Reign of the Forsaken Moon - Chapter 50: Chapter 50

The sky above Windrest glowed with a golden dawn.
Trumpets echoed from the towers. Petals fell from the terraces, carried by the breeze as the capital awoke to celebration. The streets overflowed with wolves and humans alike—nobles, commoners, merchants, and warriors—gathered to witness the rise of their Twice-Born Queen.
Seraphina stood in the grand vestibule of the Moon Palace, her breath shallow as Mira fastened the last clasp of her ceremonial armor. Silver-plated pauldrons rested on her shoulders, etched with runes of rebirth. Her cloak was deep crimson, trimmed in black velvet, the crest of her fallen house blazing across her back—phoenix and crescent, fire and moon.
“You look like vengeance,” Mira said with a grin.
“I feel like justice,” Seraphina replied.
Mira stepped back. “Then go remind them what it means to rise.”
The doors swung open.
And the Queen walked through.
The Coronation
The coronation platform had been erected in the heart of the Moon Court’s plaza. Four banners fluttered at its corners—Fire, Moon, Hollow, and Wolf—signifying Seraphina’s trials and her victories.
The high seer of Windrest stood waiting, flanked by elders from the four founding clans.
Seraphina ascended the steps slowly, eyes locked ahead, the weight of history pressing on every step.
Darian stood at the base of the dais in his ceremonial Alpha regalia, his gaze proud and unwavering. The moment her eyes found his, her nerves melted away.
She had already fought for this.
Now she would claim it.
The seer raised his staff. “We gather under the Watchful Moon to witness the crowning of the Luna who rose from ashes. The Queen who was broken and reforged. Seraphina Vael—do you accept the burden of rule?”
“I do.”
“Do you swear to protect the Moonlands, in peace and in war, through wisdom and strength?”
“I do.”
“Then kneel.”
Seraphina dropped to one knee.
And the seer placed the Crown of the Crescent Flame—once her mother’s, thought lost in the fires of betrayal—upon her brow.
“Rise, Seraphina Vael, Luna Sovereign of the Moonlands!”
Cheers exploded like thunder across the court.
Drums roared. Wolves howled. The ground trembled with celebration.
A Dance of Fire
That night, the palace shimmered with light.
Tapestries of starlight draped the halls. Golden wine flowed. Dancers spun like windblown leaves. It was not merely a celebration—it was a victory declared in music, food, and laughter.
Seraphina stood on the royal balcony overlooking the festivities when Darian joined her.
“You wear the crown like it was forged for you,” he said, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder.
She smiled faintly. “It feels heavier than I imagined.”
“You’ve carried heavier,” he said softly.
They moved to the dance floor. Eyes followed them—the newly crowned Luna and her Alpha, a couple reborn through flame and war.
As they danced, his hands lingered low on her back, fingers brushing the edge of her hip. Her breath caught. Their bodies moved closer, the music slower now, the tension between them simmering.
“You still make me feel like I’m dreaming,” he murmured against her neck.
“You’re the only real thing in all this,” she whispered back.
Shadows in the East
But not all was celebration.
In the fortress city of Draeven, Alaric stood before a chamber full of armored wolves and dissident nobles.
“Windrest rejoices,” he said coldly. “But they do not know what they celebrate.”
He turned toward a large map marked with crimson pins.
“Seraphina thinks this is over. But I hold the East. I hold the ancient rites. And soon, I’ll hold her kingdom again.”
A hooded woman stepped forward. Her eyes glowed faintly violet.
“She bears the Hollow’s fire,” the woman said. “She’s vulnerable to darkness. We need only exploit it.”
“And we will,” Alaric said. “I’ve already sent the first strike.”
A Sudden Disappearance
Back in Windrest, Mira burst into Seraphina’s chambers at dawn.
“Two border posts have gone silent,” she said. “The eastern ones.”
Seraphina stood from the table where she’d been writing peace edicts. “Alaric’s begun.”
Darian entered moments later. “There’s more. A supply caravan from Hollowgrove was ambushed. No survivors.”
Seraphina’s expression hardened.
“He’s trying to fracture us before we’ve even begun to heal.”
Mira cursed. “The people need to see strength.”
“Then they shall,” Seraphina said. “We ride for the border tonight.”
One Last Night
Before they departed, Seraphina and Darian stole a final moment of peace in the Queen’s chambers.
“You don’t have to lead every charge,” he said quietly, unfastening her armor piece by piece.
“Yes, I do,” she replied, reaching up to loosen his shirt. “But I want you beside me.”
They made love with a hunger that belied the calm.
This was not desperation.
It was affirmation.
She was Queen.
He was hers.
Their bodies moved together in rhythm, fire and command, lips devouring promises they would never break.
Afterward, tangled in silk sheets, he brushed her cheek.
“Win this war,” he whispered. “Then rule it with me.”
“I plan to.”
A Queen on the March
As the moon rose high, Seraphina rode out at the head of her forces. Her banner streamed behind her—flame and crescent, risen anew.
Behind her rode Darian, Mira, Elric, and hundreds of loyal wolves.
They moved swiftly toward the breach.
Toward Draeven.
Toward war.
And as the wind howled through the hills, Seraphina whispered to the stars, “You took everything from me once. But I am not that woman anymore.”
She raised her sword to the sky.
“I am Luna. I am flame. And this kingdom will never burn again.”