Semua Bab The Exiled Luna : Bab 111 - Bab 120

Thorold’s POV The next morning, the Circle summoned everyone to the Basin. Not just Guardians or Seers, but every wolf, every spellweaver, every outlier who had made their home beneath Black Hollow’s ancient roots. Elyra stood tall at the heart of the circle of stone, her gold eyes sharp but unreadable. I stood beside her, the orb in my pocket pulsing like it was alive. Lira was near the edge, hidden behind two other students. I’d asked her not to stand beside me. Not yet, Not until this ended. Not until I knew who would survive it. Maelen was already there when I arrived — arms crossed, expression carved from stone, a picture of control. He offered me no greeting, no accusation. But his eyes? They knew I knew. Elyra raised her voice, letting it ring across the Basin like a bell. “There has been a fracture in the Hollow,” she said. “A seed of corruption planted where we should have only had sanctuary. This gathering is not a trial of law…” She turned toward me.

Thorold’s POV I’d been told once that war didn’t begin with a blade. It began with whispers. Black Hollow was quiet now, but not calm. Since Maelen’s exile, the atmosphere had shifted. Wolves no longer trained with focus. Conversations felt heavier, looks lasted longer. It wasn’t fear anymore—it was expectation. Everyone waiting to see what I would do next. I wasn’t sure what they saw when they looked at me. A leader? A threat? A weapon they hoped would turn toward their enemies and not their homes? I stood at the center of the Basin, alone. The runes in the stone pulsed beneath my feet, sensing the change. The Veil, too, knew something was coming. And it was coming fast. Behind me, Lira approached in silence. “They’re gathering near the southern ridge,” she said. “Elyra says the Hollow has never seen so many wolves ready for battle.” “They’re not ready for what’s coming,” I murmured. She stepped beside me, her voice low. “Neither are we.” We both looked out toward the wood

Thorold’s POV The gates of Stormfang came into view just after sunrise. They rose tall and proud against the backdrop of pine-covered hills and silver skies, exactly as they had in my earliest memories—the ones that never quite felt real. I’d dreamed of this moment more times than I could count. But now that it was here, my legs didn’t want to move. The Hollow’s warriors flanked me in silence, carrying no banners, only purpose. Kael walked at my right, Lira at my left. As we crested the final hill, the watchtower horn sounded.The pack was waiting. They lined the walls and walkways, some in armor, some in robes, many in quiet disbelief. I saw every expression—curiosity, awe, fear. But none of it mattered. Because at the heart of them stood her Luna Zara my mother. She didn’t wear a crown or a ceremonial robe. Just dark leathers, dust on her hands, her braid loose in the wind. Her eyes—so much like mine—were locked on me and nothing else. And beside her, a presence

Thorold’s POV The quiet didn’t last, I woke before dawn the next day, not from a nightmare, but from something worse—emptiness. The kind that stretched too wide inside the chest, like a forgotten room filled with cold air. My wolf stirred uneasily beneath my skin, but not in warning. This was different. This was… listening. I dressed and stepped into the hallway, letting the silence of the early hour guide me through the corridors. The Academy was always strange at this time, hushed but alert, like it breathed slowly while the world slept. I ended up at the archives, not intending to. My feet carried me there like they remembered something I didn’t. The doors creaked open under my touch. Inside, the air was thick with magic and dust. Scrolls lined every wall, shelves full of whispered histories, most written by hands long since gone. I traced my fingers along the spines of old books without reading, trying to shake the feeling crawling under my skin. That’s when I saw it.

Thorold’s POV I felt it first in my dreams. A pulling—tight, low, like the weight of a tether I didn’t know I carried. The night was still, but my sleep was broken. No visions. No flames. Just a strange pressure in my chest and a whisper threading through my mind like smoke: **“He’s mine, too.”** I woke before dawn, sweat cold on my back. The window beside my bed was open, though I hadn’t touched it. The wind didn’t move the curtains. It just sat there—heavy, unmoving, watching. My wolf stirred beneath my skin. Not afraid. Alert. We weren’t alone. I stepped into the corridor, pulling a cloak around my shoulders. The Academy was quiet again. Too quiet. It wasn’t the absence of footsteps or voices. It was the way the stones seemed to hum. The wards lining the walls had shifted in color—just slightly. Gold to dull bronze. Warm to something colder. I made my way to the sanctuary near the eastern wing—the place where the Veil seemed to hang thinnest, where the runes whispered old