Reign of the Forsaken Moon - Chapter 35: Chapter 35

The fire was visible before the messenger arrived.
Bright against the midnight sky, the smoke rose in plumes that turned the moon a sickly shade of crimson. It curled over the treetops like a serpent and blotted out the stars. Windrest’s guards, stationed high in the watchtowers, began to howl—sharp, warning cries that echoed through the mountains.
Seraphina jolted awake, instinct flaring like a blade drawn in the dark. Darian was already on his feet, shirt half-buttoned, sword in hand.
“What is it?” she asked.
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he moved to the balcony and stared into the distant glow.
“Stormfen,” he said grimly. “They’ve been hit.”
Ashes and Oaths
By morning, the council chamber was filled with the stench of smoke and rage. Alpha Rynn, bruised and bleeding, stood at the center. His once-proud silver armor was scorched, and his left arm hung uselessly at his side.
“They came through the Veil,” he rasped. “Not from the roads. Not from any realm we know. They walked through spirit, shadow, and flame.”
Seraphina's heart pounded. “Celestine’s doing?”
“Who else?” Rynn said. “She sent them—those beasts with hollow eyes and molten claws. They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to. They just tore through us.”
“How many did you lose?” Mira asked, voice tight.
“Too many.”
Rynn’s eyes met Seraphina’s. “We’ll stay. We’ll fight. But understand this, Luna: she’s not fighting to win land. She’s fighting to destroy everything that remembers you.”
An Old Wound Reopened
As the council dispersed, Seraphina remained seated.
Mira and Kael tried to speak, but she waved them away. Only Darian stayed, silent.
She finally looked at him.
“She sent that fire as a message.”
“Yes,” he said.
“She wants me to remember.”
He knelt before her, his fingers lacing through hers. “Then give her what she wants. Remember. And then burn her for it.”
Seraphina closed her eyes.
And the memories came.
Celestine—taller, older, eyes like frozen night. A girl raised on prophecy and punishment. They had trained together once, laughed under the old moon trees, bled in the same combat rings.
Until Celestine’s ambition twisted into poison.
Until the night she attempted to steal the Crescent Blade.
Until Seraphina stopped her—and their bloodline fractured forever.
The Crescent Blade
That evening, Seraphina descended into the hidden vault beneath Windrest—a chamber known only to the Luna line.
The air was cool, heavy with enchantment. At the very end of the chamber, encased in crystal, lay the Crescent Blade—a weapon forged by the Moon Goddess herself, passed only to Lunas deemed worthy in times of cataclysm.
Seraphina placed her hand against the seal.
The crystal hissed, then shattered into mist.
The blade slid into her hand like it remembered her grip.
Silver, curved like the waxing moon, and pulsing with ancient warmth.
“It’s time,” she whispered.
Behind her, Darian spoke. “You’ll have to claim the right formally.”
“I will.”
“And the packs will challenge it.”
“Let them.”
The Silent Betrayal
Just before midnight, as the wind howled low and distant drums beat at the edge of the realm, a scout was brought to her chambers.
He was young. Shaking. Blood smeared across his throat and cloak.
“I was stationed on the North Watch,” he whispered. “Lady Celestine’s army... they’ve already crossed into Frost Hollow.”
Seraphina blinked. “That’s impossible. We would’ve seen them.”
“They used the old tunnels beneath the mountains. Forgotten by most. But someone inside Windrest showed them the way.”
A beat of silence.
“Who?” Darian asked.
The boy hesitated. “The sigil they bore… it was Windrest’s. Our own crest, worn over their cloaks.”
A traitor. Again.
But this time… someone close.
A Bitter Choice
At dawn, Seraphina called a closed council.
“We have a traitor feeding her information,” she said. “Someone within these walls.”
Darian added, “We believe they provided her with access to Frost Hollow through the tunnels.”
Kael's jaw clenched. “But only two people knew of those tunnels besides us.”
Seraphina nodded. “And one of them was—”
“Elder Mora.”
The name fell like a blade.
Mira stood slowly. “She helped you reclaim the court.”
“She also helped bind the eastern wards,” Kael added. “And was one of the few to oppose the interrogation order.”
Darian’s expression hardened. “Bring her in. Quietly. No alarm.”
The Confrontation
Elder Mora was found in the temple garden, hands covered in ash from the sacred fire.
She didn’t resist.
Didn’t plead.
Just looked at Seraphina with pity.
“You were never meant to rule twice,” she said as guards encircled her. “Once was enough.”
“You’ve been feeding her?” Seraphina asked.
“I’ve been preserving our legacy. You shamed it with resurrection, consorting with cursed blood, and now wielding forbidden blades.”
“You could’ve spoken.”
“You wouldn’t have listened.”
“I would’ve listened to anything but treason.”
Elder Mora smiled.
“That’s the thing about faith. It doesn’t survive second chances.”
Bound in Flame
Elder Mora was placed under house arrest in the sanctified cells—where betrayal was contained not by locks, but by spells of memory and truth.
Her confession was enough to confirm what Seraphina feared: the old lines of dissent never vanished. They just grew quiet, like coals in ash, waiting for the right wind.
Celestine was that wind.
Later, as the fortress settled under a heavy sky, Seraphina stood once more at the edge of Windrest’s outer wall. Darian joined her, silent as ever.
She turned to him.
“We lose another piece of ourselves every time we survive, don’t we?”
He nodded. “But we build something stronger with what’s left.”
She leaned against him.
“I want her to bleed.”
“She will.”
“And when this is over… I want peace.”
“You’ll have it,” he promised.
But even as he said the words, they both knew peace would come at a price no one had yet dared name.
In the Black of Night
Far from Windrest, in the heart of her growing dominion, Celestine watched her darkened mirror ripple with visions of fire, wolves, and rebellion.
Mora’s betrayal had been delivered.
Stormfen had fallen.
And Windrest… would soon follow.
She turned to her army.
“Prepare the spirits,” she whispered. “The Crescent Blade has awakened.
But the moon will bow to me… or break beneath my crown.”