The Lycan King's Second Chance Mate: Rise of the Traitor's Daughter-Chapter 201: The Mark of the Moon

Zane~

I’ve faced down beasts in the wild. I’ve survived assassination attempts and stared into the eyes of ancient monsters who whispered death like lullabies. But nothing—absolutely nothing—prepared me for this.

Natalie.

The moment she let go, the moment her body shimmered and shifted into that blinding storm of light and power, I forgot how to breathe.

Her transformation wasn’t just a shift—it was a declaration. A resurrection.

And when she emerged, standing tall in that silver-white fur that drank in the light and scattered it like fireflies, the world stopped turning.

Gasps. Screams. Stunned silence.

Then, as if pulled by an invisible string, every single wolf and none wolf in that ballroom—Alphas, Betas, Elders, nobles, Vampires, Witches—fell to their knees.

Every. Last. One.

Including the king. My father.

Except me. I was too busy staring at her, clutching at my chest like the beat of my heart had skipped ahead of the music.

She wasn’t wolfless.

She wasn’t broken.

She was powerful... She was mine.

Her paws glided across the marble floor with a grace that didn’t belong in this world. Power radiated off her in thick, oppressive waves. Red, growled low in my chest, not out of fear, but awe. Submission. Worship.

Natalie had shifted into her wolf form in front of me before—more than once, in fact—but nothing, and I mean nothing, could’ve prepared me for what I felt today. This wasn’t just a transformation. It was a storm wrapped in silver fur. The sheer force of her presence hit like a hurricane, rolling off her in thick, invisible waves that made the air feel heavier, thicker... almost sacred. I’d seen Jasmine before—but I had never felt her like this. Not like this.

I wanted to drop to my knees too. Hell, part of me did. But I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

Natalie—my Natalie—walked off that podium like a goddess descending from some ancient sky, her towering wolf form dwarfing even the tallest Alphas. She wasn’t just massive—she was radiant. Divine. Untouchable.

And she was walking straight toward Darius and Maeron.

The crowd parted without a sound, heads bowed. No one told them to kneel. No one needed to. Her presence made them. It was instinct. Survival. Worship.

Even the air bent to her.

Darius was the only one who tried to fight it. Tried.

The bastard actually grit his teeth and forced himself to stand for all of three seconds.

Then he crumbled. Knees slamming into the marble floor with a bone-jarring thud. His eyes bulged, trembling like a man facing his own death.

"No..." he rasped, voice trembling. "No, this isn’t possible. You were wolfless. Wolfless! What are you doing? What are you—"

He tried to lift his arms, maybe to shield himself or maybe to grab some sliver of dignity. But even that failed. They shook violently and dropped to his sides like dead weight.

"This isn’t—" he choked out again, panic seeping into every syllable, "—this isn’t just power. You’re making them bow! You’re controlling them—forcing them!"

Natalie didn’t respond.

She didn’t need to.

She just kept walking, tail swishing, glowing eyes locked on his like a predator deciding whether or not to devour its prey.

Only Maeron still stood. Somehow.

His knees buckled, his arms trembled violently at his sides, and sweat poured down his brow like rain from a broken roof. His spine shook, but he didn’t fall.

I could see the pride there—an Alpha refusing to submit. But I could also see the fear. His wolf was howling inside, begging him to bow. It was only pride keeping him upright. Pride and a desperation I couldn’t quite place.

Natalie stopped just before them, towering.

Her presence was unbearable now. Even I found myself lowering my head slightly.

Then, in the blink of an eye, she shimmered again.

A swirl of wind. A burst of starlight.

And suddenly, Natalie was standing on two legs. Human. Whole. Clothed in the same beautiful gown she’d worn before. My gift to her.

Not a single thread out of place.

The moment she shifted back, it was like a spell had been broken. One by one, people began to stir—as if waking from a trance. Backs straightened, heads lifted, and the weight pressing everyone down seemed to lift into nothing. Gasps filled the room, low and stunned, as those who had bowed against their will suddenly found control snapping back into their bodies.

One woman clutched her chest and collapsed into her mate’s arms.

No one could look away from Natalie.

I saw Jacob grinning from the corner like a cat who had finally watched the world catch up to his secret.

"She’s... clothed?" someone whispered behind me, disbelief dripping like venom. "How is she still clothed after shifting back?"

"She’s supposed to be naked," another muttered. "That’s how shifting works!"

And Darius—who had managed to drag himself shakily to his feet—just stared at her like she’d crawled out of some forbidden prophecy.

"What are you?" he asked, hoarse, broken.

There was a tremble in his voice I had never heard before. Not even when he challenged me multiple times before. Not even when he stood in the face of judgment.

Now, with Natalie standing before him, calm and glowing, he looked like a little boy lost in the woods.

"There’s no way a wolf can do what you just did," he breathed. "No... this is something else. This is witchcraft. Are you a witch?!"

Murmurs exploded through the room like fireworks.

"Even witches can’t do that!"

"Is she cursed?"

"She’s using dark magic."

"No wolf has that kind of power—"

"How did she clothe herself—?"

Natalie didn’t flinch.

She didn’t get angry. Didn’t roar. Didn’t scream for respect.

She just smiled.

And that smile?

It was wicked.

It was playful.

It was the smile of someone who had finally realized what she was worth.

"I don’t owe you an answer," she said softly, cocking her head, her voice silk and steel.

But before she could say more—

Maeron laughed.

The sound cracked through the tension like lightning.

Everyone turned.

Maeron, still barely standing, was laughing like he’d just figured out the punchline to a very old, very dangerous joke.

His eyes locked onto Natalie, and the laughter faded just enough for him to speak.

"I was blind," he said, voice trembling with something between reverence and excitement. "But now I see."

He took one shaky step forward and pointed—not in accusation, but in revelation.

"She bears it," he whispered.

Natalie’s brow arched. "Bears what?"

Maeron smiled wide. Wider than I’d ever seen.

"The Mark of the Moon."

The room exploded in noise.

"The Mark of the what?"

"That’s a myth—!"

"No one’s had that mark in centuries!"

"Only the celestial princess is prophesied to own that mark!"

"What does it mean?!"

Maeron was right, a silver fullmoon shaped mark had suddenly appeared on Natalie’s forehead glowed and then disappeared like it never appeared.

Maeron didn’t blink.

He stepped closer to Natalie, his expression the calm of a man who had just witnessed divinity.

"I thought I was standing before a broken girl," he said. "But no. I was standing before the daughter of the Moon herself."

Natalie tilted her head again, a smirk tugging at her lips, but she didn’t interrupt.

She didn’t need to.

Because now?

Now everyone wanted to hear what Maeron had to say.

And I?

I couldn’t stop staring.

Because the woman I’d fallen in love with—the woman I’d sworn to protect—wasn’t just powerful.

She wasn’t just my son’s beloved, or my heart’s healer.

She was ancient.

She was sacred.

And something every Alpha in that room would bow to—whether they wanted to or not.