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Todos los capítulos de CHASING HIS LUNA BACK: Capítulo 191 - Capítulo 200

210 Capítulos

FALL OF THE LAST ANCHOR

Aurelia's point of viewI couldn’t hear the dungeon anymore. The sight was hurting me deeply. too much to see and consume while my heart remain on fire. Everything seemed distracting yet I coudn't take my mind off of it.Not the dripping water, not the grinding torches, not even Lara’s uneven breathing. Only the sound of my heartbeat, pounding like a war drum against my ribs.Everyone stared at me. Damien stood stiff and unreadable, arms crossed. Silas waited, jaw clenched so hard I thought his teeth might break. Dalton hovered near the door, eyes cast down, afraid that if he looked at me, he would see the decision forming in my blood.I stepped closer to the bars. Lara lay there, like a broken doll made of bone and bruises. Her hair tangled. Her eyes hollow. Blood dried at her nose and ears in thin, ugly streaks. She was exhausted from the internal battles with Draco. Poor thing never wnated to be a part of his scheming reality.Lara was not only my healer or friend. Not the girl who

DESTROYING THE EVIL JOURNAL

Aurelia's point of viewLara’s body was still warm when the final breath slipped out of her.It did not come with a scream or even a tremor. One moment she was choking, spitting the last of Draco’s poison from her lungs, and the next she simply… stopped. Her eyes, which moments ago held the frantic panic of someone trapped between loyalty and fear, emptied into a dull glassiness. The last flicker of light in her died like an ember in snow.I did not look away. The least I could do was witness the end of someone who had once braided my hair and stole bread from the kitchens with me when we were young. She had betrayed me, yes, but she had also saved me countless times before the darkness claimed her. I hated the monster Draco made of her. I could not hate the girl she once had been.I sheathed the dagger in silence. My hands were shaking, but it was not regret. It was grief in its most stubborn form. A grief I had no time to feel.When I turned to leave, something twitched near the cor

THE BEGINNING OF THE WAR

Silas's point of viewA burning silence settled over the chamber after Aurelia collapsed into my arms. I held her the way a man holds his entire world, terrified to let even a whisper of her slip through his fingers. The journal still smoldered on the table, the blackened leather curling inward like it was trying to eat itself. Damien paced the room like a caged predator, but his eyes never left Aurelia.She breathed heavily. Her lashes trembled. Every instinct in me screamed to demand what she saw, who touched her mind, who dared to move through her past and future. But I swallowed it. She was shaking. That was enough.I moved her gently to the bed and tucked the blanket around her stomach.“You rest,” I murmured. My voice came out raw. “You are not lifting a single finger until you stop shaking.”Aurelia stared at me like I was saying something funny. “Draco will not wait because I am tired,” she whispered.I forced myself not to snap at her. Fear makes impatience look like authorit

THE FINAL ADVISING

Aurelia's point of viewThe room felt too small to hold what was coming. The walls knew it. They creaked softly, like old bones bracing for impact. The curtains barely moved, yet my heart beat as if a storm were already tearing through the pack house.Silas had left a few minutes ago with Damien and Dalton to set things in motion. The moment the door clicked shut behind him, the silence pressed in around me. It was a strange silence. Not empty. Waiting.I sat at the edge of the bed and stared at my hands. They were stained with faint traces of soot from the journal, with the memory of Lara’s blood, with magic that had cost me parts of my sanity. My fingers trembled just enough to annoy me.“Get yourself together,” I muttered.Lilith stirred inside me like a great wolf waking from a nap. “You are allowed to tremble,” she said, her voice echoing in my mind. “You are not allowed to break.”I huffed a humorless laugh. “Comforting as always.”“Someone has to be,” she replied. “Your mate is

