Semua Bab The Last Moonbane: Bab 81 - Bab 90

Ambrosius’s POVI’ve always known who Corwin was.Not because he told me.But because he didn't.Not when I was thirteen, and he sat at the end of the table, smiling too politely as my father slammed his fists into that same wood.Not when I was seventeen, and my elder brother disappeared after “disappointing the line.”Not when I seized the house seat, covered in blood, and he bowed so easily it almost made me suspicious.Corwin survived when no one else did.And not once did he flinch.Not when I cut down the ones who stood in my way.Not when I declared my name as heir, with no one left to contest it.He smiled. He congratulated me. And he stepped just far enough aside to look harmless.I should have looked deeper.I should have known.Now I stood in the black stone chamber he’d prepared, and the man I should’ve executed years ago watched me from behind a veil of shadow and magic.He was not angry. Not triumphant. Just… satisfied.“Do you think it was luck,” Corwin said, “that kept

Ambrosius’s POVCorwin's fortress was carved out of old stone and older silence.It didn't scream danger. That would have been merciful.Instead, it whispered—low, slow, maddening.Every corridor was symmetrical. Every turn familiar. It was a place meant to turn a hunter’s instincts against him.And I walked it alone.Not by choice.The rest of my team had been redirected—separated by a spatial distortion rune woven with blood-thread magic, invisible to the untrained. It triggered only once, and only for someone with a mixed blood signature.Like me.Clever.And very, very Corwin.The moment I crossed the inner threshold, I knew I was in trouble.My vision sharpened unnaturally.Too much.Light fractured. Shadows moved when they shouldn’t. My hearing spiked until I could count the heartbeats of rats nesting three floors below.My magic fluctuated. My

Seraphina’s POVI wasn’t supposed to know where he’d gone.That was the entire point, wasn’t it?Ambrosius had given me one of his looks—that maddeningly quiet, sharp thing—after the trial, and said, “Rest. The worst is over.”It hadn’t been a lie.It had been a command dressed as comfort.I didn’t rest.Because the worst wasn’t over.It had barely begun.I knew the signs.I’d seen the way Evangeline’s posture stiffened when I mentioned Corwin’s name. The slight delay when I asked if Ambrosius was still on estate grounds. The bare hesitation when I requested a briefing on the decoded messages from Linnea.And then there was the silence.The kind that fell around someone powerful when they no longer want to be watched.Ambrosius wasn’t hiding from his enemies.He was hiding from me.I found t

Seraphina’s POVAmbrosius updated me on the outcome of the meeting not long after it concluded. The sweep had been swift and surgical. Every traceable faction tied to Corwin had been neutralized—either scattered, silenced, or stripped of power.Still no sign of Corwin himself.Of course not.He was a coward. And cowards always knew how to slip away when the knives came out.“Be patient,” I told myself.Funny. That used to be his line—soft, clipped, infuriatingly calm.Now I said it to myself like a chant. A warning. A shield.But honestly?Even knowing that a hunter needed patience to snare their prey, it was difficult to accept. Every day spent waiting, strategizing, adjusting the board, was another day Corwin and Diantha got to waste the very wealth they’d stolen—resources that should’ve belonged to others. To the families they betrayed. To Moonbane.To me.

Seraphina’s POVHaving a dedicated mentor didn’t mean we were suddenly transformed into reclusive, specialized arcane scholars like the postgraduate students in the east wing. We didn’t spend our days holed up in enchanted laboratories, tuning wands or deciphering historical spell matrices until our hair grayed.We still had to attend foundational classes.Elemental Theory. Magical Ethics. Interdisciplinary Spell Design. Even Chrono-Rune Structure, which I had hoped I’d never see again.It was almost comforting, how unchanging some parts of Loisage remained. Even after everything that had happened, the classrooms still smelled faintly of chalk and phoenix ash. The ink still stained your hands for days, and the enchanted chalkboards still wiped themselves clean mid-argument, as if bored with our slowness.But of course, the theory wasn’t where Professor Dryden’s attention focused.He could recite hex law backward and dissect were-form mutation charts in his sleep. That wasn’t the point