Reign of the Forsaken Moon - Chapter 39: Chapter 39
You are reading Reign of the Forsaken Moon, Chapter 39: Chapter 39. Read more chapters of Reign of the Forsaken Moon.
The gates of Windrest creaked open under a sky smeared with dusk. Seraphina rode at the front, her black cloak snapping in the wind, her mind a storm of fury and anticipation. Behind her, Darian’s presence was a steady heat against the chaos brewing inside her chest.
They had barely stepped across the threshold before Mira approached at a brisk pace.
“You’re just in time,” she said, glancing around. “Lucien’s already called a war council. He’s rattled.”
“Good,” Seraphina replied. “I want everyone rattled. I want them alert.”
Her fingers curled tighter around the reins. “There’s a traitor among us. And they’ve been watching everything we do.”
Eyes Behind the Mask
The council room pulsed with quiet tension.
The long table gleamed under candlelight. Familiar faces lined the benches—Kael, bruised but recovering. Mira, calm but observant. Elder Marien. Councilor Therros. And Elder Vexa… the one who had sat closest to Seraphina during the Crescent Trial.
The one with the cracked moonstone ring.
Seraphina's gaze flicked briefly to the ring. Then away.
She couldn’t act yet. Not without certainty. Not without proof.
“Windrest was nearly compromised,” she began, voice even. “Celestine knew our trial timeline, our troop movements, and the hidden guard rotation.”
A ripple moved through the room.
“And we believe the leak is internal.”
Gasps. Murmurs.
Darian stepped forward, his presence commanding. “This isn’t conjecture. The evidence was intercepted by one of our own. We’ve begun verifying it.”
Elder Marien stiffened. “Then who—?”
“We’ll find out soon,” Seraphina said coolly. “But until we do, all strategic plans will be verbal only. No more scrolls. No more maps left unattended.”
Her gaze returned to Elder Vexa. The woman offered a polite, neutral nod.
But something in her eyes didn’t match her composure.
The Bedroom Trap
Later that evening, Darian cornered Seraphina in her chamber.
“Why didn’t you call her out in there?” he asked, pressing her gently against the stone wall.
Seraphina tilted her chin defiantly, though heat bloomed at his nearness. “Because the trap has to spring itself. If I accuse her now, she’ll vanish into shadow, just like Celestine did.”
He slid a hand up her waist, fingers teasing the curve of her ribs beneath her corseted armor.
“You’re playing a dangerous game.”
“Everything I do is dangerous.”
He leaned in, brushing his lips just beneath her ear.
“Then let me be the danger you come home to.”
A shiver danced down her spine. “Careful. I might hold you to that.”
“Oh, I hope you do.”
Their mouths collided—hot, urgent, tongues tangling in a kiss that spoke of power, fire, and shared madness. His hands roamed, claiming, memorizing.
“I should be interrogating a council member,” she whispered as he lowered her onto the furs.
“And I should be reinforcing the outer wards,” he growled against her neck. “But right now, all I want is to worship my Luna.”
Secrets in the Scrolls
Afterward, still tangled in sheets and breathless from pleasure, Seraphina rolled over and stared at the ceiling.
“Vexa was the only one who asked to handle the Crescent Blade after the Trial,” she murmured.
Darian traced lazy circles along her hip. “And the only one whose quarters are next to the north tower—the one facing the messenger rookery.”
“She sent Celestine those scrolls herself. I know it.”
He sat up. “Then let’s give her a reason to show her hand.”
Seraphina smirked. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“A fake plan. Something too valuable to resist.”
“A whispered rumor,” she added. “That the Crescent Blade’s power can only be unlocked with a ritual—and that I intend to perform it tomorrow at dusk.”
“And we’ll watch who tries to stop you.”
Seraphina rolled on top of him, grinning. “See? This is why I keep you around.”
He groaned. “That and my stamina.”
She bit his lip gently. “Especially your stamina.”
The Bait
The next day, whispers filled the halls of Windrest.
Servants gossiped.
Scouts speculated.
Guards asked each other if the ritual was true.
By late afternoon, Elder Vexa requested an emergency audience.
Seraphina granted it.
They met in the solar—a quiet chamber filled with crystal light and the faint scent of lavender.
Vexa bowed. “My Luna. I hear... troubling things.”
