All Chapters of The Forgotten Heiress: Rise of The Lycan Queen: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Elara couldn't sleep. Again.The corridors of Moonstone Keep stretched before her like the veins of some ancient, slumbering beast—dark, pulsing with unseen life. She walked them barefoot, the cold marble nibbling at her skin, grounding her in the only thing that felt real: the silence. Even that wasn’t truly silent. The old walls whispered with every step, groaning softly as if remembering footsteps long since faded to dust. Sage burned somewhere nearby, curling through the air with a ghostly scent that clung to her hair and robes. Beneath it was the sharper, subtler smell of old stone and forgotten magic.Her dreams had been thick with shadows lately, viscous, clinging things that wrapped around her heart and refused to release. They weren’t dreams, not really. Visions, perhaps. Echoes. Ghosts of memories that didn’t belong to her… or perhaps did. It was impossible to know anymore.The figure in the garden had vanished like mist at sunrise, leaving no footprints, no explanation. Onl

Elara sat at the edge of the sacred glade, moonlight spilling across the moss like a river of molten silver. The light clung to her like breath on glass, soft, cool, reverent. Around her, ancient trees stood sentinel, their trunks wrapped in vines older than kingdoms. The glade, a place of ancestral gatherings and whispered prayers, should have brought comfort. But tonight, it only echoed with unease.She didn’t belong here. Not really. Not according to the way the others glanced at her when they thought she wasn’t looking, sideways, cautious, laced with unspoken doubt. Their wariness wrapped around her like smoke, curling beneath her skin. But it wasn’t just her presence that disturbed the stillness of the night.Something else was here.Something older. Watching.Breathing without lungs.Moving without form.She closed her eyes and let the rhythm of her breath slow, tuning her senses outward like threads cast into the cold dark. The air was quiet, too quiet. Even the usual sounds of

The chandeliers bled light like silver veins slit open, their crystal tears cascading onto the marbled floor of the Grand Hall in shimmering, soundless grief. Music whispered through the space, delicate yet macabre, like the echo of a waltz composed in a cursed land long swallowed by dust and prophecy.This was not simply a ball.This was The Ball of Blood and Ash.A masquerade of power. A crucible dressed in velvet and venom. Where each step was a declaration, every gesture a provocation.Here, masks didn’t conceal, they revealed the monsters beneath. And the dancing was never innocent. It was a conquest set to music.In the eye of the storm stood Elara Duskbane.Her gown clung to her like dusk wrapping around bone, a midnight blue stitched with threads that caught firelight like captured constellations. It was elegance with teeth, soft shadows spun into silk. She stood with a quiet tension, a coiled readiness that belied her fragile grace. Every inch of her presence declared one thi

That night, she healed. And when the bruises faded and her breath no longer stung in her chest, she left the safety of her chamber and walked into the dark.The Blood Moon rose slowly, like a wound opening in the sky, round, red, and impossible to ignore. Its light bled across the treetops, bathing the world in a sullen, ghostly hue. Trees became silhouettes of old gods. Leaves shimmered like broken glass. Grass blades caught the light like blades dipped in wine.Elara stood at the edge of the ceremonial glade where, under normal moons, Moonshadow warriors would gather in unity. To speak their oaths. To remember who they were.But tonight was not for remembrance.Tonight was for prophecy.For something old. Something feared.The moment the blood-stained moon crested the canopy, the ancient stones at the heart of the glade began to hum. It wasn’t a gentle resonance. It was a groaning, teeth-rattling vibration that dragged through the bones of every creature present. Wolves all around t

The Forbidden Archive still shimmered faintly with the dregs of the Book of Beasts' ancient magic. Though the silver lanterns lining the chamber’s edges burned low, their flames flickered with a nervous energy, like they too sensed the shift that had taken place. The air was thick with latent power, heavy as breath before a storm.Elara sat with her back pressed to a pillar of worn obsidian, the cold of the stone leeching through her skin, grounding her even as her soul reeled. The name Moonshade beat against her chest like a second heartbeat, reverberating through her bones, etching itself into her identity. The power from the Book had not faded. It lingered, restless.She had come here in search of herself. A name, perhaps. A fragment of family, of meaning.But what she found was far more than origin—it was inheritance.Legacy. Magic. And the bone-deep weight of a buried war that had never truly ended.With trembling hands, she returned the Book of Beasts to its pedestal, feeling it