Reign of the Forsaken Moon - Chapter 22: Chapter 22
You are reading Reign of the Forsaken Moon, Chapter 22: Chapter 22. Read more chapters of Reign of the Forsaken Moon.
Peace, she had learned, did not come softly.
It arrived like a storm’s aftermath—silence laced with broken branches, shattered walls, and the heavy scent of what had been lost.
Seraphina stood in the Moonclaw High Hall, now reconstructed from the wreckage of war. Gold and black banners hung from the towering rafters. New stone had been laid into the throne dais—each block inscribed with the name of a fallen warrior.
Kael and Lyra sat quietly at the edge of the chamber, watching their mother from beneath hoods of silken white. They had not spoken much since their rescue, not in full sentences. Their trauma was like smoke—thin, nearly invisible, but suffocating.
And Seraphina felt it.
Every moment.
Every breath.
She would never let them be taken again.
The First Council
Representatives from thirty-two packs now sat in the High Hall’s crescent gallery. Each wore their clan sigils—crescent wolves, clawed suns, runes of blood, and thorned roses. The room pulsed with restrained power.
Mira stood beside Seraphina, her robes lined with enchanted ink that shimmered like dusklight. Darian flanked her left, sword sheathed, presence solid and unreadable.
The air held tension, not hostility—but caution.
Seraphina rose from her throne, her voice calm, strong.
> “The world has changed. The war may be ending, but our enemies are not gone. Some are hidden among us. Some are us.”
Gasps. A stir of unease.
Seraphina stepped forward.
> “Before we build the future, we must speak of the past. In truth. In pain. In fire.”
And she did.
She spoke of the betrayals.
Of her death.
Of her mother’s plan.
Of the prophecy.
> “I did not choose this path. But I will walk it. And if any here think me unworthy…”
She extended her hand.
“…stand now, and face me.”
Silence.
Not one dared.
Wounds That Linger
Later, after the council dissolved, Seraphina found Kael and Lyra in the moon garden.
Kael was curled beneath a willow tree, tracing a sigil into the dirt.
Lyra watched the stars, face blank.
“They didn’t hurt us,” Lyra said suddenly.
Seraphina froze.
Lyra looked at her. “They fed us. Gave us books. Played music. Like we were guests. Not… bait.”
Seraphina knelt. “That’s what made it worse, didn’t it?”
Lyra’s eyes filled.
Kael’s drawing dissolved in a gust of wind.
“I wasn’t strong enough to protect you,” Seraphina whispered. “But I will be. From now on.”
Kael moved closer. Lyra rested her head on her mother’s shoulder.
They stayed there as the stars turned silver.
The Silent Alliance
That week, a delegation arrived from the Obsidian Coast.
Led by Alpha Nerys, a formidable woman with coal-dark skin, silver eyes, and no visible emotion.
“I come not to kneel,” she said to Seraphina. “But to stand beside you. If your path leads to balance—not dominion.”
Seraphina considered her words carefully.
“I don’t want to conquer the world,” she replied. “Only make sure no one else does.”
Nerys nodded.
“Then we are aligned.”
But later that night, Mira found a hidden cipher etched into Nerys’s chamber wall.
A message written in bloodroot ink:
> The child is marked. She will burn everything.
It was signed with a symbol Seraphina hadn’t seen in decades.
A spiral sun wrapped in serpents.
The Cult of the Pale Flame.
The Cult Awakens
Long believed extinct, the Cult of the Pale Flame had once worshipped the original fire-wolves—the godlike shifters who descended during the Age of Embers.
Their doctrine:
Only through fire can the world be made pure.
They believed Seraphina was their messiah.
Or their weapon.
Maybe both.
As news of her rise spread across continents, cult remnants stirred—calling themselves Ashborn.
They infiltrated packs.
They spread prophecy.
And they waited.
Mira slammed her palms on the war table.
“We need to crush them now. Before they infect the unity you’ve built.”
Seraphina’s gaze darkened.
“No,” she said. “Let them gather.”
Darian frowned. “Why?”
“Because,” Seraphina said, “I want them all in one place when I burn them.”
A Mother's Burden
That night, Seraphina couldn’t sleep.
Kael had started whispering in his sleep again—words in a tongue no one taught him.
Ancient. Rhythmic. Burned into his blood.
Lyra had begun glowing faintly beneath moonlight—her veins tracing lunar sigils.
Mira feared they were manifesting traits of an old bloodline—one that predated even the Alpha Kings.
Darian joined her in the observatory, silent at first.
Then: “You can’t protect them from everything.”
“I know,” Seraphina whispered. “But I’ll die trying.”
He wrapped his arms around her.
“You’ve already died once,” he said. “Don’t do it again.”
Stormclouds Ahead
The next morning, a raven landed in the courtyard with a single scroll.
It bore the crest of the Northern Wilds—a kingdom long cut off by blizzard and blood.
It read:
> “He is waking. The Wyrm sleeps no longer.
The snow will bleed, and the sky will split.
The Queen of Flame must come.
Or all will burn.”
Seraphina looked to the horizon.
A new war was stirring.
