Reign of the Forsaken Moon - Chapter 63: Chapter 63

The door of molten glass hissed open with a groan that sounded less like stone—and more like breath.
Seraphina stepped forward.
Heat rolled over her in thick waves, stifling, suffocating. The hallway behind her vanished, swallowed by firelight. There was no turning back. The Ember Womb had accepted her entrance.
Ahead, the world shifted.
What looked like corridors became vast caverns, each burning with flickers of memory and illusion. She stepped onto a bridge of obsidian that shimmered beneath her boots, suspended above a void that pulsed with flickers of light—like stars trapped in magma.
The moment her foot touched the floor, the air whispered her name.
> “Seraphina…”
But it wasn’t her voice.
It was hers.
Flames of the Past
A hallway stretched before her, flanked by burning mirrors. Each one shimmered—some clear, some cracked. As Seraphina passed them, they began to show her.
Not as she was—but as she might’ve been.
In one reflection, she saw herself as Queen without rebellion. Clothed in gold and jewels, ruling beside Lucien, her face cold and prideful. Her children still alive—but so were her chains.
In another, she was draped in darkness. Crowned by ash, her eyes burning with madness. The Scorched King’s heir in full. Armies bowed. Cities burned. She ruled not with justice—but with vengeance.
Seraphina recoiled from that version of herself.
But the mirror whispered, “You wanted this once. You could still have it.”
“No,” she said through clenched teeth. “I chose differently.”
The mirror cracked.
The Chamber of Trials
After what felt like hours—though time bled in the Ember Womb—Seraphina reached a vast chamber.
Pillars of flame rose around a circular platform. In its center stood a throne made entirely of fire. Upon it sat herself.
But older.
And far more terrifying.
Her twin in every way—except her eyes. Where Seraphina’s gleamed with balance and pain, this reflection’s eyes were scorched black, devoid of empathy.
“Do you know why you’re here?” the dark Seraphina asked.
“I came to ensure your fire never leaves this place.”
Her twin laughed. “Oh, child. You are the fire.”
Seraphina’s heart pounded.
“This is the final test,” the voice echoed. “You must choose. Embrace the part of you that wants revenge… or bury it forever.”
Trial of the Heart
Suddenly, the chamber changed.
She was no longer in the Ember Womb.
She stood in her old nursery.
And her children were alive.
Kian laughed in the corner, building towers with stones. Eira danced to a song only she could hear. Darian stood at the doorway, smiling. Her family—whole. Alive.
Seraphina dropped to her knees.
“Is this… real?”
Dark Seraphina appeared behind her. “It can be. Give me the Heart. Relinquish control. And this will be your world.”
Seraphina’s hands shook.
Tears blurred her vision.
“Kian…” she whispered. “Eira…”
They turned to her.
Smiled.
Then flickered—just slightly.
The illusion began to unravel.
She stood.
Pain cracked through her chest like glass shattering.
“I want them back more than anything,” she whispered. “But not like this.”
And she shattered the image with a scream of heartbreak.
Flame vs. Flame
The throne exploded in fire.
Dark Seraphina lunged, blade of smoke in hand. Seraphina met her with a roar, their blades clashing in sparks and fury.
They fought not just with steel—but with truths.
Dark Seraphina whispered every fear: You’re not enough. You failed your children. Darian loves only the part of you he understands. The rest he fears.
Seraphina answered with every scar.
“I am the Luna who rose from ashes,” she shouted, striking hard. “Not perfect. Not whole. But stronger because of it!”
Their blades locked. Sweat and blood mixed with fire.
And finally—she thrust forward.
Dark Seraphina gasped.
And shattered into embers.
The Ember’s Blessing
The chamber dimmed.
The heat cooled.
In the center of the floor, where her shadow had fallen, now grew a flame unlike any other. It wasn’t red, or gold—but violet. The fire of rebirth.
The Heart of Duskreach floated above it, brighter than ever.
And a voice—not cruel, not demanding—echoed in her mind.
> “You are not fire to destroy.
You are fire to forge.
And you have chosen well.”
The flame coiled around her wrists like bracelets. Around her throat like a whisper. It did not burn.
It crowned her.
Return to the Surface
When Seraphina stepped out of the Ember Womb, the temple trembled.
Ashara gasped when she saw her.
Gone was the soot-streaked warrior.
Now, Seraphina’s hair shimmered with threads of firelight. Her eyes glowed violet-gold. Her presence was no longer just regal—it was elemental.
The Sun-Seer bowed, deeply.
“You have done what none could do. The Ember is now yours.”
“No,” Seraphina said. “It is ours. I will not hoard this power. I’ll share it—with those who build, not burn.”
Ashara smiled. “Then the desert will remember your name not with fear—but hope.”
Meanwhile, in the North…
Far away, in a ruined chamber beneath a mountain, Lucien kneeled before a figure cloaked in shadow.
The voice rasped like broken stone.
“She has passed the Ember Womb.”
Lucien’s fists clenched. “She grows stronger.”
The shadow’s lips curled.
“Then we test her strength. With something she’s not ready for…”
The fire behind the figure flared.
And the face that emerged from it…
…was one Seraphina thought lost to the flames.