Todos os capítulos de The Luna of Death: Capítulo 61 - Capítulo 70

Nikitas pov As dawn began to drape the horizon with its gentle light, I found myself cloaked in solitude, nestled within the carriage that would escort me to the Elders' city. The rhythmic clatter of the wheels against the cobblestones was a soundtrack that matched the tumultuous cadence of my thoughts. I preferred to travel alone, with no guards, not even Iian by my side. This was a journey I had to undertake without them. After all, there was little sense in dragging others into the focal point of my fate—a fate heavy with the sins of my father.The outline of the Elders' city emerged intricately against the morning light. I clutched my father’s journal tightly under the folds of my cloak. Its presence was both a source of comfort and a haunting reminder of the legacy I had inherited. My father had managed to evade justice for the crimes he committed, shaping me into a creature burdened by the weight of his misdeeds. Yet, the irony remained—I would come to answer for his sins, to f

Rykors povAs I emerged from the carriage, the crisp coolness of Elder City enveloped me. My eyes immediately caught sight of another carriage, the insignia unmistakable. Nikita was already here. My heart sank. I had hoped to reach the Elders before her, to plead her case, to argue that her past did not define her future. Her father's sins should not be her shackles.Without wasting another moment, I strode towards her carriage. The driver, a grizzled man with weary eyes, acknowledged me with a nod. “Where is she?” I demanded, urgency slipping into my voice."In the council chamber," he replied. "Been there for hours. The Elders are not treating her well; it doesn’t bode well for her."My pulse quickened as I dashed up the stone steps, each one feeling like an eternity. When I burst through the heavy oak doors, my gaze immediately fell upon her. Nikita was seated on a rough wooden bench, her eyes cast downward, fixed on her cuffed hands. Her cloak covered her tremors of uncertainty, a

Nikita’s POV: "Very well then," his voice cut through the tension, rubbing the bridge of his nose with weariness. "Nikita Dalbullas, you have been called upon by the council to account for your actions and those of your fathers."I sat motionless, listening as he continued, the words like stones thrown into the quiet sea of the chamber."We have reviewed all your father's records," he said, anger shadowing his voice. “Alongside the documents presented today. There are reports from your own pack members listing the changes you have implemented. Yet…” He paused, looking directly at me, his eyes darkened with judgment. "The crimes you have committed are too severe to ignore. Despite the improvements in your leadership, you have continued to break our laws."The sudden creak of doors echoed through the room, and I turned instinctively. What I saw made my heart sink. Iian and other rogues I had welcomed into my pack were being forced into the room, iron shackles on their wrists, the clank

Nikitas PovI stood there, watching Yuri come rushing towards me, his sword ready to end my life. I didn't flinch or move; it was a decision I had made. If dying by his hand meant my pack would be safe from the chaos and destruction he course, then so be it. The bite of fear was absent, replaced instead by a serene acceptance of my fate.Yuri's scream echoed in the air as he made one final leap. Time seemed to slow, his approach taking eons. I closed my eyes, waiting for the cold kiss of steel and the subsequent void. The strike connected with a disturbingly soft sound, a sharp, searing pain slicing through my torso. Reflexively, I let out a gasping breath, opening my eyes to see the sword penetrating through me. It was surreal, like watching someone else succumb to their destiny.The blood that welled forth wasn't red but a deep, tar-like black. The curse. It seemed to mock every iota of ordinary life, even now. I glanced down, seeing Rykor pinning Yuri to the ground, fists raining d

Nikitas PovThe noise began as a whisper at the back of my mind, swelling into a roar that threatened to drown me in darkness. My limbs felt heavy, as if tethered to the earth by invisible chains. I opened my eyes, blinking against the harsh light, squinting to make sense of the world blurring around me. When the haze cleared, a face loomed above me. Familiar yet distant, like a dream I couldn’t grasp. Blinking rapidly, I forced the world into focus, and there she was—my mother. My breath caught, emotions flooding my heart with the force of a tidal wave. "Mother?" I managed to croak, voice breaking against the impossibility of her presence. Sitting up, I reached out, but the white mist swirling around us was all I touched. The noise, however, remained an incessant thrum in my ears. "What is happening?" I demanded, covering my ears with trembling hands. "Why are you here?" Her eyes brimmed with sorrow and something I couldn’t quite place, an edge of fear that cut into me with every