One not born of politics or prophecy…
…but of ancient hunger.
It arrived like a storm’s aftermath—silence laced with broken branches, shattered walls, and the heavy scent of what had been lost.
Seraphina stood in the Moonclaw High Hall, now reconstructed from the wreckage of war. Gold and black banners hung from the towering rafters. New stone had been laid into the throne dais—each block inscribed with the name of a fallen warrior.
Kael and Lyra sat quietly at the edge of the chamber, watching their mother from beneath hoods of silken white. They had not spoken much since their rescue, not in full sentences. Their trauma was like smoke—thin, nearly invisible, but suffocating.
And Seraphina felt it.
Every moment.
Every breath.
She would never let them be taken again.
The First Council
Representatives from thirty-two packs now sat in the High Hall’s crescent gallery. Each wore their clan sigils—crescent wolves, clawed suns, runes of blood, and thorned roses. The room pulsed with restrained power.
Mira stood beside Seraphina, her robes lined with enchanted ink that shimmered like dusklight. Darian flanked her left, sword sheathed, presence solid and unreadable.
The air held tension, not hostility—but caution.
Seraphina rose from her throne, her voice calm, strong.
> “The world has changed. The war may be ending, but our enemies are not gone. Some are hidden among us. Some are us.”
Gasps. A stir of unease.
Seraphina stepped forward.
> “Before we build the future, we must speak of the past. In truth. In pain. In fire.”
And she did.
She spoke of the betrayals.
Of her death.
Of her mother’s plan.
Of the prophecy.
> “I did not choose this path. But I will walk it. And if any here think me unworthy…”
She extended her hand.
“…stand now, and face me.”
Silence.
Not one dared.
Wounds That Linger
Later, after the council dissolved, Seraphina found Kael and Lyra in the moon garden.
Kael was curled beneath a willow tree, tracing a sigil into the dirt.
Lyra watched the stars, face blank.
“They didn’t hurt us,” Lyra said suddenly.
Seraphina froze.
Lyra looked at her. “They fed us. Gave us books. Played music. Like we were guests. Not… bait.”
Seraphina knelt. “That’s what made it worse, didn’t it?”
Lyra’s eyes filled.
Kael’s drawing dissolved in a gust of wind.
“I wasn’t strong enough to protect you,” Seraphina whispered. “But I will be. From now on.”
Kael moved closer. Lyra rested her head on her mother’s shoulder.
They stayed there as the stars turned silver.
The Silent Alliance
That week, a delegation arrived from the Obsidian Coast.
Led by Alpha Nerys, a formidable woman with coal-dark skin, silver eyes, and no visible emotion.
“I come not to kneel,” she said to Seraphina. “But to stand beside you. If your path leads to balance—not dominion.”
Seraphina considered her words carefully.
“I don’t want to conquer the world,” she replied. “Only make sure no one else does.”
Nerys nodded.
“Then we are aligned.”
But later that night, Mira found a hidden cipher etched into Nerys’s chamber wall.
A message written in bloodroot ink:
> The child is marked. She will burn everything.
It was signed with a symbol Seraphina hadn’t seen in decades.
A spiral sun wrapped in serpents.
The Cult of the Pale Flame.
The Cult Awakens
Long believed extinct, the Cult of the Pale Flame had once worshipped the original fire-wolves—the godlike shifters who descended during the Age of Embers.
Their doctrine:
Only through fire can the world be made pure.
They believed Seraphina was their messiah.
Or their weapon.
Maybe both.
As news of her rise spread across continents, cult remnants stirred—calling themselves Ashborn.
They infiltrated packs.
They spread prophecy.
And they waited.
Mira slammed her palms on the war table.
“We need to crush them now. Before they infect the unity you’ve built.”
Seraphina’s gaze darkened.
“No,” she said. “Let them gather.”
Darian frowned. “Why?”
“Because,” Seraphina said, “I want them all in one place when I burn them.”
A Mother's Burden
That night, Seraphina couldn’t sleep.
Kael had started whispering in his sleep again—words in a tongue no one taught him.
Ancient. Rhythmic. Burned into his blood.
Lyra had begun glowing faintly beneath moonlight—her veins tracing lunar sigils.
Mira feared they were manifesting traits of an old bloodline—one that predated even the Alpha Kings.
Darian joined her in the observatory, silent at first.
Then: “You can’t protect them from everything.”
“I know,” Seraphina whispered. “But I’ll die trying.”
He wrapped his arms around her.
“You’ve already died once,” he said. “Don’t do it again.”
Stormclouds Ahead
The next morning, a raven landed in the courtyard with a single scroll.
It bore the crest of the Northern Wilds—a kingdom long cut off by blizzard and blood.
It read:
> “He is waking. The Wyrm sleeps no longer.
The snow will bleed, and the sky will split.
The Queen of Flame must come.
Or all will burn.”
Seraphina looked to the horizon.
A new war was stirring.
One not born of politics or prophecy…
…but of ancient hunger.
End of Reign of the Forsaken Moon Chapter 22. Continue reading Chapter 23 or return to Reign of the Forsaken Moon book page.