Semua Bab BETRAYED BY THE MOON : Bab 71 - Bab 80

Chapter 72– The Forsaken’s TruthAmara’s POVThe dust of the shattered Forsaken still hung in the clearing, drifting like ash. My body shook, breath ragged, but the mark pulsed steady now, calmer than it had ever been.I turned on the rogue, anger sparking hotter than fear. “You used me as bait.”His scarred mouth curved faintly, though his eyes never wavered. “I gave you a choice. Fight or fall. You chose to fight.”“You called that thing,” I hissed. My nails dug into my palms. “You summoned it. What if I hadn’t controlled it? What if it had broken me?”“Then you would have died,” he said simply. “Better to learn the truth here, under the moon, than when Lilith sends ten thousand against your gates.”His calmness made me want to strike him. “Why?” I demanded, stepping closer. “Why help me at all? You said it yourself,you’re Forsaken. You should be with them, with her.”For the first time, something flickered across his scarred face. Not anger. Not mockery. Pain.“I was with her,” he

Amara’s POVThe murmurs didn’t die when Darius’s voice did.They followed me through the courtyard, a tide of whispers swelling louder until the council bell tolled. The sound rang heavy through stone and air alike, summoning every elder, every commander, every wolf whose doubts had already been sharpened into knives.I hadn’t even washed the dirt of the forest from my skin before they dragged me into the chamber.This time, no incense. No prayers. Just fire burning in the braziers and the smell of smoke clinging to cloaks and fur. The room was full to bursting , not only the council but warriors and servants pressed against the walls, craning for a glimpse.They wanted a spectacle.Elder Hanor leaned forward on his staff, his face gaunt, his voice thin but sharp. “You left the walls again. Alone.”“I was not alone,” I said evenly.The ripple of shock was immediate. They knew who I meant without me speaking his name.A commander slammed his palm against the table. “The Forsaken!” His

Amara’s POVThe courtyard was a sea of faces.Warriors ringed the circle, their armor glinting in the gray light of dawn. Elders lined the raised platform, their expressions carved from stone. And in the center stood me ,bare-armed, unarmored, every whisper pressing against my back.The trial.I could feel their hunger for it, not the hunger for justice but for spectacle. For proof. Some wanted me to fall so their fears would be justified. Others wanted me to stand so they could cling to hope. But all of them stared as if my skin might peel back to reveal Lilith herself.Darius stood to my left, silent, his shoulders squared, his jaw locked. His presence steadied me even when his eyes betrayed the storm he fought to hide.“Begin,” Elder Hanor intoned, his staff striking the stones.A warrior stepped into the circle opposite me. Broad-shouldered, scarred, a man I had trained beside before mistrust poisoned his gaze. His knuckles whitened as he drew his blade, and though his eyes flicke

Amara’s POVBy morning, the courtyard was scrubbed clean of ash.Not the smell, it lingered in the stones, in the wolves’ fur, in the air we breathed. But the bodies were gone, swept into pits outside the walls, burned before the sun rose. The flames had eaten the evidence, yet no fire could devour the memory of what we had seen.Or what they had seen in me.Everywhere I walked, the weight of their stares pressed against my back. Mothers pulled children aside as I passed. Warriors lowered their voices to whispers, their eyes flicking to my wrist. Reverence and suspicion had twined into something more dangerous than either alone.They weren’t asking if I would fight Lilith.They were asking if I already belonged to her.I kept my head high, but inside, my chest ached with every heartbeat. I wanted to scream at them, to demand they see me, not the shadows. But I couldn’t. Not yet.Mira found me near the outer wall, her blade strapped across her back, her hair pulled tight. She didn’t bo

Amara’s POVThe first screams came at dawn.Scouts stumbled through the gates, bloodied, eyes wide with terror. Their voices cracked as they tried to speak, but the stench clinging to them said enough. rot, smoke, the copper of spilled blood.“The Forsaken,” one managed. His knees buckled. “They’re… moving. Villages in the east ,they don’t leave corpses. They take them. Make them rise.”A ripple of horror coursed through the yard. Mothers pulled children inside, warriors gripped blades with white-knuckled fists, and the air itself seemed to freeze.Darius barked orders, his voice firm, dragging the pack into motion. Yet every glance I caught told the same story: fear, and beneath it, blame.Blame that pointed at me.In the war room, maps lay spread across the table, red stones marking villages already lost. Mira stood with her arms folded, jaw tight, while Elder Hanor leaned heavily on his staff, face ashen.“They’re not raiding,” Mira said flatly. “They’re harvesting.”The word twist