stumbled, but kept running.

I can’t die here.

Her legs burned. Her vision blurred. Her body was giving out.

Do I surrender?

No. She wouldn’t.

She heard a blade behind her, swinging fast—too fast to dodge.

Then, everything changed.

---

The sky churned. Clouds spun unnaturally fast. The hidden moon turned black.

The air went still.

A searing pain tore through her body like thorns piercing every nerve. Lyra collapsed, groaning. Her fingers clawed at the mud. Her nails darkened. Black veins spread across her skin. Her eyes glowed red.

“The Executor’s Curse…” a soldier gasped.

She tried to speak, but the voice that came out wasn’t hers. It was low, ancient, filled with something terrifying.

Her body convulsed. Her fear, pain, and rage twisted into something uncontrollable.

Am I… changing?

The soldiers backed away, fear plain on their faces.

They weren’t hunting her anymore.

Now they were afraid of her.

---

Heavy footsteps echoed.

King Fenrir had arrived.

He stood tall, watching her. His cloak flapped in the wind. His face was calm, unreadable.

“The Executor’s Curse has chosen you,” he said. “You must die.”

Lyra met his gaze, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

Why me?

She didn’t want this power. Didn’t ask for it.

But now, she wasn’t just a suspect.

She was a threat.

“I didn’t kill him!” she said, her voice hoarse.

“No one cares,” Fenrir replied. “This world doesn’t welcome monsters.”

Those words hit harder than any weapon.

---

Lyra’s eyes shut.

She could feel it—power building inside her, wanting out.

If she fought now, she’d accept the curse. Become the monster they claimed she was.

But if she didn’t fight… she’d die.

“I don’t want this…” she whispered. “I’m not a monster…”

Fenrir didn’t move. His sword was still aimed at her.

“Then die.”

Something inside Lyra snapped.

Darkness swallowed everything.

---

The air exploded. A shockwave knocked down trees and split the ground. Soldiers screamed as they were thrown through the air.

Lyra opened her eyes.

Red.

Like blood. Like fire.

She felt it—pure, raw power coursing through her. Her body trembled. Screams echoed, but they seemed far away now.

King Fenrir still stood, watching her. His cold gaze had shifted. Now he looked… intrigued.

“You’ve changed,” he said.

Lyra didn’t answer. Her mouth was dry, and something deep inside her was stirring—something she didn’t recognize.

But one thing was clear.

She was no longer the same.

Not after Kade’s betrayal.

Not after nearly dying.

Not after feeling this power.

A voice inside her whispered one command:

Destroy them.

Lyra lifted her hand. The black veins pulsed. Wind howled around her. The earth cracked. Branches twisted. Smoke curled from the soil.

The remaining soldiers shook in terror.

“She’s not Lyra anymore…”

“She’s a demon!”

That word hit something deep.

Demon. Monster.

Not human.

She should’ve cried. Should’ve felt hurt.

But all she felt was cold.

This power… it was all she had now.

And she’d use it to survive.

She moved her fingers, and a blast of black wind knocked the soldiers down. Some didn’t get up again.

She didn’t know what this power was.

Didn’t care.

King Fenrir stepped forward.

“Want to test your strength?” he asked calmly.

Lyra clenched her jaw.

There was no one left to trust.

So if they wanted a monster—

She’d be one.

She lunged at Fenrir, faster than she thought possible. Her claws aimed straight for his heart.

His blade met her hand first.

The clash echoed like thunder.

He narrowed his eyes.

“Interesting,” he said—and attacked.

---

They fought like forces of nature.

Every swing from Fenrir split the air like a blade of wind. Lyra dodged, ducked, countered. Their battlefield was a ruin of corpses and shattered earth.

Fenrir didn’t seem fazed. He looked like he enjoyed it.

Lyra’s arms shook. Every block stung. But she kept going.

She had no choice.

Her red eyes stayed locked on his.

And then she saw it—something new in his gaze.

Not just interest.

Recognition.

He leapt back, sword lowered, studying her.

“You’re not human anymore,” he said softly.

Lyra didn’t respond.

She didn’t know what she was.

But she knew this world would never accept her again.

She was something else now.

Something dangerous.

And if the world wanted her dead—

She’d destroy it first.

She smiled coldly and whispered:

“Let me show you what a monster can do.”