Reign of the Forsaken Moon - Chapter 59: Chapter 59
You are reading Reign of the Forsaken Moon, Chapter 59: Chapter 59. Read more chapters of Reign of the Forsaken Moon.
The sea was no longer still.
The moment The Emberheart turned westward toward the Ruins of Vyrr, the waters churned with unnatural force. Lightning danced over the horizon, though no storm loomed. The Hollow Sea lived up to its name—vast, dark, and filled with things no light could touch.
Seraphina stood at the prow, her cloak whipping in the saltwind, the Heart of Duskreach pulsing beside her like a second heartbeat. Though her feet stood firm on the ship’s deck, her thoughts were adrift—haunted by the words of the Scorched King.
> “You carry my blood.”
What if her very essence was a weapon forged by a mad god?
Secrets in the Wind
As the crew made preparations, Mira approached Seraphina on the upper deck, her expression unreadable.
“You’ve been quiet,” Mira said. “Too quiet.”
“There’s too much I don’t understand,” Seraphina replied, her voice low. “Kael’s been evasive ever since the temple.”
Mira folded her arms. “I noticed it too. The way he looked at the Heart after the Scorched King appeared... like he recognized more than he let on.”
Seraphina turned toward the helm. “He knew the Ruins of Vyrr were where the King sleeps. But he didn’t warn me.”
Mira’s eyes narrowed. “You think Kael’s hiding something?”
“I think,” Seraphina said, “I need to know why.”
Confronting Kael
Later that night, Seraphina found Kael alone in the meditation chamber beneath deck, his hand hovering over an open scroll filled with runes that shifted before the eye.
“You didn’t tell me everything,” she said.
He didn’t flinch. “No.”
She stepped closer. “Why?”
Kael’s voice was hoarse. “Because I feared if you knew… you wouldn’t go.”
Seraphina stared him down. “Tell me.”
Kael looked up, and in his eyes, she saw a storm of guilt.
“The Scorched King… was not just a protector. He was your ancestor. Your mother’s side. The House of Vessaryn. That’s why you alone can wield the Heart.”
Seraphina reeled.
“You said I was the Fulcrum. The balance. Now I’m the blood of a god who nearly destroyed the world?”
Kael nodded slowly. “You are both.”
Darian’s Faith
Seraphina paced the deck long after Kael’s confession.
Darian found her beneath the moonlight, his face shadowed with concern.
“You know now,” she said. “What I carry in my blood.”
He didn’t answer right away.
Then he stepped close, lifting her chin so her eyes met his.
“I know who you are,” he said. “You’re the wolf who walked through death to reclaim her throne. You’re the Luna who gave mercy to those who betrayed her. And you’re the woman I’ve chosen. Whatever your blood says, I know your soul.”
Her throat tightened.
She kissed him, fierce and full of unshed pain.
And when she pulled back, she whispered, “Then stand beside me when we reach Vyrr. No matter what I become.”
“Always,” he said.
The Fog of Vyrr
By the fifth day, the fog thickened.
Not natural fog—this clung to the soul like sorrow, dimming light and muffling sound. Mira described it best: “It feels like drowning in memory.”
Then came the voices.
Whispers in the sails.
Cries in the sea.
And visions.
One crew member screamed as he saw his dead sister rise from the waves.
Another claimed to hear his unborn child calling his name.
Even Seraphina wasn’t spared. At night, her dreams were flooded with images of Eira and Kian—alive, laughing, then burning again.
“It’s the Hollow,” Kael confirmed grimly. “The closer we draw to Vyrr, the more it feeds.”
Seraphina stood at the prow, her hand over her heart.
“No more lies. We finish this.”
Landfall
On the seventh dawn, the fog parted just enough to reveal jagged cliffs rising like a crown of bone from the sea.
The Ruins of Vyrr.
What remained of a once-great city had been swallowed by time and salt. Towering statues of forgotten gods lay shattered across the coastline, their eyes gouged, their hands broken.
A black obelisk stood at the center of the ruins, taller than any tower in Windrest. At its base, a glowing rift pulsed in time with the Heart of Duskreach.
“That’s where he sleeps,” Seraphina said.
But as they approached the shore, the wind shifted.
And from the shadows stepped a familiar figure.
A Ghost from the Past
He was cloaked in iron-threaded armor, hair ashen blond, eyes like winter frost.
Lucien.
Her former mate.
Alive.
And not alone.
Behind him stood a small army—cloaked warriors bearing the insignia of the Lost Sigil, a faction long thought extinct.
Seraphina’s blood ran cold.
“You were dead.”
Lucien smiled. “Death doesn’t claim those it respects.”
Darian stepped forward, fury in his voice. “You betrayed her.”
Lucien ignored him. “I came to Vyrr searching for power. And I found it. The Scorched King speaks to all his kin. Even me.”
“You’re not his kin,” Seraphina growled.
Lucien’s smile widened. “Aren’t I?”
The Heart of Duskreach pulsed wildly.
