The moon bled red in the sky.An omen.A warning.Selene stood at the highest tower of the Moonspire Fortress, arms folded tightly across her chest, wind snapping her cloak behind her like black wings. Below her, the outlands stretched in shadows, forests once ruled by peace now patrolled by fear. Her eyes gleamed silver in the darkness, and for the first time in weeks… they were dry.Ryker was alive.But he was no longer hers.He walked the corridors like a ghost; silent, lost, glancing past her as though she were a stranger. The bond that once pulsed between them had shattered with the crystal’s light, and whatever piece of him remained behind the glow in that magical coma… wasn’t coming back on its own.And Selene? She no longer had the luxury of heartbreak.Not when the Council had declared war on her throne.Not when her own people were too afraid to speak her name aloud.Not when her own people were too afraid to speak her name aloud.She turned away from the window, her fingers
Chapter 17: The Moon’s Secret KeeperThe moon hung low over the ravaged sky, smeared with silver clouds that danced like restless ghosts. Deep in the heart of the Rogues' reclaimed territory, Selene sat beside a flickering fire surrounded by the loyal few who remained at her side. The smoke twisted upward, casting shifting shadows against her solemn face.Her eyes were far away, locked on something no one else could see."She's calling again, isn't she?" Lucien asked, crouching near the fire with a hand on his sword hilt.Selene nodded slowly. "Every time I close my eyes... it's her voice. The same chant. Over and over. Something ancient. I can’t understand it yet, but I think I can feel it."He glanced around the clearing. "And you're sure it's not a trap?""Yes." Her voice was sharper than she intended. "It’s not the council. It’s older than them. It's her."Lucien stilled. “The Moon’s Secret Keeper?”Selene's lips parted at the name. She hadn't spoken it aloud. Not yet. But somethi
The earth beneath Selene trembled as she dropped to her knees in the Vale, her chest heaving with a scream that never left her lips.Her bond to Ryker... was tearing.She clutched her chest, eyes wide in horror as searing pain cracked through her soul, splintering her breath, unraveling her strength."No," she whispered, the word too small to contain the terror inside her.Then came the scream. Raw, visceral, and ancient.It echoed across the mountains and burned through the sky.Animals bolted. The trees quivered. The moon itself dimmed.Selene's eyes glowed silver, tears cascading down her cheeks as the bond between her and Ryker snapped like brittle glass. The force of it hurled her backward against the stones of the sacred Vale.She didn’t move.Didn’t speak.Didn’t breathe.The world had gone silent.And for the first time in her life, Selene wanted to die.Back at the BattlefieldLucien was drenched in blood; most of it not his own. He gripped Ryker’s body, dragging it out of th
The wind carried the scent of ash and jasmine.Selene stood at the balcony of the reclaimed Council fortress, overlooking the now-quiet ruins of what had been a battlefield. She wore a robe of midnight silk that billowed like shadow around her. The Lunar Crown, jagged and imperfect, rested in her hand instead of on her head. She hadn’t decided if she would wear it.Not yet.Not when her heart still ached.Not when Ryker, alive but… changed, slept behind her.Because bringing someone back from the dead didn’t come without cost.And the weight of that truth had begun to seep into her bones.One week earlier…The night Ryker drew his first breath again had been the most euphoric and terrifying moment of Selene’s life.He’d clutched her hand with urgency, as though returning from a place of nightmares. His golden eyes glowed with a strange silver undertone—remnants of the Moonborn power that brought him back.His touch was warm. His voice was the same.But something in his spirit… wasn’t.