“Oh?” Seraphina said sweetly.
“This ritual—if it goes wrong, it could corrupt the blade. Wound your soul. That kind of power is not meant to be forced.”
Seraphina arched a brow. “It’s meant to be earned. Which I’ve done.”
Vexa’s voice dropped. “And if it were a trap? Something fed to you by Celestine herself?”
Seraphina stood.
“I appreciate your concern. But the Crescent Flame answers me. Not fear. Not politics. And not the ghosts of failed advisors.”
Vexa’s eyes glittered. “Then may the Moon pity us all.”
The Reveal
That night, Seraphina stood alone in the center of the temple grounds, bathed in moonlight.
A ceremonial circle had been drawn. Candles flickered in the breeze.
And just beyond the shadows, Darian, Mira, and Kael waited—watching from hidden alcoves.
The minutes passed.
Then a rustle.
A flash of movement.
Vexa emerged from the shadows, cloaked in gray, a dagger of black iron clutched in her hand.
Seraphina didn’t move.
“I knew you couldn’t resist,” she said softly.
Vexa froze.
“You should’ve fled when you had the chance.”
Vexa snarled. “You stole the throne. You betrayed our laws.”
“I rewrote the laws.”
Seraphina drew the Crescent Blade. “And now you’ll face their judgment.”
Darian stepped out, blade drawn. Mira and Kael followed.
Vexa looked around—trapped.
“Celestine will rise,” she hissed. “With or without me.”
“No,” Seraphina said, stepping forward. “She won’t.”
She slashed once—clean, swift.
The cracked moonstone ring clattered to the floor, severed with the traitor’s hand.
Vexa collapsed, screaming, before being bound in silver chains.
Healing in the Aftermath
The next morning, Seraphina stood on her balcony wrapped in nothing but a silk robe and Darian’s arms.
“She tried to end you,” he said against her neck.
“She failed.”
He nuzzled her. “Do you ever wonder what would’ve happened if we’d met before everything? Before the blood, the betrayal, the war?”
She smiled. “I think we would’ve still ended up tangled in a bed somewhere.”
“Oh, definitely.”
They laughed.
Then kissed again—soft, slow, worshipful.
Not out of desperation.
But out of choice.
Out of hope.
And for the first time in a long time, Seraphina believed they might actually survive this.
Together.
They had barely stepped across the threshold before Mira approached at a brisk pace.
“You’re just in time,” she said, glancing around. “Lucien’s already called a war council. He’s rattled.”
“Good,” Seraphina replied. “I want everyone rattled. I want them alert.”
Her fingers curled tighter around the reins. “There’s a traitor among us. And they’ve been watching everything we do.”
Eyes Behind the Mask
The council room pulsed with quiet tension.
The long table gleamed under candlelight. Familiar faces lined the benches—Kael, bruised but recovering. Mira, calm but observant. Elder Marien. Councilor Therros. And Elder Vexa… the one who had sat closest to Seraphina during the Crescent Trial.
The one with the cracked moonstone ring.
Seraphina's gaze flicked briefly to the ring. Then away.
She couldn’t act yet. Not without certainty. Not without proof.
“Windrest was nearly compromised,” she began, voice even. “Celestine knew our trial timeline, our troop movements, and the hidden guard rotation.”
A ripple moved through the room.
“And we believe the leak is internal.”
Gasps. Murmurs.
Darian stepped forward, his presence commanding. “This isn’t conjecture. The evidence was intercepted by one of our own. We’ve begun verifying it.”
Elder Marien stiffened. “Then who—?”
“We’ll find out soon,” Seraphina said coolly. “But until we do, all strategic plans will be verbal only. No more scrolls. No more maps left unattended.”
Her gaze returned to Elder Vexa. The woman offered a polite, neutral nod.
But something in her eyes didn’t match her composure.
The Bedroom Trap
Later that evening, Darian cornered Seraphina in her chamber.
“Why didn’t you call her out in there?” he asked, pressing her gently against the stone wall.
Seraphina tilted her chin defiantly, though heat bloomed at his nearness. “Because the trap has to spring itself. If I accuse her now, she’ll vanish into shadow, just like Celestine did.”
He slid a hand up her waist, fingers teasing the curve of her ribs beneath her corseted armor.
“You’re playing a dangerous game.”
