Reign of the Forsaken Moon - Chapter 66: Chapter 66

Storms loomed over Windrest.
Heavy clouds roiled above the ancient city, casting long shadows across the towers and courtyards. The scent of rain clung to the air like a warning.
Seraphina stood on the balcony of the Moonfire Keep, her fingers tracing the scorched stone railing, her thoughts far from the gentle drizzle that began to fall. Ever since the day Ashen arrived, a quiet dread had nested in her chest.
Tonight, it unfurled.
A Discovery in the South Woods
It was Mira who led the hunt.
A patrol had gone missing along the southern edges of the realm—an area once scorched during the uprising of the Hollow. When they arrived, all that remained was charred earth and bones… and a scent that froze every wolf in their tracks.
Seraphina.
At least, almost her.
“The pattern is the same,” Mira said, crouching near the remains. “Same sigil burn. Same pulse in the aether.”
Kael stepped beside her. “But stronger. Wilder. Untamed.”
Seraphina arrived moments later, the moment the trail was confirmed. As she knelt, her heart began to race.
This Echo wasn’t like Ashen.
It was feral.
A Name from the Past
They found her at the edge of the old Hollow crater—naked, bloodstained, crouched over the body of a stag. Her hair was tangled with ash. Her hands glowed faint red. Her eyes shimmered gold—but not like Seraphina’s.
These were the eyes of war.
She didn’t flinch when Seraphina approached.
Instead, she smiled.
“I was waiting for you,” she rasped. “Mother.”
Seraphina’s heart stilled. “You’re… another Echo.”
“No,” the woman hissed. “I am what you should have become. I am Sira.”
A twist of her name.
And a twist of her soul.
The Monster Within
They brought Sira to Windrest in chains—though it took six guards and a sedative spell to subdue her. She wore them like jewelry, humming as she passed through the city gates.
Ashen watched from the upper tower, horror in her eyes.
“She’s me,” Ashen whispered. “Or what I could’ve been.”
Sira was kept beneath the temple, in the same cell once reserved for Lucien. She didn’t scream. She didn’t fight.
She waited.
And when Seraphina entered, Sira grinned. “We’re incomplete, you know. There’s more of us.”
“How many?” Seraphina asked.
“Three. Me. Her.” She tilted her head toward Ashen’s chamber above. “And the one no one has found. The one that sleeps in the mountain.”
Kael, listening in the shadows, paled. “The Ember Vault…”
Sira purred. “So close to knowing everything. So close to breaking.”
Fractures in the Court
Word of Sira’s capture spread quickly.
Some begged for her execution.
Others feared what killing her might awaken.
The council room crackled with arguments. Even Mira and Kael stood on opposite sides.
“She’s too dangerous to keep alive,” Mira snapped. “She killed five guards without blinking!”
“She may hold keys to Lucien’s greater plan,” Kael countered. “We kill her now, we lose that knowledge.”
Darian sat in silence, eyes focused on Seraphina.
“You haven’t spoken,” she said quietly.
“I’m trying to decide if I’m watching fate unfold—or madness.”
Seraphina exhaled. “We have to survive it either way.”
Ashen’s Dilemma
Ashen visited Seraphina that night, visibly shaken.
“She speaks to me… in my head,” Ashen whispered. “Dreams I can’t wake from. She says I’m weak. That I’m just a puppet they forgot to break.”
“You’re not her,” Seraphina said, taking her hands. “You’ve made your own choices. You’ve healed.”
“But if she was created like me,” Ashen said, “then who’s to say I won’t break too?”
“You won’t,” came Darian’s voice from the doorway. “Because we’ll hold you together.”
He stepped in and stood between them.
“I won’t lose either of you,” he said. “But if she comes for Seraphina… I will end her.”
Nightfall Rebellion
The attack came after midnight.
A tremor split through the keep—followed by a scream of fire.
Sira had escaped.
Guards scrambled. Alarms blared. Ashen collapsed in the corridor, blood trickling from her nose—clearly assaulted by some magical link between her and her Echo.
Seraphina and Darian arrived at the lower vaults to find two guards dead—and the rest in a trance.
Sira stood atop the altar, flames dancing in her palms.
“I remember the fire that made us,” she said. “Now I want to see what happens when we unmake it.”
Seraphina summoned her power.
Flame met flame.
Battle in the Vault
Sira was fast. Brutal.
Her attacks came in searing waves, ripping through the stone chamber. Darian countered her with sword and shield, deflecting spells even as his skin blistered.
“You don’t belong here,” Seraphina shouted, dodging a flaming spear. “You’re not me.”
“I am what you denied,” Sira roared. “And now I will take it back!”
Their magic collided—Ember versus Ember, fate against flame. The floor cracked. The pillars shook.
And then—Ashen arrived.
She threw herself between them.
“Stop!” she cried, her voice a harmonic echo of both. “This isn’t what we were made to do!”
Sira hesitated.
And Seraphina struck.
The Aftermath
Sira collapsed, chains searing into her skin.
Not dead.
But subdued.
Seraphina knelt beside her, chest heaving.
“You’re not gone,” she whispered. “But if you rise again, it will be your choice—not his.”
Sira’s eyes—bleeding violet—closed.
And the flames died.