Semua Bab Echoes of Moonfire: Bab 111 - Bab 120

~Aeron Seventeen years. That’s how long it’s been since the world changed. Obsidian still stood, tall and jagged like the fortress it was meant to be. The walls were still blackened with soot from a war long past, and the towers still whispered the names of those we buried beneath our feet. Time hadn’t healed those wounds—it had simply let them scab over. And I—well, I learned to wear the crown like armor. They called me King, Alpha, Warden of Flame. But titles are just weight, cleverly dressed. What they never tell you is how heavy silence can be when everyone you fought for is either gone or... worse. Eira’s absence was a blade in my side that never dulled. She left in mist, in mystery, in magic. I didn’t chase her because she already found someone that made her feel loved again. Someone that didn't let his father decide the fate of the woman he claimed to love. And Lyric... The council had begged me to kill her after they learnt of what she did or at least, what she was

~Aeron Sleep came and went like smoke on the wind. The moment my eyes opened, I felt it—a tension in the air, heavy and strange, like the sky was holding its breath. The morning sun spilled faint gold across the sheets, casting her in an almost divine glow. Lira lay beside me, soundless, chest rising and falling like waves on a quiet shore. I didn’t move for a moment. Just watched. The silver in her hair shimmered, and her lashes fluttered once as if she sensed me stir. But she didn’t wake. I slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb the silence. The cool floor met my bare feet as I dressed in silence, fastening the clasp of my cloak and adjusting the collar of my tunic. The castle walls creaked faintly in the morning heat. Another day. Breakfast was a simple affair—bread, roasted meat, berries from the northern orchard. I sat alone in the dining hall, a vast chamber of black-stone walls veined with obsidian, tapestries of silver-threaded moons lining the walls. The fire crackled

~Aeron Evening bled like spilled ink through the stained glass, casting warped shadows across the council chamber floor. I sat at the head of the table, hands steepled beneath my chin, and listened in silence as the elders of my council tore at each other’s throats with their voices. “…he could’ve died!” “An arrow, in the middle of the square—” “—an insult to the throne, to the entire pack!” “We must comb every rooftop, every cellar, every—” “This is a declaration of war if we don’t respond!” Their outrage roared around me like storm winds in a hall of stone. But my mind was elsewhere. That arrow hadn’t just been an attempt on my life—it had been a message. Timed too precisely, too cleanly, aimed with an assassin’s certainty. The attack came not at any random hour, but during the ceremony—when I was most exposed, surrounded by potential mates, vulnerable in ritual and spectacle. So who benefits from my death and the collapse of the selection ceremony? My fath

~Kyle The door creaked open as I stepped into the house and shut it quietly behind me, locking out the chaos of the night. The silence inside was almost too still—like the house itself was holding its breath. I tossed my jacket on the back of a dining chair, then pulled off my boots and let them fall with a tired thud near the entrance. My house stood at the edge of the academy grounds, off-campus, cloaked in isolation by design. The building was large—too large for someone like me. Two stories, all dark wood and glass, windows that reached from the floor to the ceiling in the living room, letting in moonlight that painted sharp silver lines across the floor. The fireplace stood cold and empty, its brick mouth yawning at me. Shelves lined the walls, filled with old books, ancient scrolls, and relics from worlds not everyone believed in. A cluttered workbench sat in the far corner of the open-plan living room, covered in vials, old tomes, and blades that hummed when touched. I wa

~Aeron The first thing I noticed when I opened my eyes was the hush. Morning light crept in through the tall arched windows, filtered soft and golden by the sheer curtains. For a moment, I stayed still, letting the silence stretch, clinging to the last remnants of sleep like they were armor. But then reality returned. Ceremony day. The day we planned to use as the day of choosing. The day I’d pick a mate as my father-Alpha Marius commanded. I sat up slowly, bare feet hitting the cold stone floor. The chill bit into my skin, grounding me, steadying me. I rose, walked to the wardrobe, and pulled out my ceremonial robes—dark gray with obsidian embroidery laced into the cuffs and collar. I slid them on over my bare chest, then reached for the silver sash that marked my status. I tied it tight. One glance in the mirror told me I looked exactly how I needed to: calm, controlled, and every inch the Alpha. Breakfast was waiting on the table by the time I stepped out. I barely taste