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2025-06-14 01:47:32
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The Rogue Luna 27
Charollet felt the dawn break over the shrine with a weight in her chest she could not name. When morning light filtered across the glassy surface of the ancient pool she had touched days before, the water had remained still, almost lifeless. But beneath the surface she sensed something stirring. Not magic. Not blood. Something older. Something that had waited for her arrival.She awoke in silence. The tents around the shrine slept under pale skies. Redmaw warriors had formed a ring of watch but none entered the shrine circle itself. Volgrin had insisted on a safe boundary. Not distance born of fear but ritual respect. Today was important. Everything would shift.The morning air was gray and cold, sharper than Charollet expected. She pushed the blanket from her shoulders and stepped toward the circle. The ground underfoot felt alive. A quiet thrum echoed through
The Rogue Luna 26
The woods had turned strange. Trees whispered in a voice Charollet could not understand. Their trunks twisted toward her as if remembering something ancient. The branches sagged under the weight of snow that did not fall, casting the trail in dull silver. They had walked for days now, deeper into the wilderness that bordered the northeastern edge of the realm. Volgrin walked ahead, surrounded by his guards, his pace unwavering. Behind him, Redmaw warriors flanked Charollet with cruel vigilance. She was not bound, not anymore, but she may as well have been. The threat of their claws kept her silent.Each step felt heavier. The path they followed was barely visible beneath layers of pine needles and frost. It did not resemble a road so much as a memory, resurrected from the earth for their passage. She had begun to notice how the birds no longer sang. Even the wolves, creatures of sound and scent, made no noise here. Whatever place they neared, it had a soul. One that watched.Volgrin’s
The Rogue Luna 25
The Rogue Luna 24
The air inside the Redmaw stronghold felt thick with ash and old secrets. Charollet had lost count of the days. Sunlight never touched the stone floor of the room they kept her in. Instead, a dull crimson glow filtered through the blood-tinted glass above, painting her skin with the color of dried wounds. The silence was deceptive, disturbed only by the occasional howl that drifted through the cracks in the mountain walls.She sat curled on a cot that was too thin to bring rest. Her wrists were bruised, not from chains, but from the cold grip of the warriors who came and went as if she were a relic. They touched her only when necessary, spoke little, and avoided her eyes. The few words they did speak were orders or prayers. They treated her not as a prisoner, but as something far more dangerous.As if she might unmake them with a single breath.The door groaned open again. Volgrin entered, his heavy boots leaving streaks of mud and frost across the stone floor. His presence filled the
The Rogue Luna 23
The Redmaw stronghold was unlike Darkfang’s great stone halls. It rose from the mountain’s belly like a wound, a fortress carved into black rock and braced with iron spines. No moonlight reached its deepest corridors. No warmth lingered in its breathless chambers. It was a prison made not only of stone, but of silence.Charollet had not seen the sky in days.The chamber she was held in was low and narrow, a crescent of carved obsidian and dirt packed hard enough to scrape skin. There were no windows, only a thin vent of smoke through which the torchlight above flickered and sent ribbons of soot to collect on the uneven floor. Her arms ached where iron shackles pressed bone against stone. She had long since stopped struggling.But she had not stopped thinking.She had not cried, either.Volgrin had ensured that. Tears, he told her, were a luxury for the unbroken.Each day, he came down to see her. Never at the same hour. Sometimes with food. Other times, with threats.Always with inten
The Rogue Luna 22
Before Kade was a warrior, before he was a Beta, and long before he ever dreamed of claiming the Darkfang throne, he was a child hiding behind stone pillars, watching wolves tear each other apart.He had not been born into power. His mother was a healer, soft-spoken and too kind for the cold stone halls that ruled the Darkfang Pack. His father had been a warrior, brutal and quick-tempered, killed in a border skirmish when Kade was five years old. After his death, Kade and his mother had been moved to the servants' quarters. Their rooms were narrow, their windows too small, and their words had to be chosen carefully. There were ears everywhere in Darkfang. Even the stone listened.In those early years, Kade learned not to speak unless spoken to. He learned how to walk without making sound, how to count the seconds between patrols, and how to disappear into shadows. He had to. Because the pack he belonged to was not merciful.Darkfang’s glory had always been forged in blood. That was wh
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