Reign of the Forsaken Moon - Chapter 56: Chapter 56
You are reading Reign of the Forsaken Moon, Chapter 56: Chapter 56. Read more chapters of Reign of the Forsaken Moon.
The sea was a stranger's breath—cold, wide, and ever shifting.
Seraphina stood on the deck of The Emberheart, her cloak whipping in the salted wind as the Moonlands faded into a smudge on the eastern horizon. Beside her, Darian gripped the railing with the silent tension of a man who would rather face ten enemies on land than trust himself to water.
“You’ll get used to it,” she murmured, watching the foam spiral behind the stern.
“I’d prefer to run into a Hollow-borne berserker right about now,” he muttered. “At least I could swing a blade at that.”
She smiled slightly and turned her face to the wind.
It carried with it no answers—only the scent of a land not yet seen and a darkness that had waited too long to be remembered.
The Journey Begins
The Emberheart was no ordinary ship. Reinforced with ancient ironbark and warded by seers of the Lost Bloodline, it was one of the few vessels strong enough to cross the Maw—the churning, fog-filled trench that divided the Moonlands from the lost continent of Duskreach.
Alongside Seraphina and Darian sailed Mira, Kael, a contingent of ten hand-picked warriors from the newly formed Royal Guard, and two emissaries from the Northern Clans. They had argued for inclusion at the last moment, fearful that history would be rewritten without them.
“We're sailing toward myth,” Mira said one night over a flickering lantern. “A place wiped off every map. And we’re supposed to believe there’s something alive over there?”
Kael’s voice was calm, but firm. “Not alive. Awakened. The Hollow was only its whisper.”
“And what is the scream?” Darian asked.
Kael didn’t answer.
But Seraphina felt it too—in her bones, in her dreams.
Something was calling.
Visions at Sea
On the fifth night, the fog thickened until the stars vanished.
The ship slowed as ward-torches were lit, their violet-blue flames crackling against the unnatural mist.
Seraphina sat alone in her cabin, gazing into the mirror Kael had given her—an obsidian shard from the Flame Gate. Her reflection wavered, rippling like water.
And then she saw it.
A throne of bone beneath a black sun.
A crown of ash clutched in skeletal hands.
A figure in her shape—but not her—smiling with lips stained in silver blood.
“Come home,” the image whispered.
Seraphina gasped and dropped the shard. It landed silently on the floor, pulsing faintly.
She didn’t sleep again that night.
Duskreach Revealed
They broke through the fog at dawn on the seventh day.
The crew gathered in silent awe as cliffs rose like jagged teeth from the ocean. Vines clung to stone, gnarled and ancient, and atop the tallest cliff stood the broken spires of a forgotten temple—weathered, watching.
“Duskreach,” Kael said quietly. “Once the seat of the Flamekeepers. Now, no more than haunted stone.”
Wolves emerged along the black-sanded shore.
Not beasts.
Not Hollow.
But men and women cloaked in tattered gold and crimson, eyes gleaming with strange, lunar light.
They bore no weapons.
But they bore presence.
And one stepped forward—tall, ageless, and cloaked in shadowed silk.
“I am Liora,” she said, voice a melodic echo. “You are late, Fulcrum.”
The Legacy Keepers
They were led to the crumbling heart of Duskreach—through ash-covered roads and silent ruins to a cathedral of obsidian and vine. There, Seraphina learned the truth:
Long before the Moonlands had Luna courts and Alpha dominions, the Flamekeepers ruled both sky and soil. Their duty had been to keep the balance between creation and decay, fire and shadow.
Until one among them broke the pact and reached into the Void to create power that could not be controlled.
The Hollow was born from that betrayal—and scattered across the sea, infecting every shore it touched.
“You are the descendant of both the protector and the betrayer,” Liora said, her eyes burning. “You are the echo of fire and void.”
“And what am I meant to do?” Seraphina asked. “Fight it? Seal it? Burn it again?”
Liora stared at her for a long moment.
“You are meant to choose.”
Fractures Among Allies
Not everyone on board welcomed what they found.
The Northern emissary, Alpha Malren, grew suspicious of the Duskreach seers, muttering warnings to Darian.
“This land is cursed,” he said. “And if she takes its power into herself, she may not return the same.”
Darian, though loyal to Seraphina, couldn’t shake the fear rooted in his chest.
Later, he approached her on the temple balcony.
“You’ve changed since we arrived.”
“I’ve remembered,” she said.
“Do you still want this?” he asked quietly. “Us?”
She turned to him.
And kissed him.
Not with fire.
But with longing, fear, and promise.
“I’ve never stopped.”
But as they embraced, the skies darkened—and the temple bells rang for the first time in centuries.