“Everything I do is dangerous.”
He leaned in, brushing his lips just beneath her ear.
“Then let me be the danger you come home to.”
A shiver danced down her spine. “Careful. I might hold you to that.”
“Oh, I hope you do.”
Their mouths collided—hot, urgent, tongues tangling in a kiss that spoke of power, fire, and shared madness. His hands roamed, claiming, memorizing.
“I should be interrogating a council member,” she whispered as he lowered her onto the furs.
“And I should be reinforcing the outer wards,” he growled against her neck. “But right now, all I want is to worship my Luna.”
Secrets in the Scrolls
Afterward, still tangled in sheets and breathless from pleasure, Seraphina rolled over and stared at the ceiling.
“Vexa was the only one who asked to handle the Crescent Blade after the Trial,” she murmured.
Darian traced lazy circles along her hip. “And the only one whose quarters are next to the north tower—the one facing the messenger rookery.”
“She sent Celestine those scrolls herself. I know it.”
He sat up. “Then let’s give her a reason to show her hand.”
Seraphina smirked. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“A fake plan. Something too valuable to resist.”
“A whispered rumor,” she added. “That the Crescent Blade’s power can only be unlocked with a ritual—and that I intend to perform it tomorrow at dusk.”
“And we’ll watch who tries to stop you.”
Seraphina rolled on top of him, grinning. “See? This is why I keep you around.”
He groaned. “That and my stamina.”
She bit his lip gently. “Especially your stamina.”
The Bait
The next day, whispers filled the halls of Windrest.
Servants gossiped.
Scouts speculated.
Guards asked each other if the ritual was true.
By late afternoon, Elder Vexa requested an emergency audience.
Seraphina granted it.
They met in the solar—a quiet chamber filled with crystal light and the faint scent of lavender.
Vexa bowed. “My Luna. I hear... troubling things.”
“Oh?” Seraphina said sweetly.
“This ritual—if it goes wrong, it could corrupt the blade. Wound your soul. That kind of power is not meant to be forced.”
Seraphina arched a brow. “It’s meant to be earned. Which I’ve done.”
Vexa’s voice dropped. “And if it were a trap? Something fed to you by Celestine herself?”
Seraphina stood.
“I appreciate your concern. But the Crescent Flame answers me. Not fear. Not politics. And not the ghosts of failed advisors.”
Vexa’s eyes glittered. “Then may the Moon pity us all.”
The Reveal
That night, Seraphina stood alone in the center of the temple grounds, bathed in moonlight.
A ceremonial circle had been drawn. Candles flickered in the breeze.
And just beyond the shadows, Darian, Mira, and Kael waited—watching from hidden alcoves.
The minutes passed.
Then a rustle.
A flash of movement.
Vexa emerged from the shadows, cloaked in gray, a dagger of black iron clutched in her hand.
Seraphina didn’t move.
“I knew you couldn’t resist,” she said softly.
Vexa froze.
“You should’ve fled when you had the chance.”
Vexa snarled. “You stole the throne. You betrayed our laws.”
“I rewrote the laws.”
Seraphina drew the Crescent Blade. “And now you’ll face their judgment.”
Darian stepped out, blade drawn. Mira and Kael followed.
Vexa looked around—trapped.
“Celestine will rise,” she hissed. “With or without me.”
“No,” Seraphina said, stepping forward. “She won’t.”
She slashed once—clean, swift.
The cracked moonstone ring clattered to the floor, severed with the traitor’s hand.
Vexa collapsed, screaming, before being bound in silver chains.
Healing in the Aftermath
The next morning, Seraphina stood on her balcony wrapped in nothing but a silk robe and Darian’s arms.
“She tried to end you,” he said against her neck.
“She failed.”
He nuzzled her. “Do you ever wonder what would’ve happened if we’d met before everything? Before the blood, the betrayal, the war?”
She smiled. “I think we would’ve still ended up tangled in a bed somewhere.”
“Oh, definitely.”
They laughed.
Then kissed again—soft, slow, worshipful.
Not out of desperation.
But out of choice.
Out of hope.
And for the first time in a long time, Seraphina believed they might actually survive this.
Together.
End of Reign of the Forsaken Moon Chapter 39. Continue reading Chapter 40 or return to Reign of the Forsaken Moon book page.