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Chapter 10
Last Updated:
2025-10-20 19:35:37
Latest chapter
Chronicles Of Moonblood 1. The Wounded Heart Chapter 15
The day started slowly, but the air was strange from the morning on. Heavy, sharp—like even the stone walls were sweating. The Moon was still in its waxing phase, and the runes on the eastern edge had been glowing faintly since the night, as if something outside was pounding against them.Cassian was already waiting in the courtyard when I stepped out.“Something’s wrong with the runes,” he said instead of a greeting. “It’s not an attack, just… movement.”“By themselves?” I asked, pulling on my leather gloves.“More like something pressing on them from the inside.” He crouched and scratched a line into the dust. “The vibration isn’t coming from outside. It’s coming from below.”I didn’t like what I heard. Beneath the foundations of the house, several old passages ran—some sealed, others protected by magic. If there was movement in one of them, it wasn’t good news.“Call Rhaell from the rune chamber. I want to see it.”Cassian nodded and disappeared.Kneeling by the wall, I touched the
Chronicles Of Moonblood 1. The Wounded Heart Chapter 14
A naptár szerint a Hold három napra van a telitől. Ez nálunk azt jelenti: a gyerekek gyorsabbak, éberebbek, az alvásablakok rövidebbek. A mai tervet már hajnalban átírtam: kevesebb inger, több csend, zárt kör a tréninghez, délben rúnamérés, estére „biztonsági üzemmód".Hatkor már a belső udvaron vagyok. A vászonnal fedett szalmapálya száraz, a kötélkör feszes. Kézzel végigmegyek a csomókon. A pad alatti merevítést tegnap kicseréltettük, most nem billeg. A rúd alacsony, csiszolt, két oszlop tartja. A fal felől Cassian két emberrel ellenőrzi a rácsokat. Az egyik szárnyas csavar lazább volt, szólok, meghúzzák. Nincs díszítés, nincs zászló, nincs néző. Ez nem cirkusz, hanem munkafelület.Visszafelé menet beugrom a konyhába: a főzet aránya a tegnapihoz képest módosult. Mae kérte, több fehérje, kevesebb fűszer. A szakács már beállította. A dajka tálcája készen, két pohár víz, két kisebb csupor hígított kása. A nevük ráírva. Nem azért, mert nem ismerjük fel, hanem mert rendszer.A lakosztály
Chronicles Of Moonblood 1. The Wounded Heart Chapter 13
According to the calendar, the Moon is three days from being full. For us, that means: the children are faster, more alert, sleep windows are shorter. I rewrote today’s plan at dawn: less stimulus, more silence, closed circle for training, rune assessment at noon, “safety mode” for the evening.By six, I’m already in the inner courtyard. The straw track covered with canvas is dry, the rope circle is taut. I run my hands along the knots. We had the brace under the bench replaced yesterday; it no longer wobbles. The bar is low, polished, held by two pillars. By the wall, Cassian and two men are checking the grates. One wing screw was a little loose; I point it out, they tighten it. No decoration, no flag, no audience. This isn’t a circus—it’s a workspace.On the way back, I stop by the kitchen: the brew’s ratio has changed since yesterday. Mae asked for more protein, less spice. The cook has already adjusted it. The nursemaid’s tray is ready—two glasses of water, two small cups of dilut
Chronicles Of Moonblood 1. The Wounded Heart Chapter 12
Six months have passed.The sound of two tiny steps in the corridor is no longer a toddler’s shuffle but a short, sharp sprint. At first, I thought it was the servants’ children running into the inner wing—but no. They’re mine. Selin and Kael.The nurse caught up to them at the corner, but too late. They dart into my study, stop on the carpet, and turn toward me at the same time. The air carries a mix of sweat, milk, and morning porridge. Their eyes are alert. Their stance is steady. This is no longer the “learning to walk” phase. This is running.“Stop,” I say in a normal tone. I don’t raise my voice. I don’t need to. Both of them stop. Selin first, Kael half a step later. They don’t topple, don’t fall. Solid.The nurse pants, fatigue draped on her shoulders like stage props. “My lord, the latches are useless on the playpen now. Two moves and—” she gestures toward the children as proof.“I know.”Behind the “I know” lies two weeks of testing: higher bars, stronger locks, new straps.
Chronicles Of Moonblood 1. The Wounded Heart Chapter 11
6 a.m., and I’m already on my feet.The stone floor is cold in the room, dust sits beneath the edge of the rug—tiny triangle in the pattern. I must have missed it during last night’s cleaning. I open the window two finger-widths, count to forty, close it again. At the threshold, the guard shift changes as usual; the order of the clicks sounds like a drum solo: bolt, latch, buckle. The guard on the right is new—half a head shorter, but his posture is good. A nod, no words.Nyra is still asleep. Lying on her side, blanket to her waist, hand on the pillow. Her breathing is steady, no glistening sweat on her forehead—good. Kael is in the cradle, the cloth strap tied to the rail unmoving. I lay my hand on it, give it three long arcs, slow and steady. The baby stirs only on the second: a small, half-sound, then stillness again. Selin is in the next room with the nurse; I won’t bring her in right away today. First, I’ll get things in order outside.The chainmail rests on the chair. The shoul
Chronicles Of Moonblood 1. The Wounded Heart Chapter 10
AedanBy the time I reach the top of the stairs, there’s no air left in my lungs. My ribs ache, my breath comes in ragged gasps. The passage behind us has sealed shut; the light bounces off the stone walls, and suddenly our own great hall feels far too vast. Soldiers haul up the barricade, armor clinks, someone shouts for water.I look at Nyra.In her arms is the small bundle. No bigger than a sack of flour, yet heavy as if the whole world fit inside. Kael. Wrapped in the edge of my cloak, face turned inward. A faint, muffled whimper comes from within — the kind of sound that tells you instinctively it’s nothing serious, but you have to check right away.“Give him to me — let me hold him while we catch our breath,” I say, reaching out.Nyra nods, but the motion falters halfway. Her eyes lose focus, like the world itself has shifted half a finger’s width. Her shoulders tremble. It’s not fear I see — it’s depletion. The light she sent across that cursed bridge took everything from her.
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