Reign of the Forsaken Moon - Chapter 45: Chapter 45

The stairwell descended into the earth like the throat of some ancient beast, narrow and winding, carved from obsidian and bone. With every step, the air grew colder, heavier. The light from their torches dimmed as though the shadows themselves swallowed it.
Seraphina led the way, her grip firm on the Crescent Blade. Darian followed close behind her, his hand brushing hers with every downward step, a silent reminder: I’m still here.
Elric, Mira, and Lucien brought up the rear, their eyes sharp and wary. The tension between them all was thicker than the mist curling along the steps.
At the base of the descent, the stairwell opened into a vast cavern—lit not by torches, but by veins of silver light pulsing through the black stone walls.
A throne stood at the center.
But no one sat upon it.
Yet the air thrummed with presence.
The Voice in the Dark
“I was beginning to wonder,” came a voice—low, ancient, and resonant. “If my daughter would ever come home.”
Seraphina froze.
The others raised their weapons, eyes darting across the chamber.
A figure emerged from the shadowed arch behind the throne. No face. No form. A shifting cloak of ash and stars, vaguely humanoid—but pulsing with power older than any Alpha or Luna.
“Who are you?” she demanded, voice steady.
“You know me,” the figure replied. “You have always known. I am the Hollow One. The first Alpha. The true blood that flows in your veins.”
“You’re not my father,” she spat.
“You carry my power,” he said. “Born of fire, reborn through shadow. Your soul was tempered in my flame. And now… you’ve come to take your place at my side.”
The Truth of Rebirth
“Lies,” Darian growled, stepping forward. “She died with honor. She rose by will. Not because of you.”
But the Hollow One only turned his head toward him.
“You love her,” he said softly. “But do you know her? All of her?”
Seraphina’s breath hitched.
“Enough riddles,” she snapped. “Tell me the truth. Why did I survive?”
“You died in flame, your soul shattered,” he said. “But your body was claimed by the Void Flame—magic older than the Moon, buried beneath your kingdom. Celestine harnessed it, thinking to control you.”
“But instead,” he murmured, “you became more than she ever dreamed. A daughter of both Moon and Void.”
Seraphina’s hands trembled.
“So I was forged in her darkness… and your shadow?”
“Yes,” the Hollow One said. “And that makes you powerful. Unstoppable.”
“No,” she whispered. “It makes me haunted.”
The Rift Between
Darian stepped beside her, wrapping an arm protectively around her shoulders.
“You are not what he says,” he whispered. “You’re you. The woman who led her people from ruin. Who kissed me back even when she was broken. Who loved her children with every breath.”
Elric, watching, finally spoke. “But if what he says is true, she’s something else too. She’s the bridge. Between light and dark. Between what was and what could destroy us.”
“You speak as though I’m a threat,” Seraphina said tightly.
“Not to me,” Elric said. “But to yourself.”
The Marking
The Hollow One extended a hand toward her. A small orb of light hovered in his palm—black at the core, silver at the edges.
“Touch it,” he said. “And see.”
Seraphina stepped forward.
“No!” Darian barked. “It’s a trap—”
But she silenced him with a look. “If I don’t understand who I am, how can I fight what’s coming?”
Her fingers brushed the orb.
A scream erupted—not from her—but within her.
Images tore through her mind:
A cradle in the dark.
Celestine chanting over her infant form.
The Void Flame, licking at her soul.
Her death.
Her rebirth.
But the most horrifying image was yet to come
Her standing at the head of a black army. Her eyes empty. Her hands dripping with blood. Darian’s blood.
“No!” she screamed, tearing her hand back.
The orb shattered into ash.
And on her palm, a crescent mark glowed—faint and silver.
The Judgment
Darian caught her as she stumbled.
“You saw something,” he said. “Tell me.”
“I… I saw a future,” she whispered. “One where I lose everything. Even you.”
“Then it won’t happen,” he said firmly. “Because I won’t let it.”
The Hollow One watched them quietly.
“You still resist,” he said. “Good. I have no use for puppets. Only for those willing to embrace what they are.”
“I’m not yours,” Seraphina said, rising to her feet.
“I never said you were,” he replied. “But you will be tested. And when the Moon turns red… you must choose. Light. Or Shadow.”
And then he vanished.
The Aftermath
Silence returned to the chamber.
The light faded.
The cavern grew still.
“What does it mean?” Mira asked.
Lucien replied grimly, “It means the prophecy isn’t over. It’s beginning.”
Seraphina stared at the mark on her palm.
“I carry both,” she said. “The flame… and the hollow.”
“And we’ll carry you,” Darian said softly, pulling her into his arms.
She didn’t resist.
Steamy Reassurance
That night, back in the safety of the encampment beyond the grove, Seraphina sat by the fire, staring into the embers.
Darian approached from behind, wrapping a fur around her shoulders.
“You’re too quiet,” he said.
She turned. “I’m afraid.”
He cupped her face. “Of what?”
“That I won’t be able to stop what’s inside me.”
“Then I’ll stop it with you,” he said.
He pulled her into his lap, kissing her slowly—deeply.
Their mouths moved together, hungry and familiar.
He pulled her into the tent, hands trailing her curves, undressing her like a prayer.
Their lovemaking was slower this time—like a vow.
Every touch was a promise.
Every breath, a defiance of fate.
And when she cried out his name, he whispered hers like a shield.
“Seraphina,” he said, forehead to hers. “No prophecy, no god, no Hollow will ever take you from me.”