Reign of the Forsaken Moon - Chapter 62: Chapter 62
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Windrest had settled into an uneasy peace.
Weeks had passed since Seraphina’s coronation, and the Moonlands were beginning to heal. Stone by stone, the city rebuilt. Trade resumed. Refugees returned. And the people—once divided by doubt and fear—now looked to their Luna with renewed trust.
But peace, Seraphina knew, was never silent for long.
On the seventh morning, a hawk bearing obsidian feathers landed at the Heartspire. Its talons held a scroll sealed in black wax, etched with a crescent moon and a sun surrounded by thorns.
Kael’s brows furrowed as he took it. “This sigil hasn’t been seen in a century…”
Seraphina broke the seal.
The message was written in elegant script, laced with formality:
> To the Twice-Born Luna of the North,
We offer you welcome to the Sands of Azhar, Keeper of Flame and Moon.
An ancient power stirs beneath our dunes. One tied to your blood.
Come with haste. Or come too late.
—The Sun-Seer of Sah’ra Varin
The Council's Dilemma
“That’s madness,” Mira said, pacing the war chamber. “Azhar is forbidden territory. The last time a northern envoy entered their sands, they didn’t return.”
Kael tapped the scroll. “But this is no trap. The Sun-Seers don’t call lightly. And if it’s tied to Seraphina’s bloodline…”
“Then it could be another piece of the Scorched King’s legacy,” Darian finished, standing at Seraphina’s side.
She had been silent since reading the message.
Now, her voice was calm but firm. “I need to know what lies beneath the sands. If it’s tied to the Hollow or to my power, we can’t ignore it.”
“But Windrest just found peace,” Mira said. “You’re needed here.”
Seraphina turned to her, eyes glowing gold.
“They need a Luna,” she said. “But the world needs a guardian.”
Farewell to the Moonlands
That evening, Seraphina stood with Darian beneath the moon, their hands entwined.
“You don’t want me to go,” she said softly.
“I want to follow,” he corrected. “But this is something you must face first. Alone.”
She leaned into him, lips brushing his neck. “Don’t let Windrest fall apart while I’m gone.”
“I’ll guard it like your heart,” he whispered.
Their kiss lingered—warm, deep, aching.
And when she pulled back, he pressed a tiny satchel into her palm.
“For luck,” he said. “And for strength.”
The Desert of Secrets
Three days later, Seraphina crossed into Azhar under the veil of dawn.
The sands shimmered gold under the rising sun, stretching endlessly in every direction. Her guide, a tall, veiled woman named Ashara, led her across shifting dunes on horseback.
“Few northern-blooded wolves walk the Sands and return,” Ashara said without fear. “Your fire will be tested here, Luna.”
“I’ve faced worse,” Seraphina replied.
“You’ve never faced what sleeps beneath Sah’ra Varin.”
The City of the Sun
By sunset, the sandstone towers of Sah’ra Varin rose like mirages against the desert. Domes of burnished gold reflected the sky, and wide stone bridges spanned rivers carved through ancient oases.
The city was silent as they entered—no cheers, no crowd.
Only silence.
Until they reached the Temple of Flame.
There, at the steps, stood a figure cloaked in sun-gold and crimson, face veiled in sheer silk. Eyes like molten amber pierced Seraphina with ancient knowing.
“You walk with the mark of death, and the breath of rebirth,” the figure said.
“I am the Luna of the North,” Seraphina replied. “Who are you?”
“I,” the figure said, lowering her veil, “am the Sun-Seer. And your grandmother.”
Blood Revealed
Seraphina’s breath caught.
The woman before her had her mother’s cheekbones, her father’s fierceness.
But those eyes…
“How…?” she began.
The Sun-Seer guided her inside, voice a whisper of sand. “Your mother fled the desert when war came to the sands. She married a northern wolf, breaking our line. You were born of prophecy and betrayal.”
“Why call me here?” Seraphina asked, her voice sharp with confusion and anger.
“Because the Scorched King was not the only power buried beneath the sands,” the Sun-Seer said. “There is another. One that fed on his absence. One… that calls itself the Ember Womb.”
Kael had spoken of it once—a sealed entity said to rival the First Flame.
“And you believe I can stop it?” Seraphina asked.
“No,” the Sun-Seer said. “I believe you must choose whether to stop it—or release it.”
Beneath the Dunes
They descended into the desert temple at dawn.
Beneath Sah’ra Varin lay labyrinths carved in ancient obsidian, their walls etched with living runes. The air shimmered with heat—and something else. Magic. Old and primal.
The Sun-Seer guided her to a sealed door of molten glass.
Beyond it, pulsed a heartbeat.
> thump… thump… thump…
“You are the only one who can open it,” the Seer said. “The bloodline calls to it. You are both Moon’s mercy… and Fire’s vengeance.”
Seraphina stared at the door.
Was she prepared for what might lie beyond?
What if she became what she feared?
Then she remembered Darian’s words.
> “I know your soul.”
She placed her hand on the door.
And the flame awakened.