And deep beneath the earth, something stirred.
The moment The Emberheart turned westward toward the Ruins of Vyrr, the waters churned with unnatural force. Lightning danced over the horizon, though no storm loomed. The Hollow Sea lived up to its name—vast, dark, and filled with things no light could touch.
Seraphina stood at the prow, her cloak whipping in the saltwind, the Heart of Duskreach pulsing beside her like a second heartbeat. Though her feet stood firm on the ship’s deck, her thoughts were adrift—haunted by the words of the Scorched King.
> “You carry my blood.”
What if her very essence was a weapon forged by a mad god?
Secrets in the Wind
As the crew made preparations, Mira approached Seraphina on the upper deck, her expression unreadable.
“You’ve been quiet,” Mira said. “Too quiet.”
“There’s too much I don’t understand,” Seraphina replied, her voice low. “Kael’s been evasive ever since the temple.”
Mira folded her arms. “I noticed it too. The way he looked at the Heart after the Scorched King appeared... like he recognized more than he let on.”
Seraphina turned toward the helm. “He knew the Ruins of Vyrr were where the King sleeps. But he didn’t warn me.”
Mira’s eyes narrowed. “You think Kael’s hiding something?”
“I think,” Seraphina said, “I need to know why.”
Confronting Kael
Later that night, Seraphina found Kael alone in the meditation chamber beneath deck, his hand hovering over an open scroll filled with runes that shifted before the eye.
“You didn’t tell me everything,” she said.
He didn’t flinch. “No.”
She stepped closer. “Why?”
Kael’s voice was hoarse. “Because I feared if you knew… you wouldn’t go.”
Seraphina stared him down. “Tell me.”
Kael looked up, and in his eyes, she saw a storm of guilt.
“The Scorched King… was not just a protector. He was your ancestor. Your mother’s side. The House of Vessaryn. That’s why you alone can wield the Heart.”
Seraphina reeled.
“You said I was the Fulcrum. The balance. Now I’m the blood of a god who nearly destroyed the world?”
Kael nodded slowly. “You are both.”
Darian’s Faith
Seraphina paced the deck long after Kael’s confession.
Darian found her beneath the moonlight, his face shadowed with concern.
“You know now,” she said. “What I carry in my blood.”
He didn’t answer right away.
Then he stepped close, lifting her chin so her eyes met his.
“I know who you are,” he said. “You’re the wolf who walked through death to reclaim her throne. You’re the Luna who gave mercy to those who betrayed her. And you’re the woman I’ve chosen. Whatever your blood says, I know your soul.”
Her throat tightened.
She kissed him, fierce and full of unshed pain.
And when she pulled back, she whispered, “Then stand beside me when we reach Vyrr. No matter what I become.”
“Always,” he said.
The Fog of Vyrr
By the fifth day, the fog thickened.
Not natural fog—this clung to the soul like sorrow, dimming light and muffling sound. Mira described it best: “It feels like drowning in memory.”
Then came the voices.
Whispers in the sails.
Cries in the sea.
And visions.
One crew member screamed as he saw his dead sister rise from the waves.
Another claimed to hear his unborn child calling his name.
Even Seraphina wasn’t spared. At night, her dreams were flooded with images of Eira and Kian—alive, laughing, then burning again.
“It’s the Hollow,” Kael confirmed grimly. “The closer we draw to Vyrr, the more it feeds.”
Seraphina stood at the prow, her hand over her heart.
“No more lies. We finish this.”
Landfall
On the seventh dawn, the fog parted just enough to reveal jagged cliffs rising like a crown of bone from the sea.
The Ruins of Vyrr.
What remained of a once-great city had been swallowed by time and salt. Towering statues of forgotten gods lay shattered across the coastline, their eyes gouged, their hands broken.
A black obelisk stood at the center of the ruins, taller than any tower in Windrest. At its base, a glowing rift pulsed in time with the Heart of Duskreach.
“That’s where he sleeps,” Seraphina said.
But as they approached the shore, the wind shifted.
And from the shadows stepped a familiar figure.
A Ghost from the Past
He was cloaked in iron-threaded armor, hair ashen blond, eyes like winter frost.
Lucien.
Her former mate.
Alive.
And not alone.
Behind him stood a small army—cloaked warriors bearing the insignia of the Lost Sigil, a faction long thought extinct.
Seraphina’s blood ran cold.
“You were dead.”
Lucien smiled. “Death doesn’t claim those it respects.”
Darian stepped forward, fury in his voice. “You betrayed her.”
Lucien ignored him. “I came to Vyrr searching for power. And I found it. The Scorched King speaks to all his kin. Even me.”
“You’re not his kin,” Seraphina growled.
Lucien’s smile widened. “Aren’t I?”
The Heart of Duskreach pulsed wildly.
And deep beneath the earth, something stirred.
End of Reign of the Forsaken Moon Chapter 59. Continue reading Chapter 60 or return to Reign of the Forsaken Moon book page.