"Ryker, please…"Selene’s voice was barely above a whisper as she cradled him against her chest.The world around her was eerily silent. The battlefield, once alive with the chaos of war, now lay still. Bodies of warriors, both ally and enemy, were strewn across the blood-soaked ground. The air was thick with the scent of death, the metallic tang of blood still clinging to her tongue.But none of it mattered.Not when he lay lifeless in her arms.Her hands trembled as she brushed his damp, raven-black hair away from his face. Ryker had always been so full of life, so untamed. Even in the midst of battle, he fought with a smirk, as if death could never touch him.But now…Now, his body was limp, his golden eyes closed, his once-powerful chest unmoving.A sob tore through Selene’s throat."No, no, no... don’t do this to me," she begged, pressing her forehead against his. "You promised. You promised we would do this together."But there was no answer. No teasing remark. No cocky grin.On
The darkness was alive.Selene gasped as the Void surged toward her, tendrils of shadow coiling around her limbs like sentient chains. It wasn’t just darkness; it was hunger, an endless abyss that wanted to consume her whole. She struggled, thrashing as the cold seeped into her bones, her power flaring wildly in resistance."Selene!" Ryker’s voice barely reached her ears before he was wrenched back by an unseen force. He hit the ground hard, his growl of frustration muffled by the swirling storm of shadows.Selene’s breath came in short, sharp bursts. The Void whispered to her, its voice a chorus of lost souls, of forgotten nightmares."You are mine… you were always meant to belong to the darkness…"“No!” Selene roared, her golden eyes flashing as she summoned every ounce of her strength. The Lunar Flame ignited within her, blazing through her veins like liquid fire. The shadows recoiled at the searing light, hissing and writhing as she pushed back against their suffocating grip.A f
A void of endless darkness. A silence so absolute it pressed against her bones.Selene was nowhere and everywhere, her body weightless, floating in a place that had no beginning or end. Her heartbeat was the only sound in the abyss, pounding in a frantic, uneven rhythm.She reached for the fire inside her; the Lunar Flame that had always been a part of her, her greatest weapon, her light.But it was gone.A hollow space remained where it once burned, replaced by something… different. Colder. Darker. Hungrier.She clenched her fists, frustration and panic warring inside her."Where am I?"The void did not answer, but something else did."You are home."A shiver crept down her spine at the voice. It was deep, smooth, wrapping around her like silk. It carried a power that seeped into her skin, into her very essence."Who are you?" she demanded, pushing against the pull of the void.A figure emerged from the darkness.Tall. Cloaked in shadows that rippled like liquid night. Eyes like burn
The torches lining the grand hall flickered violently, casting eerie shadows along the stone walls. The once-celebratory air of the palace had thickened, turning heavy with something unseen; something wrong. Selene stood at the center of the throne room, her fingers tightening around the arms of her throne.A deep, primal unease crawled up her spine.The voices had started as whispers in the wind, murmurs carried from the edges of the forest. At first, she had dismissed them as paranoia, a trick played by exhaustion. But tonight, the whispers turned into screams.A guard stumbled into the hall, his breathing ragged, his face ghostly pale. "My Queen," he gasped, dropping to one knee. "They're here."Selene stood instantly, her pulse quickening. "Who?"The guard’s eyes flickered with something close to terror. "The dead."A bone-chilling howl echoed through the night, rattling the very foundations of the palace. The sound was unnatural, distorted, like voices from another realm. The tem
