Reign of the Forsaken Moon - Chapter 49: Chapter 49

The Moon Court’s torches flickered as dusk fell upon Windrest. The wind that swept through the palace walls felt colder than usual, laced with the hush of conspiracy.
Seraphina stood on the balcony outside her chamber, cloaked in a silken robe, the moonlight dancing across her skin. Her Hollow mark pulsed faintly beneath her sleeve, but she ignored it. Her mind was elsewhere—locked in the weight of the coming final trial.
The Rite of Wisdom was not about blood or blade.
It was about truth.
Choices.
And secrets.
Behind her, Darian approached with two goblets of moonflower wine. “You’re not sleeping again,” he said gently, handing her one.
Seraphina sipped without looking away. “I can’t afford dreams right now.”
He stepped closer, his presence like a blanket of calm behind her. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” she said, finally turning to him. “I want to know who the spy is.”
Darian blinked. “You think there’s someone in the court working for Alaric?”
She nodded. “No… I know it.”
Whispers in the Dark
Later that night, Mira joined Seraphina in the Hall of Archives. The room smelled of parchment and age, the glow of ancient stones casting blue shadows across the bookshelves.
“Lucien’s gone,” Mira said grimly.
“What do you mean gone?”
“Vanished. Before dawn. Took nothing. Left no message.”
Seraphina’s blood turned cold.
Lucien—her brother in arms, her protector during her darkest hour—gone? Now?
“He’s the traitor?” she asked, hoping Mira would say no.
“I don’t think so,” Mira said. “He wouldn’t vanish like that unless… he had something to hide. Or something to protect.”
Seraphina clenched her jaw. “Either way, it means trouble.”
Council of the Unbroken
The next morning, Seraphina called a closed meeting in the War Room.
Present were Mira, Elric, Darian, and two trusted captains of the guard.
“The Rite of Wisdom begins in less than forty-eight hours,” she said. “And Alaric’s setting the stage already. He’s playing the long game.”
“What does the rite entail?” Mira asked.
“It’s different for each Luna,” Elric answered. “For her, I suspect it’ll be a political trial. A judgment of leadership. A test not just of logic—but moral compass.”
Seraphina nodded. “Which means any misstep will be seen as weakness.”
Darian asked, “Then how do we prepare for a battle we can’t fight with blades?”
“We play his game,” she said. “And beat him at it.”
A Dangerous Discovery
That afternoon, Seraphina wandered the outer courtyards under the guise of solitude. In truth, she followed a hunch—a scent of ash and sage she’d picked up near her chambers two nights before.
It led her to the east wing.
To the old Prayer Hall.
Inside, the moonlight streamed through fractured stained glass. Dust coated the floor. And behind the altar, hidden beneath a broken slab of stone—
—a communication crystal. Shadow-forged.
With Alaric’s crest etched on its side.
Her heart thudded.
Someone close to her had been feeding him information.
Someone within her walls.
Suddenly, footsteps.
She turned fast—blade drawn.
And found Elric standing in the doorway.
The Confrontation
“I followed the same trail,” he said calmly. “You’re not the only one who noticed something foul.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, blade lowering only slightly.
“Because I wasn’t sure it wasn’t you, Seraphina.”
She froze.
He stepped forward. “The Hollow mark. The surge of Void power. It’s starting to change you. And I’ve seen good rulers become tyrants for less.”
“I didn’t choose the Hollow,” she said coldly. “But I’ll master it. Not surrender to it.”
Elric held her gaze a moment longer—then nodded. “Then we burn the crystal.”
She handed it to him.
Together, they shattered it under the moonlight.
But trust, once cracked, did not mend so easily.
The Night Before
That evening, Seraphina sat at the edge of her bed, brushing her fingers over the length of her blade.
Darian entered, watching her in silence.
“You don’t have to face this alone,” he said.
“I do,” she whispered. “The Rite is mine.”
He stepped forward. “Then let me make tonight yours too.”
She turned to him—eyes soft, tired. “You always know how to bring me back.”
Their kiss was slow this time. Deep. Lingering.
Clothes slipped away. His hands traced the old scars on her back like paths in the dark. She gasped as he moved against her, in her, with her—heat rising between them like a tide.
“I love you,” he whispered against her throat.
“And I choose you,” she replied, lips brushing his. “Every time.”
They didn’t speak again until sleep claimed them both.
The Day of Wisdom
The courtyard had been transformed once more.
The Trial of Wisdom would not be physical. Instead, Seraphina and Alaric would face a panel of elders, respond to high-stakes hypotheticals, and resolve a live dispute brought by members of the court.
It was meant to judge fairness, insight, control.
Darian stood just outside the trial circle, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword—but his eyes never left Seraphina’s.
Alaric was dressed in sleek white ceremonial robes, smiling like a saint.
She was dressed in black—regal and sharp, with silver embroidery shaped like rising flames.
The first trial was verbal.
A land dispute.
She resolved it quickly—compassion and strength entwined in her words.
The second—a betrayal case.
She advocated mercy, but demanded consequence.
Then came the final question.
And the elder turned to her with eyes like ice.
“If your fated mate committed treason… would you spare him?”
Silence.
Alaric smirked.
The court leaned forward.
Darian’s breath caught.
Seraphina raised her chin.
“If my mate betrayed me,” she said, voice clear, “he would already know he had lost my heart. Because betrayal is not a mistake—it is a choice. And those who choose to break trust must live with the ashes.”
The crowd murmured.
And Darian’s shoulders slumped—in relief.
Because he knew she hadn’t meant him.
She meant everyone else who had left her behind.
The Final Word
When the votes were cast and the results announced, the Trial Master stepped forward.
“The court has spoken. The Rite of Wisdom has concluded.”
He turned to Seraphina.
And bowed.
“Luna Seraphina… you are the rightful Queen of the Moonlands.”
Cheers erupted.
Mira screamed in victory.
Elric exhaled in relief.
Darian pushed through the crowd to embrace her.
And across the chamber, Alaric turned away—
His face pale with rage.
But far from finished.