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187.Our Allies

مؤلف: Lino
last update آخر تحديث: 2026-02-03 16:43:56

Elira

I am back in the Sliver Fang, and the walls know my name.

They remember my blood, the sound of my breath when I was smaller, weaker, still learning how to keep my shoulders squared when fear tried to bow them. The keep rises around me in slate and bone, banners snapping in the winter wind like teeth chattering. Victory should taste sweet after everything we’ve taken back—but it doesn’t.

It tastes like iron.

Like mockery.

It never feels good to backtrack.

To show the world your failure, to
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  • Reborn Luna   220. Epilogue

    KeithThe first time I hold my son, the world narrows to the weight of him in my arms.Everything else—wars, trials, blood, crowns—falls away like ash in the wind.He is small. Red-faced. Furious at the cold air he’s been forced into. His cry is sharp and indignant, and it slices straight through my chest.Hope laughs weakly from the bed, sweat-damp hair clinging to her temples. “He sounds like you.”My wolf lifts his head inside me, stunned into reverent silence.He is ours.“Yes,” I breathe, voice rough. “He is.”The healer finishes wrapping him and places him back into my hands properly this time. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until I finally let it go.He’s warm.Fragile.And stronger than anything I have ever known.Hope reaches for him, and I kneel beside her so she doesn’t have to strain. The moment our son is laid against her chest, he quiets. Instantly.My wolf’s chest rumbles low with pride. He knows his mother.Hope presses her lips to the top of his head. Tears

  • Reborn Luna   219. We need you

    HopeThe burial smoke still clings to my hair.Even after washing. Even after the wind has shifted and carried the ashes toward the western cliffs.It lingers.The meadow is quieter now than it was during the trial. No raised voices. No growls. Just soft crying. The dull thud of earth hitting wood. The creak of leather armor as warriors kneel for the last time before graves carved too soon.We lost good people.Pack wolves. Lycan warriors. Young ones who had barely taken their first shift. Elders who had survived three wars only to fall in this one.My wolf presses against my ribs, restless and grieving. We should have been faster. Stronger.“We survived,” I whisper back to her. “That matters too.”She exhales, a low aching sound. Survival is not the same as victory.No. It isn’t.This was never going to be costless though, was it?There is always a high price for freedom.But as I stand beside Keith, my fingers laced through his, I feel something else weaving through the sorrow.Reli

  • Reborn Luna   218.Final verdict

    KeithThe council hall is too small for this many predators.Even in human skin, we radiate teeth.I sit at the head of the long oak table, hands braced against the wood, and feel the weight of every gaze in the room. Riven stands near the far window, shoulders rigid, as if he could outrun what we’re about to decide. Jeb leans back with forced ease, boots crossed. Silas and Thorne flank the door like carved sentinels. Damon’s fingers drum once against the table before stilling. Xavior watches everyone and no one, calculating.At my right sits Tessa, chin lifted. Beside her, Elena and her mate, all quiet grace and ancient power. And at my left—Hope.My mate’s knee brushes mine beneath the table. The contact is small. It steadies me more than any show of dominance ever could.He should have died on the battlefield, my Lycan growls inside me, a low vibration beneath my ribs. We are wasting breath.“We’re not executing him in the dark,” I murmur inwardly. “We’re not becoming what he was.

  • Reborn Luna   217.Blood and storm

    CamilleThe courtyard smells like iron and rain.Blood and storm.I stand in the center of it with my hood shadowing my face, the pack ringed around us in a broken circle. Their eyes glow in the dark—gold, blue, green—but none of them step forward. They can’t.They wear her collars.Black iron bands etched with sigils I memorized as a child.I lift my head slowly.Across from me, my grandmother waits in her beast form.Her form towers above my human height, spine arched, fur silvered like moonlight caught in frost. Her eyes burn an ancient amber.The glint of the collar on the wolf packs whose hands she forced.The smell of death builds around us and I don’t have time to think of all the people who gve up there lives, whose lives were taken.“What is this? After all I’ve done for you, you would dare stand against me,” she growls, voice layered—human and wolf braided into something monstrous.I reach up and push back my hood.Gasps ripple through the courtyard.I hear Mira growl sharpl

  • Reborn Luna   216. Elven blood

    HopeI close my eyes.The massive wolf above me rears back, jaws opening wide, hot breath washing over my face.This is it.My wolf goes still inside me—not in surrender, but in defiance.My energy is low, pain rising but I'm not ready to give in.I feel the tremor of his growl through the stone beneath my back. Blood pools warm beneath my shoulder. My vision swims, but I force my eyes open one last time.If I die, I’ll die looking at my enemy.His teeth descend—And the night explodes.A sharp, ringing sound slices through the air, like crystal shattering. Light—bright, silver-blue light—slashes across the chamber.The wolf above me jerks violently.An arrow made of pure luminescence pierces through his shoulder and pins him to the wall.He howls.Not in triumph.In agony.I blink, dazed.Shapes pour through the tunnel entrance behind the rogues—tall, armored figures moving with impossible grace. Their blades glow with the same ethereal light as the arrow.Elves.For a heartbeat, I t

  • Reborn Luna   215.That is not ours

    HopeThe sound rips through the tunnels like something dragged straight out of hell.It isn’t a howl.It isn’t even a roar.It’s a guttural, twisted call that scrapes against the concrete walls and claws its way into my bones.My wolf jerks violently inside me. That is wrong. That is not ours.My heart stutters.Keith.He’s out there.Tirianna. Lina. All of them.The security tunnel smells like metal and fear—oil from the generators, damp earth, sickness, antiseptic. Women huddle with their children. Elders sit on cots. A few of the sick are wrapped in blankets against the cold that always lives underground.And that sound echoes again.Closer.Emma appears at my side, her face pale but steady. “I don’t like the sound of that.”“Neither do I,” I whisper.My wolf paces, hackles raised. It calls a challenge. It calls blood.EliraThe ground trembles.Dust sifts down from the ceiling.Then—A pounding.Heavy. Deliberate.Too close.Too close.An enforcer barrels down the corridor toward

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