Mist curled through the spires of Emberstone Keep as dawn bled across the eastern sky. Nyra stood atop the Weeping Terrace, cloak drawn tight against the wind’s chill. Below her, the newly rebuilt courtyard shimmered, obsidian mosaic tiles glinting like embers in the low light.“Ryker,” she called, voice carrying across the terrace. He emerged from the mist, sword still sheathed but eyes alight with vigilance.“I heard whispers,” he said, stepping beside her. “The border provinces stir. Rumors of unrest.”Nyra nodded. “We have forged a fragile peace. Now we must tend its coals before they die.”A horn sounded from below. More urgent than ceremonial. Nyra drew her cloak around her shoulders and descended the spiral stairs, Ryker at her side.In the Hall of Flames, a great circular chamber carved from volcanic rock, seats of moonwood and prism-glass circled the central dais. Around them waited the Circle of Free Sovereigns:Selene, High Starmarshal of the Moonborn GuardKaelia, Keeper o
The dawn sky was an unnatural tapestry of ash-gray and blood-red, no sun would rise again. Instead, a searing corona of living flame crowned the horizon, heralding the Eternal Queen’s rule.Nyra stood atop the scorched ramparts of the Bloodforge Keep, her dual circlet of ash and ember still pulsed against her brow. Behind her, Selene knelt at the side of the great cradle, an obsidian throne carved for a child, wrought in bone and rune. The twins, now five summers old and quick beyond belief, clung to their mother’s skirts, eyes bright with fear and wonder.Around them, the outcasts and allies of every realm gathered in reverent silence. Fendrel Windrider stood watch, his storm-gray eyes glinted with both pride and sorrow. Kharon Boneclaw’s fur bristled in the dawn wind, his horns caught the flaming light like molten metal. Seraphiel Dawnstar hovered above, wings folded, golden feathers drifting like dying sunbeams. Ryker and Caelum formed a silent guard, their blades stained with coun
A week of storm-wrought skies had passed since the Black Ember ritual. The Mirror Reborn’s banner, broken mirror over twin moons, now flew above an encampment in the ruins of the Sunless Spire. Exiles and outcasts from every realm; rogues, shifters, fallen angels, demon-spawn, mustered beneath it. Their queen had proven her power: Ash and Shadow, Fire and Death.But tonight, despair flickered on lips.Nyra stood atop the shattered altar, holding the raven’s bloodstained letter. Ink of iron-red spelled a single sentence in her twin’s hand:“Come to the Bloodforge Keep or lose everything... your daughters, your lovers, your soul.”She crushed the parchment, letting crimson flakes drift away. Around her, Selene clasped Ryker’s hand, Caelum and Kaelia exchanged grim smiles.Selene’s storm-gray gaze met Nyra’s silver-gold. “This is the final summons.”Ryker knelt, head bowed. “We go together, or we fall apart.”Caelum’s voice was steel. “No power left unclaimed.”Kaelia drew the twins clos
A week had passed since the Mirror Reborn and her followers left the shrine. Their banner, broken mirror over twin moons, flapped in every wind. They’d recruited outcasts and exiles from border villages; their ranks swelled with warriors once loyal to no king.But another summons echoed across the wild lands, this one darker.From the scorched fields of Volkrash, where ash rained from permanent ember skies, came two riders, black-cloaked envoys bearing an ebony scroll. They advanced upon the Mirror Reborn’s camp, where she and her companions rested in the ruins of a fire-forged fortress.Nyra sat at the campfire’s edge, twins cooing in Kaelia’s lap, Ryker sharpened his blade; Caelum inspected recruits; Selene meditated beneath broken battlements.A rider knelt before Nyra, eyes hidden beneath cowl. They presented the ebony scroll sealed by scarlet wax bearing the symbol of the Fire King: a crown of molten rock.Nyra lifted a brow. “Read it.”The rider’s voice was low and rasping. “Que
Night lingered with a violet bruise across the sky as Nyra Duskbane and her small company fled through the Wild Lands of Ebonreach. The air smelled of iron and ash ; grasses shivered with silver dew under a dying moon.Nyra rode at the front, her daughters cradled against her chest, their soft breaths warm on her shoulder. Kaelia led the twins on a second mare ; Caelum and Ryker flanked each side like sentinels of storm and ruin. Selene walked behind, cloak billowing, eyes storm-gray as distant lightning.They were fugitives now, hunted by every army they had once commanded, chased by prophecies that branded them as outcasts. Each night they pressed farther from the Citadel ; each dawn brought new dangers—bandits, elementals, warlords who demanded tribute or blood.Tonight, Nyra paused beside an obsidian shrine, pillars carved with ancient runes of warding. She dismounted, daughters in arms, and sank to her knees on jagged stones.“This shrine,” she murmured, fingertips tracing the ru
