Reign of the Forsaken Moon - Chapter 26: Chapter 26

Even after victory, the forest still whispered.
It should have been a time of celebration—of rebuilding and healing. Seraphina had reclaimed Windrest Keep and stood once more as Luna of Lycanthria. Her people praised her name in chants that echoed through the silver woods. But even in peace, she could not rest. Victory had a way of casting long shadows.
Each night, the air grew heavier with a presence she could not name. Dreams lingered in her mind long after waking—visions of fire-touched skies, wolves screaming in the night, and gates clawing their way open to bleed across the earth.
And still, the wind whispered her name like a prayer. Or a warning.
The Raven Seer’s Arrival
She came barefoot, as always. Her robe trailed mud and forest moss, and her hair was tangled with crow feathers and iron beads. Her arrival was never announced, but no one dared question it—not even Seraphina.
The Raven Seer entered the grand hall as the final rays of twilight filtered through the stained-glass windows. Her eyes were wild with trance and storm.
“I saw the trial,” she rasped, collapsing onto her knees before the throne. “But that… was not the true test.”
Seraphina descended the steps with urgency. “What do you mean?”
The Seer reached into her cloak and pulled out a curved shard of obsidian, etched in deep, ancient runes that seemed to writhe and flicker.
“The fire-born was only the shadow. The true flame lies beneath what even gods have forgotten. A door… sealed by blood. Awakened by death.”
Seraphina took the shard. Her fingers tingled with dark magic.
“The gate,” she whispered.
Flickers in the Veil
Later that night, the shard pulsed on her bedside table like a heartbeat.
Mira entered with quiet steps. “The eastern glade trembled again. The wards flared for only a second.”
“Internal interference?” Seraphina asked.
Mira nodded. “Or something trying to emerge.”
Kael, her commander, arrived minutes later with scouts’ reports. “Three border wolves are missing. No blood. No scent trail. Just... gone.”
“And the moon?” Seraphina asked.
“Clouded. Every night this week.”
She looked toward the balcony. The full moon had always comforted her—but now it seemed distant. Dim.
The Return
It was past midnight when the presence crept into the castle.
Seraphina, drawn by a whisper only she could hear, wandered to the west wing. The long-forgotten corridor was lined with faded portraits of past Lunas and Alphas, their golden eyes dim in the torchlight.
She paused at the last archway. The scent hit her first.
Sandalwood. Storm. Iron.
She turned—and time fractured.
Lucien Virethorn stood there, cloaked in midnight. His eyes were silver lightning. His smirk was exactly as she remembered—dangerous, proud, and carved by love lost.
Her breath caught.
“I thought you were dead.”
“I was,” he said, stepping into the light. “Until you returned. I followed the thread of your soul back through the Veil.”
“You followed my soul?”
He nodded, gaze burning. “And it led me here. To you.”
The Sting of the Past
Seraphina stepped back. She could feel her heart racing—her wolf stirring beneath her skin in recognition.
“You left me,” she whispered. “You abandoned me when I needed you most.”
“I was cursed. Banished from this plane. Not even the gods could hear me.”
She searched his face for lies—but found only pain. Familiar. Real.
“You’ve changed,” she said.
“So have you.”
Silence fell. The air between them hummed with tension. Memory. Unspoken longing.
“Why are you really here, Lucien?”
He stepped closer, just enough to feel his presence.
“I came to warn you. The gate isn’t just stirring. It’s awakening. And only the Twice-Born Luna can decide what happens next.”
A Clash of Alphas
Darian had followed her scent out of instinct—but what he saw in the library ignited a wildfire in his blood.
Seraphina. Alone. Lucien standing too close. Her smile… one he hadn’t seen in weeks.
The growl escaped before he could stop it.
“Step away from her.”
Lucien turned slowly, grinning. “Ah. The current Alpha.”
“And you’re the past,” Darian said flatly.
They stood toe to toe, tension crackling like lightning. Their wolves coiled beneath the surface.
Seraphina stepped between them, fire flickering in her palms.
> “This is my court. You will not tear it apart with ego and old wounds.”
Lucien bowed slightly.
Darian did not.
Night Conversations
Later, Seraphina found Darian training alone in the courtyard, his fists bloodied from striking the obsidian post.
“You’re angry,” she said.
“I’m… threatened,” he admitted. “Not because of Lucien’s strength. But because I see how you looked at him.”
“I looked at him the way I used to. Before I died. Before you.”
He turned, fury in his eyes giving way to something more vulnerable.
“I won’t lose you,” he said. “Not to the past. Not to prophecy. Not even to fate.”
She stepped into his arms. “You won’t.”
And when he kissed her, it wasn’t possessive—it was a promise.