Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Rogue Luna: Kabanata 21 - Kabanata 27

Before Kade was a warrior, before he was a Beta, and long before he ever dreamed of claiming the Darkfang throne, he was a child hiding behind stone pillars, watching wolves tear each other apart.He had not been born into power. His mother was a healer, soft-spoken and too kind for the cold stone halls that ruled the Darkfang Pack. His father had been a warrior, brutal and quick-tempered, killed in a border skirmish when Kade was five years old. After his death, Kade and his mother had been moved to the servants' quarters. Their rooms were narrow, their windows too small, and their words had to be chosen carefully. There were ears everywhere in Darkfang. Even the stone listened.In those early years, Kade learned not to speak unless spoken to. He learned how to walk without making sound, how to count the seconds between patrols, and how to disappear into shadows. He had to. Because the pack he belonged to was not merciful.Darkfang’s glory had always been forged in blood. That was wh

The air inside the Redmaw stronghold felt thick with ash and old secrets. Charollet had lost count of the days. Sunlight never touched the stone floor of the room they kept her in. Instead, a dull crimson glow filtered through the blood-tinted glass above, painting her skin with the color of dried wounds. The silence was deceptive, disturbed only by the occasional howl that drifted through the cracks in the mountain walls.She sat curled on a cot that was too thin to bring rest. Her wrists were bruised, not from chains, but from the cold grip of the warriors who came and went as if she were a relic. They touched her only when necessary, spoke little, and avoided her eyes. The few words they did speak were orders or prayers. They treated her not as a prisoner, but as something far more dangerous.As if she might unmake them with a single breath.The door groaned open again. Volgrin entered, his heavy boots leaving streaks of mud and frost across the stone floor. His presence filled the

The woods had turned strange. Trees whispered in a voice Charollet could not understand. Their trunks twisted toward her as if remembering something ancient. The branches sagged under the weight of snow that did not fall, casting the trail in dull silver. They had walked for days now, deeper into the wilderness that bordered the northeastern edge of the realm. Volgrin walked ahead, surrounded by his guards, his pace unwavering. Behind him, Redmaw warriors flanked Charollet with cruel vigilance. She was not bound, not anymore, but she may as well have been. The threat of their claws kept her silent.Each step felt heavier. The path they followed was barely visible beneath layers of pine needles and frost. It did not resemble a road so much as a memory, resurrected from the earth for their passage. She had begun to notice how the birds no longer sang. Even the wolves, creatures of sound and scent, made no noise here. Whatever place they neared, it had a soul. One that watched.Volgrin’s