Something had awakened beneath the soil.
Something old.
Something waiting.
Seraphina stood on the deck of The Emberheart, her cloak whipping in the salted wind as the Moonlands faded into a smudge on the eastern horizon. Beside her, Darian gripped the railing with the silent tension of a man who would rather face ten enemies on land than trust himself to water.
“You’ll get used to it,” she murmured, watching the foam spiral behind the stern.
“I’d prefer to run into a Hollow-borne berserker right about now,” he muttered. “At least I could swing a blade at that.”
She smiled slightly and turned her face to the wind.
It carried with it no answers—only the scent of a land not yet seen and a darkness that had waited too long to be remembered.
The Journey Begins
The Emberheart was no ordinary ship. Reinforced with ancient ironbark and warded by seers of the Lost Bloodline, it was one of the few vessels strong enough to cross the Maw—the churning, fog-filled trench that divided the Moonlands from the lost continent of Duskreach.
Alongside Seraphina and Darian sailed Mira, Kael, a contingent of ten hand-picked warriors from the newly formed Royal Guard, and two emissaries from the Northern Clans. They had argued for inclusion at the last moment, fearful that history would be rewritten without them.
“We're sailing toward myth,” Mira said one night over a flickering lantern. “A place wiped off every map. And we’re supposed to believe there’s something alive over there?”
Kael’s voice was calm, but firm. “Not alive. Awakened. The Hollow was only its whisper.”
“And what is the scream?” Darian asked.
Kael didn’t answer.
But Seraphina felt it too—in her bones, in her dreams.
Something was calling.
Visions at Sea
On the fifth night, the fog thickened until the stars vanished.
The ship slowed as ward-torches were lit, their violet-blue flames crackling against the unnatural mist.
Seraphina sat alone in her cabin, gazing into the mirror Kael had given her—an obsidian shard from the Flame Gate. Her reflection wavered, rippling like water.
And then she saw it.
A throne of bone beneath a black sun.
A crown of ash clutched in skeletal hands.
A figure in her shape—but not her—smiling with lips stained in silver blood.
“Come home,” the image whispered.
Seraphina gasped and dropped the shard. It landed silently on the floor, pulsing faintly.
She didn’t sleep again that night.
Duskreach Revealed
They broke through the fog at dawn on the seventh day.
The crew gathered in silent awe as cliffs rose like jagged teeth from the ocean. Vines clung to stone, gnarled and ancient, and atop the tallest cliff stood the broken spires of a forgotten temple—weathered, watching.
“Duskreach,” Kael said quietly. “Once the seat of the Flamekeepers. Now, no more than haunted stone.”
Wolves emerged along the black-sanded shore.
Not beasts.
Not Hollow.
But men and women cloaked in tattered gold and crimson, eyes gleaming with strange, lunar light.
They bore no weapons.
But they bore presence.
And one stepped forward—tall, ageless, and cloaked in shadowed silk.
“I am Liora,” she said, voice a melodic echo. “You are late, Fulcrum.”
The Legacy Keepers
They were led to the crumbling heart of Duskreach—through ash-covered roads and silent ruins to a cathedral of obsidian and vine. There, Seraphina learned the truth:
Long before the Moonlands had Luna courts and Alpha dominions, the Flamekeepers ruled both sky and soil. Their duty had been to keep the balance between creation and decay, fire and shadow.
Until one among them broke the pact and reached into the Void to create power that could not be controlled.
The Hollow was born from that betrayal—and scattered across the sea, infecting every shore it touched.
“You are the descendant of both the protector and the betrayer,” Liora said, her eyes burning. “You are the echo of fire and void.”
“And what am I meant to do?” Seraphina asked. “Fight it? Seal it? Burn it again?”
Liora stared at her for a long moment.
“You are meant to choose.”
Fractures Among Allies
Not everyone on board welcomed what they found.
The Northern emissary, Alpha Malren, grew suspicious of the Duskreach seers, muttering warnings to Darian.
“This land is cursed,” he said. “And if she takes its power into herself, she may not return the same.”
Darian, though loyal to Seraphina, couldn’t shake the fear rooted in his chest.
Later, he approached her on the temple balcony.
“You’ve changed since we arrived.”
“I’ve remembered,” she said.
“Do you still want this?” he asked quietly. “Us?”
She turned to him.
And kissed him.
Not with fire.
But with longing, fear, and promise.
“I’ve never stopped.”
But as they embraced, the skies darkened—and the temple bells rang for the first time in centuries.
Something had awakened beneath the soil.
Something old.
Something waiting.
End of Reign of the Forsaken Moon Chapter 56. Continue reading Chapter 57 or return to Reign of the Forsaken Moon book page.