Reign of the Forsaken Moon - Chapter 43: Chapter 43

The forest of Hollowgrove was nothing like the legends—it was worse.
The trees were tall and ancient, their bark as dark as spilled ink, and their branches curled like talons toward the sky. A strange mist clung to the ground, swallowing footsteps, muffling breath. The air buzzed with a silence that felt… alive.
Seraphina stood at the edge of the grove, her Crescent Blade strapped to her back, her fingers twitching with a mix of anticipation and dread. To her left, Darian stood stone-still, scanning the treeline. To her right, Elric adjusted his worn leather bracers with casual calm—too calm.
Behind them trailed Mira and Lucien, both cloaked and prepared, their faces drawn with purpose.
“I’ve heard of cursed woods,” Mira muttered. “But this one… breathes.”
“That’s because it does,” Elric said, stepping forward. “The Hollowgrove was born from the blood of a cursed Alpha and a priestess who turned against the Moon.”
“So,” Lucien said dryly, “a lovely vacation spot, then.”
Seraphina didn’t smile.
She stepped past the threshold—and the shadows welcomed her.
The Forest of Whispers
With each step deeper into the Hollowgrove, the path behind them disappeared. Trees shifted subtly, the terrain rearranging itself like a living puzzle. Vines curled where there had been none, roots rose to snatch at boots.
And the whispers began.
Not loud.
Not clear.
But persistent.
“…Luna…”
“…blood of fire…”
“…he lies…”
“…he burns…”
“…you will betray…”
Seraphina halted, her breath catching. She turned, and all of them had heard it too.
“Don’t listen,” Elric said, voice lower now. “The grove feeds on fears and truths you don’t want to admit.”
“Truths?” Darian repeated, eyes narrowing. “Interesting word choice.”
Seraphina kept walking. “We press forward.”
The Trial of Masks
They arrived at a clearing ringed with blackened stones.
As they entered, mist coiled around them, blinding and cold.
When it cleared… they were separated.
Seraphina stood alone.
Or so she thought.
Until she turned—and saw herself.
Another Seraphina stepped from the fog, clad in regal red, her eyes glowing with gold flame.
“You,” the double said. “You pretend to be strong. But you’re afraid.”
“I’ve bled for this kingdom,” Seraphina hissed. “What do you know of fear?”
The other smiled. “That you fear losing love more than life. That deep down, you think Darian will leave you. Or worse… fall like the others did.”
Seraphina raised the Crescent Blade. “Get out of my head.”
The double laughed—and lunged.
The Battle Within
They fought in silence. Blade against blade. Strike after mirrored strike.
Every wound the double made, Seraphina felt—not on her body, but in her heart.
“I am your doubt,” the creature snarled. “Your shame. Your past. You can’t kill me.”
But Seraphina closed her eyes.
Remembered Darian’s touch.
Elric’s warning.
Her children’s laughter.
And roared, “Then I’ll change you!”
With one final arc of her blade, she cleaved the double in two—watching as flame consumed it from within.
When the mist lifted again, the clearing was whole—and the others reappeared.
Mira looked shaken. Lucien, pale.
Elric’s eyes lingered on her. “You passed.”
Seraphina nodded. “Barely.”
The River of Memory
Hours passed as they traveled deeper.
Eventually, they came upon a stream of black water cutting through the trees.
“Don’t drink,” Elric warned. “It shows you what you miss… and tempts you to stay.”
Darian peered at the water—and frowned.
“I see… Seraphina. Holding a baby. A boy. Smiling.”
Seraphina stepped beside him. “I see it too.”
Their son. Small. Laughing. Reaching for her.
Tears welled unbidden.
“Let’s keep moving,” she whispered.
But Elric knelt and touched the surface.
Seraphina turned sharply. “What do you see?”
“My past,” he said without looking up. “And every chance I threw away.”
When he stood again, something in his eyes had changed.
Regret. And resolve.
The Heart of the Grove
They reached the final chamber—a circle of ancient stones surrounding a pit of blue flame. The very air shimmered with magic. At the center stood an altar made of silverroot wood and obsidian.
“This is it,” Elric said. “Where Celestine will awaken the Hollow.”
“And where we stop her,” Seraphina said.
But as she stepped forward, a glyph flared beneath her foot.
Too late.
The ground shattered.
The team fell.
And Seraphina screamed as darkness claimed her.
The Truth Between Them
She awoke in a smaller grove—alone except for Elric.
And the tension between them was immediate.
“How did we get separated again?” she asked.
“The grove wants something from you,” Elric said. “It’s pushing.”
He stepped forward. “It wants a confession.”
She glared at him. “Of what?”
“That a part of you still wonders… what if it had been us?”
She slapped him.
Then kissed him.
Then pulled away, breathless.
“Don’t twist me, Elric. I loved you once. But Darian… he is the one I burn for now.”
Elric’s jaw clenched. “I know. And I’d die to protect that fire.”
Footsteps interrupted them—Darian burst into the grove, eyes blazing.
He saw the nearness.
The heat.
The guilt.
And said, “Do I have reason to kill him now?”
Choosing the Flame
Seraphina stepped between them.
“No,” she said. “He crossed a line. I crossed it for a heartbeat. But it ends here.”
Darian looked at her. “You promise me that?”
She took his hand and placed it on her heart. “This beats for you.”
He kissed her then—hard and deep—staking a claim not of possession, but of promise.
Elric turned away.
And said, “Let’s end this. Before the Hollow rises.”