Reign of the Forsaken Moon - Chapter 65: Chapter 65

Windrest simmered with tension.
Ashen’s arrival had split the Moonlands like a cracked mirror—some saw her as a miracle, a second chance, perhaps even a divine gift tied to Seraphina’s rise. Others saw a threat. A harbinger of dark magic that no crown could contain.
And in the heart of it all stood Seraphina—Luna reborn, power rising in her veins, flame laced with fate. Yet for all her strength, the uncertainty in her court now whispered like poison in the dark.
Even her most loyal were starting to question.
Could one soul be truly divided?
The Meeting of Flames
Darian stood at the edge of the council chamber, arms folded, jaw clenched.
Ashen sat at the far end of the table—no longer in ceremonial robes, but a simple dark tunic, her hair tied back. She looked calm. But Darian had seen her flinch when the guards tightened their grip near her.
Seraphina took her place at the head.
“We are not here to argue her existence,” she said. “That’s already done. We are here to determine how to move forward—with unity.”
Mira was the first to speak.
“She’s not her, Seraphina. And she never will be.”
Ashen’s voice, quiet and clear, cut through the room. “I don’t want to replace her. I want to understand why I exist.”
Kael leaned forward, his tone measured. “That’s the part we need to uncover. If Lucien created you, we need to know what else he built into you.”
Darian finally spoke, low and firm.
“She’s too close to you. Too tied to your memories. That can be used.”
Seraphina turned to him. “So can empathy. I was created from pain, Darian. That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have been loved.”
Ashen’s eyes widened—but said nothing.
And silence blanketed the room once more.
A Rift in the Night
Later that evening, Seraphina sat alone in the fire garden, violet flames dancing over the shallow pools. She felt Darian before he spoke.
“You always defend the broken,” he said, not unkindly.
She turned to him. “Because I’ve been broken. More than once.”
He sat beside her. “This… thing between us. It’s never been about doubt. I trust your soul. But she—Ashen—she feels like a test. Like fate trying to split us down the middle.”
“She’s not a test,” Seraphina whispered. “She’s a mirror. And I need to face her.”
Darian took her hand, pulling her into his arms. “Then let me stand behind you. Just don’t shut me out.”
Their kiss tasted like ash and longing.
Dreams of the Hollow
That night, Seraphina dreamt.
She stood in the ruins of the battlefield where her children had died—only this time, the sky bled black, and wolves made of smoke prowled the edges.
Ashen stood across from her, wearing a crown of bone.
“You can’t protect everyone,” she said.
“I can try.”
“You’re choosing me. And that choice will cost you him.”
Seraphina reached for her.
But the dream shattered into violet fire.
And when she woke, her hands were glowing.
The Veil Opens
A scream echoed across Windrest.
Guards scrambled to the eastern towers.
Seraphina rushed to the scene to find a scout dead—eyes burned black, veins scorched from within.
Ashen stood nearby, dazed, blood splattered across her tunic. She looked to Seraphina, eyes wide.
“I didn’t do this,” she whispered. “I swear—he grabbed me. He said he heard voices. Then… he ignited.”
Mira snarled. “This is proof!”
But Kael, kneeling over the body, frowned. “No Ember sigils. This wasn’t internal combustion. This was possession.”
Seraphina’s breath caught. “The Veil.”
Kael nodded grimly. “Something from the other side is bleeding through. Using Ashen’s connection to this realm as an anchor.”
A Bond Forged in Fire
Seraphina took Ashen to the sacred chamber where the Heart of Duskreach pulsed faintly beneath the stone floor.
“I believe you,” she said. “But you need to let me see.”
Ashen hesitated. “How?”
Seraphina pressed their palms together. Flame licked their joined hands, and magic shimmered between their veins—past and present intertwining.
Memories surged.
Lucien’s voice. “She is you, remade. A version unbroken. I will send her into your throne, and your people will never know the difference.”
Ashen fell to her knees, sobbing. “He lied to me. I thought I was… a blessing.”
“You are,” Seraphina whispered. “Just not in the way he meant.”
And in that moment, something changed.
Ashen’s sigils glowed—gold instead of red.
Love and Distance
That night, Seraphina came to Darian.
He was training alone in the courtyard, sweat on his brow, his shirt discarded, muscles taut with frustration.
“Come to watch me fight ghosts?” he asked without humor.
“I came to remind you who you’re fighting with.”
She approached him slowly.
“I don’t know what the end of this will look like. I don’t know if Ashen’s path will stay aligned with mine. But I know I want you beside me—until the last star falls.”
His eyes searched hers.
And whatever resentment lingered, melted.
They kissed like they were claiming each other from the edge of ruin.
In the Shadows
Far below Windrest, in a tomb of roots and bone, Lucien stood with a new figure cloaked in smoke.
“She’s growing too strong,” the shadow said.
Lucien smiled coldly. “That’s the point.”
“She has the Ember. The Heart. And now... the Echo.”
Lucien turned, face illuminated by flickering flame.
“She’s nearly complete.”
“And then?”
Lucien’s grin widened.
“Then she breaks.”