Weeks had passed since Seraphina’s coronation, and the Moonlands were beginning to heal. Stone by stone, the city rebuilt. Trade resumed. Refugees returned. And the people—once divided by doubt and fear—now looked to their Luna with renewed trust.
But peace, Seraphina knew, was never silent for long.
On the seventh morning, a hawk bearing obsidian feathers landed at the Heartspire. Its talons held a scroll sealed in black wax, etched with a crescent moon and a sun surrounded by thorns.
Kael’s brows furrowed as he took it. “This sigil hasn’t been seen in a century…”
Seraphina broke the seal.
The message was written in elegant script, laced with formality:
> To the Twice-Born Luna of the North,
We offer you welcome to the Sands of Azhar, Keeper of Flame and Moon.
An ancient power stirs beneath our dunes. One tied to your blood.
Come with haste. Or come too late.
—The Sun-Seer of Sah’ra Varin
The Council's Dilemma
“That’s madness,” Mira said, pacing the war chamber. “Azhar is forbidden territory. The last time a northern envoy entered their sands, they didn’t return.”
Kael tapped the scroll. “But this is no trap. The Sun-Seers don’t call lightly. And if it’s tied to Seraphina’s bloodline…”
“Then it could be another piece of the Scorched King’s legacy,” Darian finished, standing at Seraphina’s side.
She had been silent since reading the message.
Now, her voice was calm but firm. “I need to know what lies beneath the sands. If it’s tied to the Hollow or to my power, we can’t ignore it.”
“But Windrest just found peace,” Mira said. “You’re needed here.”
Seraphina turned to her, eyes glowing gold.
“They need a Luna,” she said. “But the world needs a guardian.”
Farewell to the Moonlands
That evening, Seraphina stood with Darian beneath the moon, their hands entwined.
“You don’t want me to go,” she said softly.
“I want to follow,” he corrected. “But this is something you must face first. Alone.”
She leaned into him, lips brushing his neck. “Don’t let Windrest fall apart while I’m gone.”
“I’ll guard it like your heart,” he whispered.
Their kiss lingered—warm, deep, aching.
And when she pulled back, he pressed a tiny satchel into her palm.
“For luck,” he said. “And for strength.”
The Desert of Secrets
Three days later, Seraphina crossed into Azhar under the veil of dawn.
The sands shimmered gold under the rising sun, stretching endlessly in every direction. Her guide, a tall, veiled woman named Ashara, led her across shifting dunes on horseback.
“Few northern-blooded wolves walk the Sands and return,” Ashara said without fear. “Your fire will be tested here, Luna.”
“I’ve faced worse,” Seraphina replied.
“You’ve never faced what sleeps beneath Sah’ra Varin.”
The City of the Sun
By sunset, the sandstone towers of Sah’ra Varin rose like mirages against the desert. Domes of burnished gold reflected the sky, and wide stone bridges spanned rivers carved through ancient oases.
The city was silent as they entered—no cheers, no crowd.
Only silence.
Until they reached the Temple of Flame.
There, at the steps, stood a figure cloaked in sun-gold and crimson, face veiled in sheer silk. Eyes like molten amber pierced Seraphina with ancient knowing.
“You walk with the mark of death, and the breath of rebirth,” the figure said.
“I am the Luna of the North,” Seraphina replied. “Who are you?”
“I,” the figure said, lowering her veil, “am the Sun-Seer. And your grandmother.”
Blood Revealed
Seraphina’s breath caught.
The woman before her had her mother’s cheekbones, her father’s fierceness.
But those eyes…
“How…?” she began.
The Sun-Seer guided her inside, voice a whisper of sand. “Your mother fled the desert when war came to the sands. She married a northern wolf, breaking our line. You were born of prophecy and betrayal.”
“Why call me here?” Seraphina asked, her voice sharp with confusion and anger.
“Because the Scorched King was not the only power buried beneath the sands,” the Sun-Seer said. “There is another. One that fed on his absence. One… that calls itself the Ember Womb.”
Kael had spoken of it once—a sealed entity said to rival the First Flame.
“And you believe I can stop it?” Seraphina asked.
“No,” the Sun-Seer said. “I believe you must choose whether to stop it—or release it.”
Beneath the Dunes
They descended into the desert temple at dawn.
Beneath Sah’ra Varin lay labyrinths carved in ancient obsidian, their walls etched with living runes. The air shimmered with heat—and something else. Magic. Old and primal.
The Sun-Seer guided her to a sealed door of molten glass.
Beyond it, pulsed a heartbeat.
> thump… thump… thump…
“You are the only one who can open it,” the Seer said. “The bloodline calls to it. You are both Moon’s mercy… and Fire’s vengeance.”
Seraphina stared at the door.
Was she prepared for what might lie beyond?
What if she became what she feared?
Then she remembered Darian’s words.
> “I know your soul.”
She placed her hand on the door.
And the flame awakened.
End of Reign of the Forsaken Moon Chapter 62. Continue reading Chapter 63 or return to Reign of the Forsaken Moon book page.