Reign of the Forsaken Moon - Chapter 60: Chapter 60

The wind howled through the Ruins of Vyrr, stirring ash from broken statues and crumbled towers. Seraphina stood at the front line of her allies, her blade drawn and glowing faintly with the power of the Heart. Before her, Lucien raised his arms with the calm arrogance of a man who believed destiny owed him.
Behind him, the Lost Sigil warriors fanned out—shadows in armor, loyal to nothing but the promise of fire and chaos.
“I told you once,” Lucien called over the rising wind, “that you were too soft to rule a kingdom. Now look where softness has brought you.”
“I’ve ruled in peace and in war,” Seraphina replied, her voice iron. “And I will rule when your bones are dust.”
The Spark of War
Lucien’s smile vanished.
He raised a hand—and shadows moved.
The Lost Sigil surged forward like a wave, weapons drawn, eyes glazed with dark fury. Seraphina stepped back, her eyes glowing golden as the Heart pulsed in her palm.
“Shield line!” Darian bellowed, drawing his blade and stepping in front of her.
Kael lifted both hands, summoning a barrier of flame and sigils across their front as Mira loosed a volley of enchanted arrows that exploded mid-air, scattering their enemies with holy light.
The clash was instant, brutal.
Blades rang. Blood sprayed. The ruined ground shook beneath the force of old and new magics colliding.
Seraphina moved like fire unleashed—every step a dance between precision and fury.
Lucien met her halfway, sword in hand, eyes burning with madness.
“Do you remember the first time we sparred?” he asked.
“I remember beating you,” she hissed—and lunged.
Luna vs. Betrayer
Their swords met with a sound that split the air. Lucien was faster than she remembered—but she was stronger. The Heart burned inside her, fueling every movement.
He struck low; she twisted high. Sparks flew.
He tried to distract her with memories—his kiss, their child, their bond.
But Seraphina had burned through pain already.
“You left me to die,” she spat. “You let our children burn.”
Lucien’s sneer faltered. “I didn’t know they’d be killed—”
“You chose power over us,” she snarled.
And with a furious cry, she shattered his defense, blade slicing across his chest.
He staggered back, eyes wide.
But before she could press forward—
The earth beneath them split.
The Awakening
From deep within the cracked obelisk, a light surged upward—a pillar of molten fire mixed with void-black smoke.
Everyone froze.
Even the Lost Sigil.
Lucien dropped to his knees, face twisted in awe.
“It’s him… the King returns…”
The pillar of light twisted, coalescing into a form suspended in the air.
Not a man.
Not a god.
But something between.
His body was draped in robes made of burning ash. His crown was a ring of bone. His face was Seraphina’s—only hollowed by flame.
“I am the First Flame,” the Scorched King declared. “I have come to burn the world clean.”
Kael whispered, “He’s not whole yet… the Heart is the last piece.”
And the King’s eyes turned to Seraphina.
A Temptation of Power
“Daughter of my blood,” the Scorched King intoned. “Return to me the Heart. Together, we will forge a realm of fire everlasting.”
Seraphina stood, wind whipping her hair, blood on her hands, fire in her chest.
“I carry your blood,” she said. “But I’m not your daughter.”
“You are mine,” he whispered, drifting closer. “You are fire. You feel it, don’t you? The rage. The fury. The longing to never be weak again.”
He opened his arms.
“Give in, Seraphina. Burn the world that hurt you. Let them all pay.”
For a moment—just a flicker—she saw it.
A world where her enemies bowed. Where her children were avenged. Where her pain was power.
And then she looked to Darian.
To Mira.
To the warriors who had followed her through death and flame.
“No,” she whispered. “I will not rule in fear. I am not you.”
Heart of the Reclaimed
The King snarled, and the world trembled.
Seraphina raised the Heart of Duskreach—and it burst into golden fire, flooding the ruins with light.
It didn’t just glow.
It sang.
A note of balance, of fury and peace braided together.
The King screamed as the light wrapped around him, searing away shadow. Lucien tried to intervene—but Darian knocked him down, sword to his throat.
“This ends now,” Seraphina whispered.
She thrust the Heart into the center of the flame-pillar.
The sky split.
And the Scorched King’s scream became a whisper… then silence.
He wasn’t destroyed.
But he was sealed—beneath stone, beneath magic, beneath Seraphina’s will.
Aftermath
The Lost Sigil warriors dropped their weapons, dazed and broken. Without the King’s will, they were just men—scared, hollow, and lost.
Lucien lay groaning at Seraphina’s feet.
She raised her blade—and paused.
He looked up, expecting mercy.
“I won’t kill you,” she said. “That would be a kindness.”
Instead, she turned to Kael. “Banish him. Strip him of his name. Let him wander the ashes of what he tried to become.”
Darian nodded, sheathing his sword.
Kael bowed. “It will be done.”
A Quiet Victory
The Ruins of Vyrr burned behind them as they sailed east again.
But this fire was cleansing.
Seraphina stood at the prow, Darian’s arms around her, the Heart of Duskreach floating gently near her shoulder like a sentinel.
“You did it,” he murmured.
“We did it,” she said.
She closed her eyes.
And for the first time in years—
She let herself breathe.