Reign of the Forsaken Moon - Chapter 30: Chapter 30

The flames had barely died.
Smoke still curled from the edges of Windrest Keep, ghosting through broken arches and fractured runes like mourners at a funeral. The wards had held for centuries, pulsing with the ancient protection of the Moon Goddess herself—but now, they lay dormant, scattered in shattered stone and ash.
And in their place, a single word repeated across the court in hushed tones.
Sabotage.
Shattered Trust
Seraphina walked the corridor alone, her boots leaving soot prints behind. She passed two young sentries who stiffened and averted their eyes—once, they would’ve bowed.
But now?
Now she saw doubt in every glance. Heard hesitation in every breath.
Not long ago, she’d returned from death a savior. Now, they whispered of curses, broken wards, and the return of her former lover.
She paused at the entrance to the High Council chamber. From beyond the closed doors, voices rose—anxious, bitter.
> “Her presence draws darkness—” “—Lucien's blood poisoned the stone—” “—the Twice-Born is the reason the Gate stirs!”
Her hand balled into a fist.
They had cheered when she reclaimed Windrest. Sworn fealty. Promised loyalty.
But the scent of fear… changed everything.
Beneath the Throne
Darian knelt in the broken ward circle, fingers brushing the grooves in the stone. Kael and Mira stood behind him, silent.
“This sigil wasn’t just ruptured,” Darian said. “It was unwoven. Someone knew its language.”
Mira added, “The style is old. Ritualistic. Whoever did this had access to sacred warding records.”
“Which narrows it to...?” Kael asked.
“A dozen high-ranking officials,” Mira replied grimly.
“Not just officials,” Darian muttered. “Someone Seraphina trusted.”
He stood, brushing soot from his hands. “Begin discreet interrogations. No one knows but us. No accusations until we’re certain.”
Kael nodded. “And Seraphina?”
Darian’s jaw tightened. “She doesn’t need more ghosts tonight.”
Midnight Ghosts
That evening, Seraphina stood by the sacred pool, the Moonlight Mirror. The waters reflected not only her face, but her wolf’s—a fierce creature with eyes full of sorrow.
She closed her eyes.
Moon Mother... guide me. Show me who I can trust.
The water stirred.
And in it, she saw Lucien, kneeling before a shadowed altar, his hands drenched in his own blood. The Obsidian shard hovered above his palms like a predator, pulsing. Whispers curled around him, invisible but sharp.
Then the vision shifted—Darian in a hidden chamber, laying a rune-marked blade atop a sealed box. His expression was hard. Determined.
And behind him, a blurred figure… watching.
Seraphina’s eyes flew open.
“What are you both hiding from me?” she whispered.
The Weight of Love
Later that night, she found Darian in the north wing.
“You were going to confront me,” she said, voice cool.
He turned, brows furrowing. “About what?”
“You’ve been investigating the sabotage without telling me.”
His face softened. “To protect you.”
“Or to control me?”
He sighed and stepped closer. “Seraphina… I’ve fought battles most men couldn’t survive. I’ve bled, killed, and crawled through the depths of despair. But none of that scared me like losing you.”
Her anger faltered. But she did not let it fall entirely.
“You should have told me. We lead together—or we fall.”
“I know.” His voice cracked. “But if Lucien tries to take you again—”
> “He can’t. Because I’ve already made my choice.”
She reached up, touched his jaw, and leaned in slowly. Their kiss this time was not born of fury or possession—but something raw, tender, vulnerable.
Darian pulled her against him. “Then whatever comes next—we face it together.”
In the Dark
At the very edge of Windrest, beyond the moonlit treeline, a figure in ceremonial robes knelt before a blackened obelisk buried in the dirt.
The air shimmered. The ground trembled.
A voice—not human, not wolf—rose from the earth.
> “The gate stirs. The Luna resists.
But the bond has begun.”
The robed figure drew a dagger, carving a rune into their arm, watching the blood spill onto the stone.
> “The court is already breaking. The Alpha doubts. The lover returns.
Soon… she will fall again.”
A cruel, hushed laugh.
And the figure whispered, “I await your command, my lord.”