Semua Bab The Cursed Luna's Return : Bab 261 - Bab 268

The Name That Shouldn’t Exist The banners stood still. They lingered. That was what made Aria feel the most uneasy. Across the distant ridges of the Ashen Vale, symbols danced in the heavy wind—some displaying the crescent of lunar loyalty, while others bore unfamiliar sigils, sharp and intentionally strange. None crossed the boundary stones. None made a move to attack. They were observing. Evaluating. Deciding when to strike. “They’re testing our resolve,” Selene murmured beside her. “Not our strength.” Rowan’s jaw was tight, his eyes scanning every shadow. “Or they’re just waiting for us to tear ourselves apart.” “True enough,” Selene conceded. Below them, the Vale was alive with tension. Messengers were being sent out. Defensive circles were being reinforced. Arguments flared up only to be quickly hushed. No one wanted to be the first to openly challenge Aria—but no one was ready to follow blindly either. Aria felt the weight of it with every breath.

The Council’s Hand The first indication that the High Council had taken action wasn’t the crackle of fire. It was an eerie silence. No warnings rang out from the borders. No scouts rushed back, breathless with news of encroaching rogues or battling packs. The forests were unnaturally quiet, as if even the wind had been commanded to hold its breath. Aria sensed it before anyone uttered a word. She stood at the edge of Silvercrest’s eastern watchtower, the moonlight draping over her like a second skin. The glow beneath her skin pulsed faintly—uneasy. Alert. “They’ve made their choice,” she whispered. Rowan stepped up beside her, his presence solid and grounding. “You felt it too.” “Yes.” Her fingers curled slowly. “And it wasn't without hesitation.” It was a calculation. Behind them, hurried footsteps echoed against the stone. A warrior skidded to a halt, bowing sharply. “Alpha. Luna—” He quickly corrected himself, unsure, then continued. “A messenger has a

When the Council Cracks Morian’s screams didn’t linger for long. The silver chains constricted, pulsing with a fire that mirrored the moon, forcing him down to his knees in the heart of the shattered oath circle. Smoke spiraled from his skin where the runes seared into his flesh, binding both truth and guilt. But what truly unsettled Aria wasn’t his suffering. It was the silence from the elders. They stood there, frozen—five figures who once wielded absolute power—now laid bare under the Moon’s judgment. Their robes fluttered weakly in the breeze, no longer emblems of authority but remnants of a deception too ancient to withstand the light. Rowan was beside Aria, blood drying on his forearm, his posture protective yet restrained. He felt it too—the moment when the world’s balance shifted. Finally, the iron-eyed elder spoke again, her voice stripped of its usual chill… now strained. “This was never meant to happen.” Aria turned to her slowly. “No,” she replied so

The Ones Who Kneel Dawn didn’t bring the calm everyone hoped for. It crept in slowly, pale and chilly, as if even the sun was hesitant about what it might uncover. Aria stood at the edge of the clearing where the Sentinels had struck, her bare feet sinking into the damp earth, the moonlight still faintly kissing her skin. The forest around her buzzed with low murmurs—wolves shifting, guards changing positions, scouts returning with their updates. The night had changed everything. Again. Rowan approached from behind, surprisingly quiet for someone of his size. He held a folded cloak, draping it over her shoulders with a gentle touch. “You haven’t slept,” he remarked. She didn’t turn to face him. “Neither have you.” “That’s not the point.” Finally, Aria turned to him, her silver-flecked eyes softer than the power that simmered beneath the surface. “I needed to feel the ground. I had to make sure it’s still real.” Rowan let out a slow breath and stood beside her.