Nyra Duskbane stood at the shattered threshold of every realm’s final gate, her daughter cradled in one arm, twins held tight by Kaelia. Behind her, Ryker and Caelum knelt amid cracked cobblestones, eyes downcast. Above, the Sacrificial Moon had waned to a thin sliver, and the sky bled dawn’s first light.They had refused the prophecy’s demand and spared the Daughter of Ash. Now, the realms had spoken: Nyra was anathema, her bloodline tainted by defiance.A chorus of trumpets sounded from the heavens. Angelic wings beat in chilling unison; the Celestial Host formed ranks along the ramparts. At the Citadel’s peak, Celena the Oracle-Mistress raised her staff, its blood-red gem dull for the first time since the Sacrificial Moon began.“Queen Nyra,” she intoned, voice resonant as cracked marble; “you have shattered the covenant. By the ancient laws, you are exiled from all seven realms. Your kingdom falls; your throne is no more.”Nyra’s heart hammered. She tightened her grip on her daugh
Night draped Silver Fang Citadel in velvet darkness, but no lanterns burned. Every torch had been extinguished in reverence of the prophecy that now governed their fate. In the central courtyard, beneath the shattered bell tower, Nyra Duskbane stood alone with her daughter cradled in her arms. The twins and Ryker and Caelum watched from the battlements, hearts suspended in fragile hope.Above them, the moon carved a silver crescent into the sky, its light weak and quivering. They called it the Sacrificial Moon tonight, for an ancient oracle had whispered that only under this waning sliver could the realms be saved... or lost forever.Nyra’s daughter cooed softly, her wide silver eyes reflecting the pale lunar glow. Kaelia knelt beside her, offering gentle reassurance. Ryker rested a hand on Nyra’s shoulder; Caelum stood guard by the stair.All other souls had withdrawn, not a single sentinel remained. Even angels and wolves honored this grim vigil with silence.Nyra raised her head, v
The Citadel’s shattered bells still trembled in the dawn air when the ivory bone banners of the northern legion advanced, spectral warriors clad in furnaced steel, armor glimmering like ghost fire. Nyra Duskbane stood on the ramparts, her threefold runes dim after Mother of Ruin’s defeat, her cloak torn but her spirit unbroken. Beside her, Ryker leaned on Urhan’s broad shoulder, Caelum and Kaelia watched the children with wary eyes, and Aelion hovered in wounded grace under silver wings.“Queen Nyra,” Aelion’s voice rang like folding wings; “they answer a war chant older than the Covenant. They seek the Mistress of Ash.”Nyra’s gaze never left the legion. “They come for me... and for her,” she breathed; “the one I betrayed.”Below, the ivory legion halted. At their forefront strode a figure wreathed in living embers: Azrath, the Flamebound Prince of the Infernal Halls. His horns gleamed with molten brimstone, wings of shadow-smoke fanned behind him, and in his scarred hand he carried
Silver Fang Citadel’s gates groaned on their hinges as the dark banner of the Crimson Covenant unfurled against a sky still breaking into dawn. Nyra Duskbane stood atop the ramparts with Ryker at her side and Caelum Varis just behind, the twin daughters in Kaelia’s arms. Their battered host, angels, wolves, demon-hunters, lined the walls, hearts pounding at the sight of fresh legions.“You see them?” Ryker whispered, voice tight. “Thousands of warriors… clad in coilmail that shifts like oil.”Nyra’s gaze was fixed on the valley below. The Covenant’s war drums rolled like thunder, a warning that made even the Celestial Host flinch. “They come not for us,” she murmured, “but for the world we’ve fought to save.”Aelion hovered at her shoulder, wings folded in silent vigilance. “They march under the sign of the Obsidian Mother,” he said. “A goddess of ruin, worshipped by those who would see creation burn.”Nyra’s heart clenched. “I know that sign,” she replied, voice low. “It’s hers... my