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Chapter 22 Re-run
Last Updated:
2021-08-23 23:33:59
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Will Bear the Moon Chapter 88 Finders Reapers
*Mykhol*The high vaulted ceiling still trembled with the aftermath of her voice. It clung to the carved stone like smoke after a fire—sharp, commanding, impossible to ignore.The resonance hung thicker than the firepits still crackling hungrily into the woodpiles, the scent of burning oak and pine mixing with the heady perfumes of the nobility. Even now, the echo of it shivered down his spine, raising the fine hairs on his arms beneath layers of silk and velvet.Gods, that voice. He’d nearly trembled at the sound of it.He hadn’t known Ana could raise her voice like that—clean and precise, like a sword drawn just before the strike. The raw power of it had rippled through the court, causing silks to flutter and jewels to shiver against throats. And though her words hadn't been aimed at him, they'd slipped under his skin just the same, igniting a slow, molten ache beneath his ribs that spread downward like liquid fire.His fingers twitched at his side, the leather of his gloves creakin
Will Bear the Moon Chapter 87 Crows and Crowns
*Anastasia*The echo of the court doors sealing shut behind me brings instant relief—until it doesn’t. The sound is soft and clean on it hinges as it clicks behind me, a whisper of finality rather than the slam my trembling hands wanted to deliver. But somehow, that gentle sound feels heavier than any thunderous crash could have been.As if I had to will the doors closed with more than force—with all my spine, with silence, with the last shreds of composure I can manage to scrape together against the turbulence raging inside. For an instant, the sound feels final. Solid. Like the world has agreed to stop pressing against my skull, to grant me a single moment of mercy.For a breathless moment, the corridor offers stillness. No voices clamoring over mine. No red eyes mercilessly looking at me as if daring to see the first sign of weakness. No judgment hanging in the air like a blade waiting to fall.Just cold air scented with the faint lingering ghosts of wax and candle smoke, the subtl
Will Bear the Moon Chapter 86 The Center Tilts
*Ana*“Riots in Pave. Fourteen Nochten citizens dead.”The words strike the court like an executioner's axe meeting stone—sharp, final, reverberating over the crackle of the fire pits, the bitter wind outside, across the arched ceiling and through the marble floor until I feel them in my teeth. The vibration climbs through my slippers, past silk stockings, into the marrow of my bones where it settles like frozen glass.I blink, and read them again, willing the ink to reshape itself into something that makes sense. It doesn’t. The ink remains unchanged, stubborn in its terrible clarity.“Bulgeon casualties. Numbers unlisted.” Something inside me lurches—a ship's deck dropping beneath my feet in a storm swell. My knees threaten betrayal, and I catch myself with a micro-adjustment of weight that only Nugen, standing close enough to hear my breathing change, might notice. But I feel it—the way my center tilts like a cup about to spill, the way my breath catches halfway up my throat and
Will Bear the Moon Chapter 85 Echoes of a Battlefiled
*Admiral Nugen The air in the court was too still—dense, like velvet soaked rot festering in shadow, carrying a silence so weighty it pressed against eardrums like delving too deep beneath dark water.Admiral Nugen shifted where he stood near the edge of the chamber, half-sunk into shadow beneath the high-arched entry, the ceremonial weight of his sword hung heavier than usual against his hip, the silver-detailed armor dragging at his frame like iron shackles. It wasn't the metal—it was the wet. Days and days of ceaseless rain had soaked into everything: stone, silk, bone. Even breath felt waterlogged.Movement was like wading through a shallow tide that never receded. The rain had stopped, finally, but only just—the memory of it still clung to the walls, to the air, to the hollow spaces between his ribs.Above, thick gray clouds clogged the sky like wool packed tight against glass pressing down on the palace's ancient towers. They didn't want to rain. They didn't want to snow. They
Will Bear the Moon Chapter 84 Shoot the Messenger
*Naska* The hallways blurred white around her like fever dreams.Heels struck hard against the marble, each sharp clap echoing off the vaulted arches like vulture caws as Naska flew through the corridor, grace abandoned to desperation. Cold air clawed at her throat with every ragged breath, her chest constricting beneath the threadbare bodice of her weak muslin gown. The silver platter rattled wildly in her trembling grip, porcelain fragments skating across its lip like dice in a gambler's cup. Coffee splashed against her wrist—scalding, bitter—while one stubborn shard still held its delicate gold rim, chiming faintly with every jostle like a cracked bell.None of it mattered. Not the coffee, not the mess, not the pain blooming across her knuckles where broken ceramic had drawn blood.I have to get to Mykhol.The corridor tunneled,narrowing until her world became nothing but the relentless pounding of her pulse and the echo of her Empress's voice stabbing through her skull like a se
Will Bear the Moon Chapter 83 The Weight of Rain
*Anastasia*The velvet beneath my palms is damp with more than rain—it trembles with the quiet shake I've only now begun to notice threading through my bones.I press down harder, willing the feeling to smooth out beneath the pressure, willing the tremor to settle before my fingers must meet the brass of the doorknob. Willing myself to feel certain again, though certainty feels as distant as summer warmth.The east corridor ahead breathes quiet and warm, flushed with the gentle flickering of the sconces overhead. I see no servants, but their absence feels deliberate—as if they've scattered like sparrows before a storm. Likely steering clear of Hidi, like usual, as much as they can help it. The giantess is still having that effect after all these years, but might as well. I release a breath held too long, the kind of breath that tastes of secrets and sounds like someone listening just around the corner. My boots leave soft, dark prints across the rose-colored carpet runner, each step
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