Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Alpha’s Moonbreather : Kabanata 181 - Kabanata 190

Becky Everglade signed the decree twice before she realized her hand was shaking.The ink blotted slightly at the corner of the parchment, a small, ugly smear that ruined the clean authority of her signature. She stared at it for a long moment, jaw tight, then shoved the paper away as if it offended her.“Seal it,” she said sharply.The clerk standing at the edge of her desk hesitated. “My lady… this order affects every coastal village north of Archview. Full evacuation within three days. That’s thousands of people.”Becky lifted her head slowly.Her eyes were sharp. Too sharp. “Did I ask for commentary, or did I ask you to seal it?”The clerk swallowed and stepped forward, pressing the wax stamp down with careful precision. The seal of the Luna cooled into place, final and irreversible.“There,” Becky said, leaning back. “For their protection.”No one in the room spoke.Protection had become a word no one trusted anymore.When the clerk left, Becky remained seated, fingers curled aga

The rumors did not arrive all at once.They crept.They slipped through taverns and markets, through half-closed doors and whispered conversations, carried by traders who spoke too softly and travelers who left too quickly. At first, they sounded like nothing more than fear talking to itself—stories shaped by exhaustion, grief, and the slow rot of distrust.But by the time they reached Archview, they were no longer rumors.They were warnings.In the outer settlements, people had begun disappearing from patrol routes. Not dragged away. Not killed. Simply gone. Supply caravans arrived late or not at all. Messengers sent to coastal outposts failed to return, their horses wandering back alone, saddles still warm.And always, the same detail followed.Silver.Silver light in the dark.Silver streaks in a woman’s hair.A presence that made the air feel heavier, sharper, like a storm waiting to break.Kion listened to the report in silence.The council chamber felt smaller than usual, the wa

Dawn broke wrong along the coast.The sun rose, but it did not bring warmth. It brought tension, the kind that settled into the chest and refused to loosen. Fishermen who woke early sensed it before they saw anything—an unease in the air, a pressure rolling in with the tide. The sea was too calm, unnaturally still, as though holding its breath.Then the screaming started.It came from the old detention outpost near the cliffs, a place most people avoided even in daylight. Built decades ago to hold dissenters, smugglers, and “undesirable elements,” it had become something darker in recent years. Anyone accused of moon-touched sympathies, feral contamination, or rebellion disappeared behind its iron gates.At first, the guards thought the noise was another riot inside.They were wrong.The sea rose without warning.Not in a violent crash, not as a storm—but as a deliberate movement, water climbing stone steps that had never once been touched by the tide. Boots splashed. Men shouted orde

The port of Eastridge had always been loud.Even before dawn, it buzzed with activity—ropes creaking, crates dragged across wood, sailors shouting insults and jokes across the docks. It was one of Archview’s most important supply ports, feeding grain, weapons, and salt inland. Guards patrolled it lazily, confident that no rebellion would dare touch something so heavily watched.That confidence lasted until the water changed.It began subtly. The tide didn’t retreat the way it usually did. Instead, it lingered, higher than it should have been, pressing against the pylons as if testing them. A dockworker noticed first.“Is it just me,” he muttered to the man beside him, “or is the sea… closer?”The other man squinted. “Storm residue, maybe.”But there was no wind. No storm clouds. The sky was clear, pale with early morning light.Then the water started moving sideways.Not waves. Not current.Movement.A sailor dropped the crate he was carrying. “What in the hells is that?”The sea pull

Elise woke to quiet.Not the hollow quiet of death or the tense quiet of waiting for something to break, but a living stillness—like the pause between tides. Her eyes opened slowly, adjusting to soft silver light that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.She was no longer on the beach.The ceiling above her arched high, carved from pale stone that shimmered faintly like glass caught beneath moonlight. Veins of crystal ran through it, thin and branching, glowing gently as if light flowed through the rock itself. The air was cool, clean, and smelled faintly of salt and rain.Elise pushed herself upright.She lay on a low stone platform layered with woven fabric the color of pearl. Her body felt… right. Not weak. Not broken. The ache in her chest was gone, her lungs no longer burned, and when she flexed her fingers, there was no tremor.That unsettled her more than pain would have.She swung her legs over the edge and stood.The room opened outward into a vast sanctuary. P