Reign of the Forsaken Moon - Chapter 9: Chapter 9
You are reading Reign of the Forsaken Moon, Chapter 9: Chapter 9. Read more chapters of Reign of the Forsaken Moon.
Far from Ashfang, in the heart of the corrupted capital once called Moonclaw, a storm was brewing in silence.
Thorne stood alone beneath the altar chamber of the ruined cathedral. The same place where, years ago, he had ordered the murder of his own children.
His face was still and ageless, carved from ice and hatred. Blood pooled at his feet in a ritual circle. Runes burned on the walls, cast in dead languages not spoken since the First Howl.
A whisper came from the dark.
> “The Twice-Born awakens…”
Thorne’s fist clenched.
“She should have stayed dead.”
Another whisper—this one female, seductive and chilling.
> “You tried to kill the moon, Thorne. But the moon doesn’t die. It rises.”
He turned to the source of the voice.
A figure stepped from the shadows—Selvara, a high priestess of the Void Cult. Eyes like black stars, lips painted with blood.
“She’s retrieved the Warden’s Blade,” Selvara said. “You waited too long.”
“She won’t reach the throne,” Thorne growled. “I’ll see her soul crushed before she takes one more step toward power.”
Selvara smiled.
> “Then you’ll need more than claws and armies. You’ll need... the Devourer.”
Back at Ashfang…
Seraphina stood before a crowd of warriors and villagers. The Warden’s Blade gleamed on her back, and her presence burned like starlight. The moon above her was full and watchful.
Her once-scattered followers had begun returning.
Tonight, they cheered her name.
“LUNA!”
“TWICE-BORN!”
“MOONCLAW RISES!”
She raised her hand, and silence fell.
“I am not here to be worshipped,” she said. “I am here to avenge. I have died once. I have lost everything. But I have returned not for revenge alone—but for justice. For all of us.”
A wave of emotion rippled through the crowd. Darian, standing at her side, couldn’t help but watch her with quiet admiration.
She was becoming a legend before their eyes.
That night, as she rested in the high tower chamber, a cold wind slid through the window.
She turned—and froze.
Lyra stood before her.
Or… a ghost of her.
Her daughter’s form shimmered, dressed in the moon-veil gown Seraphina had woven for her third birthday. Her eyes were distant, as though she looked beyond the present.
“Lyra…?” Seraphina whispered, her voice breaking.
But the ghost didn’t speak. Instead, it raised a tiny hand and pointed toward the horizon.
Where storm clouds were gathering—unnaturally dark.
Seraphina blinked, and the vision vanished.
Later, she told Darian.
“She’s trying to warn me,” she said. “There’s something coming. Something darker than Thorne.”
“Do you think he’s using dark magic again?” he asked.
“He never stopped.”
Darian frowned. “Then we strike first.”
“No,” Seraphina said, standing. “We prepare. I want every warrior trained in the old ways. The sacred arts. I want the Seers summoned. We are not just fighting wolves. We’re fighting monsters.”
Meanwhile, in the Silver Marshes…
A cloaked figure moved through the night, wolves flanking him. His scent was unfamiliar—but something about him pulsed with power.
He stopped at the edge of Ashfang’s warding stones and looked up at the moon.
“I felt your rebirth, Luna,” he whispered.
Then he pulled back his hood—revea
ling eyes like molten gold.
An Alpha. One who had been hidden… forgotten.
And he was coming for her.
Thorne stood alone beneath the altar chamber of the ruined cathedral. The same place where, years ago, he had ordered the murder of his own children.
His face was still and ageless, carved from ice and hatred. Blood pooled at his feet in a ritual circle. Runes burned on the walls, cast in dead languages not spoken since the First Howl.
A whisper came from the dark.
> “The Twice-Born awakens…”
Thorne’s fist clenched.
“She should have stayed dead.”
Another whisper—this one female, seductive and chilling.
> “You tried to kill the moon, Thorne. But the moon doesn’t die. It rises.”
He turned to the source of the voice.
A figure stepped from the shadows—Selvara, a high priestess of the Void Cult. Eyes like black stars, lips painted with blood.
“She’s retrieved the Warden’s Blade,” Selvara said. “You waited too long.”
“She won’t reach the throne,” Thorne growled. “I’ll see her soul crushed before she takes one more step toward power.”
Selvara smiled.
> “Then you’ll need more than claws and armies. You’ll need... the Devourer.”
Back at Ashfang…
Seraphina stood before a crowd of warriors and villagers. The Warden’s Blade gleamed on her back, and her presence burned like starlight. The moon above her was full and watchful.
Her once-scattered followers had begun returning.
Tonight, they cheered her name.
“LUNA!”
“TWICE-BORN!”
“MOONCLAW RISES!”
She raised her hand, and silence fell.
“I am not here to be worshipped,” she said. “I am here to avenge. I have died once. I have lost everything. But I have returned not for revenge alone—but for justice. For all of us.”
A wave of emotion rippled through the crowd. Darian, standing at her side, couldn’t help but watch her with quiet admiration.
She was becoming a legend before their eyes.
That night, as she rested in the high tower chamber, a cold wind slid through the window.
She turned—and froze.
Lyra stood before her.
Or… a ghost of her.
Her daughter’s form shimmered, dressed in the moon-veil gown Seraphina had woven for her third birthday. Her eyes were distant, as though she looked beyond the present.
“Lyra…?” Seraphina whispered, her voice breaking.
But the ghost didn’t speak. Instead, it raised a tiny hand and pointed toward the horizon.
Where storm clouds were gathering—unnaturally dark.
Seraphina blinked, and the vision vanished.
Later, she told Darian.
“She’s trying to warn me,” she said. “There’s something coming. Something darker than Thorne.”
“Do you think he’s using dark magic again?” he asked.
“He never stopped.”
Darian frowned. “Then we strike first.”
“No,” Seraphina said, standing. “We prepare. I want every warrior trained in the old ways. The sacred arts. I want the Seers summoned. We are not just fighting wolves. We’re fighting monsters.”
Meanwhile, in the Silver Marshes…
A cloaked figure moved through the night, wolves flanking him. His scent was unfamiliar—but something about him pulsed with power.
He stopped at the edge of Ashfang’s warding stones and looked up at the moon.
“I felt your rebirth, Luna,” he whispered.
Then he pulled back his hood—revea
ling eyes like molten gold.
An Alpha. One who had been hidden… forgotten.
And he was coming for her.
End of Reign of the Forsaken Moon Chapter 9. Continue reading Chapter 10 or return to Reign of the Forsaken Moon book page.