Reign of the Forsaken Moon - Chapter 11: Chapter 11

The nightmares began the night after the Hollowfen raid.
Seraphina woke drenched in sweat, her breath ragged, heart pounding like war drums.
She had seen Lyra and Kael again—but this time, their faces were twisted. Hollow eyes. Bleeding mouths. Reaching toward her with clawed hands.
> “You let us burn, Mother…”
She screamed in her sleep, the sound silenced by the spell-muffled stone of her chamber walls.
Darian was already at her bedside.
“You felt it too?” he asked, voice tense.
She nodded. “It wasn’t just a dream. Something’s awake… Something’s watching me.”
The next morning, Mira, the camp’s healer and Seer, read the omens by the sacred pool. The water turned to ink as soon as Seraphina touched it.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Mira whispered. “The Devourer... it’s more than a curse. It’s a being. A god of hunger. Thorne’s feeding it with the souls of the fallen.”
Seraphina clenched her fists.
“How do I stop it?”
Mira hesitated. “You may not be able to.”
Seraphina’s eyes flared silver. “Then I’ll unmake it.”
Elsewhere – Deep Below the Earth
In a pit lined with bones and ancient obsidian, the Devourer stirred.
It had no face. No shape. Only eyes. Thousands of glowing eyes blinking in and out of darkness.
Thorne stood at the edge, chanting in a tongue stolen from the dead.
Beside him stood his latest creation.
She looked just like Seraphina—but twisted. Taller. Paler. With hair black as night and silver tattoos carved into her skin like a living war spell.
Her name was Shael.
A mirror Luna.
Born of Seraphina’s own blood, stolen before her death and kept hidden in Thorne’s vaults.
“Go,” Thorne whispered. “Find her. Break her. Become her.”
Shael bowed and vanished in a gust of shadow.
Back at Ashfang
A raven landed on the war table mid-council meeting, bleeding from the eyes. Its talons held a torn piece of Seraphina’s old cloak—one she hadn’t worn in years.
The message was burned into its feathers with dark magic:
> “What is twice born… can die twice.”
Everyone at the table turned to Seraphina.
Her expression was carved from steel.
“This is fear,” she said coldly. “He’s afraid of me. So now he sends shadows.”
Later that night, she stood alone at the Moonstone Cliff, overlooking the forest where her children once played.
Darian approached but said nothing.
She spoke without looking at him. “I dreamt of Lyra last night. She was bleeding shadows.”
“She’s calling to you,” Darian said. “Warning you.”
Seraphina turned. “What if I’m too late? What if the Devourer has already eaten their souls?”
Darian stepped closer. “Then we bring the sky down on it and tear them free.”
A moment of silence passed between them. Raw. Honest.
Then he added, “You’re not alone anymore, Seraphina. We stand. Together.”
She met his gaze.
And for the first time since her death… she believed it.
In the Night…
Shael crossed the wardlines without triggering a single glyph.
She moved like smoke, eyes glowing with corrupted moonl
ight.
She entered Seraphina’s tent.
Watched her sleep.
And whispered:
> “Soon… I will wear your skin.”