All Chapters of The Luna who rose from the flames : Chapter 21 - Chapter 25

Thalia’s POV The river waited for me like a beast holding its breath. It was stretched wide and endless, cloaked in silver mist and shadows that moved too slowly with the wind. Rocks jutted from the banks like broken teeth, and the water beneath was dark. Not clear. Not blue, Just…dark. The kind of dark that felt sentient. The Devil’s Cleft. That’s what Rorik called it. He mentioned that the river was cursed. It held strange creatures and danger seemed to make it his abode. No one crosses and lives to speak of it. Witches ruled the lands beyond it, and the river itself obeyed no kingdom. But I had no choice. I stepped closer, until the icy spray kissed my face. I could still feel the echo of that presence, the silent watcher who had followed me before the Direlands… and now again. It wasn’t hostile. But it wasn’t gone. By now I was beginning to grow wary of this persistent presence. I didn't know if it was for my good or if it was evil. I decided to ignore it. I took a

Thalia’s POV The first thing I felt was the throbbing in my head. It pulsed behind my eyes, sharp and unrelenting, like a drum being beaten too close to my skull. My body felt heavy, as though it had been drained of everything, every drop of strength sucked out until only the shell remained. My eyelids fluttered open, and I was greeted by the faint flicker of firelight casting shadows on rough wooden walls. The air smelled faintly of herbs—sharp, bitter, and earthy—mixed with the faint scent of smoke. I was lying on a low bed, covered with a thick fur blanket that felt scratchy against my skin. The ceiling was low, slanted, and the place was small enough that I could take in almost everything from where I lay. Shelves lined the walls, stuffed with jars of dried leaves, roots, and glass vials filled with liquids of different colors. In the far corner was a little cauldron hanging over a fire pit, the steam curling into the air. “You’re awake.” The voice was soft but carried an

Thalia’s POV The morning came heavy with silence. Not the gentle hush of dawn, but the kind that pressed down on your chest and refused to lift. I woke to find Enid already moving about, his motions precise as always, but his jaw tight, the lines of his face sharper than usual. The remnants of last night’s battle still lingered in the air—the broken wood, the faint scorch marks, the scent of smoke that clung stubbornly to the walls. He had repaired what he could, swept away the worst of it, but the memory burned into me deeper than any scar. I touched my ribs, almost in disbelief at how whole they felt now. His power had knit bone and flesh back together, but it could not erase the echo of the pain. Nor the deeper wound: the knowledge that I had been so close to death, and that someone had dared to come for me in his absence. The same people who were scheming against me. “Eat something,” Enid said quietly. He placed a bowl of steaming broth on the table. His voice was steady, but