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Chapter Nine
Last Updated:
2025-09-06 10:27:26
Latest chapter
Chronicles Of Moonblood 1. The Wounded Heart Chapter Twelve
NyraTime—usually a balm—only adds weight to the palace walls today. Three weeks have passed since Vareth’s departure and since I said aloud, before the council, what everyone already felt: the throne no longer belongs to one man alone. The palace has settled back into its familiar rhythm—guard rotations, drills in the courtyard, servants at their tasks—yet something lingers in the quiet. Something that does not pass.I stand at the window, a soft cloak over my shoulders, my hair braided long over my left collarbone. My hand rests on my belly; in the past days the twins have grown livelier. Sometimes they seek each other; sometimes they pull apart—as if they too were wrestling their own balance. What troubles me isn’t the pregnancy. It’s the silence. This silence is different. Not soothing, not peaceful. It feels like someone is holding their breath.Aedan fastens the cuffs of his shirt at the dressing table. His movements are measured, but I see the tension settled into his shoulders
Chronicles Of Moonblood 1. The Wounded Heart Chaptet Eleven
RowanThe edge of the world is not sharp. Not even visible. Whoever crosses it cannot say where the living ends and the other begins. Neither could I. I only felt something shift beneath me, like ice cracking underfoot but not yet breaking. The air ceased. My body did not feel cold, yet my bones trembled. I knew where I had come.I dropped to my knees. Not only out of respect—here, there was no other way to endure. Shadow enfolded me, but it did not dim the light, nor swallow it; it had never let it in. Before me, the throne. Not built, not brought—it was the one wound of the world that had never closed. Its blackness was not color but intent: merciless, cold. Its form shifted—tower, arch, wolf’s claw—yet its presence was the same: here, there was no mercy. Only purpose.When the voice came, it was not the first time it called me.“On your knees. As always.”It asked nothing. Stated nothing. It reminded. I closed my eyes. My wrist burned with the seal; the mark under my skin glowed, a
Chronicles Of Moonblood 1. The Wounded Heart Chapter Ten
AedanThe silence Nyra’s words left behind was deeper than any these walls had ever known.It wasn’t born of fear. Nor mere astonishment. It was the kind of silence that descends when everyone realizes a new force has stepped among them. The voice they’d thought soft rang through the hall like the strike of an ancient bell. The council no longer looked to one another. They looked at her. Only her. I felt her shoulders lift, her stance straighten. Her heart still beat fast, but no longer from fear—from recognition: they heard her. They no longer saw only my partner. Not only the mother of what is to come. They saw someone capable of ruling.For a single heartbeat our eyes met. I knew what I had to do—more precisely: I knew it was hers to say now.She stepped forward. Her voice was clear and steady—no shout, yet it filled the chamber.“As the king’s consort… and as the mother of his children… and as the future Luna and queen… I hereby adjourn today’s council.”The arrow was already in f
Chronicles Of Moonblood 1. The Wounded Heart Chapter Nine
AedanThe door to our chambers closed softly behind us.I didn’t speak. With my back to Nyra, fists clenched, I walked to the hearth. The coals were still alive, but I didn’t put on wood. I didn’t need warmth. I needed silence.I heard her bare feet approach over the stone. Since the dull thud of the door, neither of us had said a word, yet the air weighed on us as if it were made of words.At last I spoke, eyes on the embers.“I didn’t think he’d affect you like that.”“It didn’t just affect me,” she said quietly. “It felt familiar.”I turned.For the first time I really saw her face: not frightened, not confused—alert. As if some memory rising from deep within danced behind her eyes.“I’ve never seen you look like that,” I said. “The way you looked at him… just a heartbeat, but it was like something cut into you.”She nodded, walked to the sofa, and sat. Her palms came to rest on her belly, protective, instinctive.“I can’t explain it,” she said. “It wasn’t an image. I don’t know ho
Chronicles Of Moonblood 1. The Wounded Heart Chapter Eight
Nyra The darkness didn’t lift with the dream.I woke with a scream. My voice split the pre-dawn half-light like a blade, as if I had to warn the world that something inside me had broken. The sheet was soaked, the blanket twisted tight around my legs, my hair stuck to my face. I gulped at the air, heart hammering as if I were still running. My eyes were wide, but I saw nothing—only the dull blot of moonlight on the glass.And the voice. The woman’s voice. The one who said, in my dream, that she was my mother.The Moon Goddess.“Two children. One of light. One of shadow. But you cannot keep them both.”I trembled and pressed my hand to my belly on instinct, as if I could shield what I carried that way. The words still tolled through me like ill-omened bells. The dream had been too clear, too detailed, too… real. It didn’t feel like a vision. It felt like a prophecy. A warning. Tears slipped free without a sound. It wasn’t mere fear that made me cry, but the realization that the choice
Chronicles Of Moonblood 1. The Wounded Heart Chapter Seven
My fingers traced slow circles across Aedan’s chest. It wasn’t a conscious movement—more an instinct, a quiet, soothing refrain. I wanted to feel that he was here. That we were truly here. Not a dream, not an image my mind fled to among the ghosts of the past: reality. The steamy, fragrant water, the warmth of stone, the breath of rose and honey, and the man whose every line whispered into me: you’re safe.Aedan combed his fingers through my hair, skimming slowly over my nape, then down my back to my waist. Not with hunger, not possessively—more as if he were studying my lines so he could remember them later, if he couldn’t be beside me. And that was what frightened me for a heartbeat.Because I knew it couldn’t stay like this forever.“What are you thinking?” he asked in that deep, rough, patient voice. He didn’t rush me; he just watched. He always watched. I didn’t answer right away. The soft lap of the water filled the silence as I eased out of his arms and leaned my elbows on the
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