All Chapters of Luna’s Rebellion : Chapter 231 - Chapter 240

Elara There is no ground. No sky. No breath. Just weight. It presses from everywhere and nowhere at once, folding into me, through me, until I can’t tell where I end and it begins. I should be dead. I was ready for it—when the hands took me, when the bond tore apart like wet paper, when I saw her face vanish behind the light. But death never came. This did. I try to move. My arms answer. Sort of. They drag through something that feels like air and stone and molten glass all at once, and it cuts without cutting, burns without heat. When I glance down— Gods. No arms. No body. Just pieces. Threads of me strung through a black lattice, stitched into a shape that almost remembers being human. I choke, or I try to. Nothing leaves my throat. Because there is no throat. Just the shape of the scream echoing through the web that holds me. And the voice laughs. “You fight.” It slithers through the gaps in me, curling like smoke around bones I don

Elara There is no ground here. No sky. Just the Throne. It doesn’t sit. It grows. Spines of brass and bone curving into themselves, blooming like a flower that never learned when to stop. Every edge hums with meaning, syllables of a language too sharp for mortal tongues. And I am bound in its roots. Or maybe I am the roots now. Hard to tell. Pain isn’t pain anymore. It’s order. A pattern carved into what’s left of me, over and over, until I fit the design. Until I become the key. The breach whispers in the hollow between thoughts. You were always this. You just didn’t remember. And maybe it’s right. Because when I reach for myself, I find nothing human left. Just the Throne. And hunger. A hunger that stretches wider than my name. Wider than names themselves. Then— A thread snaps through the dark. Hot. Red. It shouldn’t be here. It shouldn’t exist. But it does. And it hurts. Not like pain. Like breaking a law of nature. Like unmaking the s

Elara Silence. Not the silence of peace. The silence after screaming—raw, jagged, echoing through my bones. I open my eyes. I expect white. Or black. Or nothing. Instead— Sky. Blue, but cracked. Like porcelain after a fall, spiderwebbed with fissures that glow faintly gold. Through those cracks, I see darkness—not night, not void, but something deeper, coiling like smoke behind glass. The breach didn’t close. It broke the world instead. I try to move. Everything hurts in ways that shouldn’t exist. My veins burn, my skin hums with something that isn’t power but memory of power. Like I was dipped in lightning and left to dry. Kael. The name is the only thing holding me together. I turn my head. He’s there. Alive. But changed. He’s lying on his side, half-buried in gray ash. His hair—black once, then streaked with silver—is now pure white, like frost. His skin is pale but marked with fine golden cracks that pulse faintly with each breath. And his e

The horizon bleeds gold. Not bright, not warm—this gold is hungry. It pulses in the cracks like veins in a corpse, and every time it throbs, the sky whispers. You can’t hear it at first. You think it’s the wind, or maybe your own breath. But if you listen too long, if you let it creep into the hollow spaces behind your eyes, you realize it’s not sound at all. It’s thought. And it doesn’t belong to you. Elara The ash hasn’t stopped falling. It coats the tips of my hair, turns black strands pale, clings to the cuts across my arms like frost. Kael walks beside me, too quiet. That should be a relief. Silence used to mean safety. Silence used to mean control. Now it just feels like something waiting to break. I glance at him from the corner of my eye. The cracks in his skin glow faintly, even though he’s trying to hide it under his sleeve. Threads of molten gold crawling under flesh like lightning that forgot how to sleep. “Kael.” He doesn’t look at me. “What?” “Stop pulling

Elara Kael doesn’t wake up at first. Not when I shake him. Not when I call his name. Not even when the world groans beneath us like it’s trying to peel itself apart. I press my hand against his chest. He’s warm—too warm, heat bleeding through his torn shirt like he swallowed a star. His heartbeat is there, but it’s wrong. Off-rhythm. Like it can’t decide which world it belongs to. “Kael.” My voice is a whisper against the sound of cracking stone. “Come back.” The bond hums, low and fractured, like a harp with half its strings snapped. When he finally stirs, it’s not gentle. His back arches. His breath tears out in a ragged sound that scrapes my spine raw. Gold light spills from the cracks in his skin, searing bright before dimming to a low ember. And then—his eyes snap open. I wish they hadn’t. They were always sharp. Silver that could cut, shadowed with something he never said out loud. Now? Now they are molten. Not just glowing—moving. Like there’s something alive behi