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Chaptet Thirty Three
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2025-08-30 00:08:06
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Chronicles Of Moonblood 1. The Wounded Heart Chapter Fourteen
NyraAz éjszaka vastagon borult a királyi lakosztályra. A holdfény ezüst csíkokat húzott a kőpadlóra, a selyemdrapériák hangtalanul lebegtek a hajnali huzatban. Aedan békésen aludt mellettem, oldalról ölelt, a karja védőn pihent a pocakomon, amely egyre kerekedőbben rejtegette a két szívdobbanást – az ikreket, akik egyszerre áldás és prófécia.A testem megfeszült.Sötét árnyékok gyűltek a szemem alá, ahogy az álom elnyelt. Először csak a megszokott, hűvös, suttogó köd kúszott elő – de most nem lassan merültem. Az álom rám tépett.⸻Egyedül álltam egy ismeretlen erdőben.Sűrű, majdnem fekete köd tekeredett a fák köré, a lomb közt vörös holdvilág szivárgott át. A levegő ragacsos volt, mint vérbe áztatott lehelet. Mezítláb álltam a hideg, nyálkás talajon; vas, nedves avar és valami idegen szag lengte körül, ami nem tartozott sem az élők, sem a holtak világához.A távolból sírás szűrődött – két gyermeki hang, egymásba kapaszkodva. Előre indultam. Futottam volna, de a lábam nem mozdult. A
Chronicles Of Moonblood 1. The Wounded Heart Chapter Thirteen
Nyra The noise of the council had died long ago, yet it still hummed behind my ears as we walked the palace corridors. Every step, every whisper echoed inside me. The carved stone walls that usually meant safety now felt like cautious, watchful eyes. Our apartment door clicked shut. Cassian slipped in last and drew it closed behind him. The room’s soft light and the hearth’s orange glow promised warmth—but none of us let ourselves fall for the illusion of home. Slowly I took off my cloak and laid it carefully over the armchair by the window. My hand settled on my belly. The twins were still, and yet I felt it: they were listening. They always listened. Aedan moved to the fire without a word and set another log on the coals. The flames crackled to life, warmer light washed over the room, but the tension didn’t melt. Cassian kept to the wall—as always: neither center stage nor fully in the background, but watching. “I feel,” I said quietly, “as if time has turned around us. With ea
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 Chapter Eleven
Rowan The 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
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
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