SILENCE BEFORE THE STORM

Silas's point of viewThe strategy room smelled like iron and burnt parchment. Not the scent of battle yet, but the scent of inevitability. Dalton was spreading maps across the long oak table, his fingers trembling despite trying to hide it. Damien stood on the other side with his generals, every inch of him radiating the cold authority of a king who knew war far too well. To my left sat the witches who had sworn loyalty to Aurelia and to our fight: Elen and the survivors of Mara’s coven, stripped of their darkness, branded with silver sigils to mark their new allegiance.The war council was not loud. The loud rooms are the ones where people pretend. The dangerous rooms are the quiet ones.Dalton pushed three black markers onto the map. “Draco will not hit us in a single wave. He will hit us in three. Northern cliffs, west forest, and the main gate.”One of Damien’s generals scoffed under his breath. “You speak as if you know his mind.”Dalton stared at him with eyes that belonged to

THE ALPHA KING'S CONFRONTATION

Damien's point of viewThey all left the strategy room in waves, like breath exhaled reluctantly. Wolves moved with their usual predatory purpose, witches with their eerie silence. Elen was escorted by Silas and Dalton, surrounded by warriors as if she were a fragile artifact of fate. I remained where I stood, my hands flat on the table, fingertips pressed into the grooves worn by generations of Alpha rulers.It should have felt familiar. It should have felt like power.Instead… it felt like I was standing on the bones of my own failures.I did not follow them immediately. I stared at the pendant she had placed on the table. The sigil carved into its surface was unmistakable: Bianca Weller’s crest. The Weller line. My line. The line I had been told was extinct, except for me.The palace archivist had said it with certainty. “The bloodline ended after the third generation.”He lied. Or Draco made him lie.I almost crushed the pendant in my fist. My hand trembled, an unfamiliar and unwe

THE WAR HAS COME

Aurelia's point of viewThe night had fallen into an unnatural quiet, the kind that pressed on your ribs and made your lungs hesitate. I stood at the ridge overlooking Blackfang’s borders, the cracked land beneath my boots suddenly unfamiliar. Everything looked different after blood spilled on it. The bodies had been removed, the ground washed, and the air purified, yet I could still smell fear. Not mine, never mine but the pack’s. Fear lingered like a stain. A reminder that Draco was moving toward us, and that there would be no forgiveness for anyone caught in the crossfire.Silas and Damien were still inside the tent, finishing the last arrangements with Dalton and the witches. They thought I was resting. They were wrong. Rest was a luxury meant for the peaceful. I lost peace long before I learned how to shift. Long before I learned how to kill. I leaned on the stone barricade, letting the cold seep into my palms until my pulse calmed. Lilith stirred in the recess of my mind, her vo

THE DEVIL SHOW

Markus Draco's point of viewThey think this war is about wolves and witches.They think this war is about lands and crowns.They have not understood that this war is about me.I walk through the forest with no army at my back, no shield, no wolves to howl my title. A king does not announce his arrival. The world feels him coming. Trees bend under their own leaves, roots shiver beneath my feet, the wind turns slow as if learning reverence. The silence is heavy, respectful, the same silence that fell before Bianca slit the throat of her first lover to protect me.They called it cruelty.She called it “correction.”A soldier of Damien’s border patrol steps out from behind a pine tree. His armor glitters cheap, mass-forged steel polished to look noble. Nothing like the blades of the old houses. Nothing like the silver Bianca tempered in moonlight so it would never rust.He raises his sword, but his fear raises faster.“State your name...” he begins.My mind brushes his, not violently, ju

RISING TOWARD THE WAR

Aurelia's point of viewThe world did not end with fire. It ended with the sound of footsteps.Boots, paws, talons, hooves... I could not tell anymore. The battlefield was not a field but an open scar in the land, a valley carved by centuries of war. I watched the army gather at the ridge as dawn crawled across the mountains. The first light hit the armor of the wolves, glinting off metal breastplates and silver blades. Witches gathered beside them, their cloaks stirring in cold wind, faces marked in ash sigils and moonlight ink. No one spoke. Even the earth seemed to hold its breath.Silas stood beside me, tall as a pillar carved from stone, his jaw set in the frightening stillness that I had only seen once before, the night he lost his eye. He glanced down at my belly for the briefest moment. The gesture was not tender; it was primal, a silent oath carved in blood: Our children will live.At the front of the formation stood Damien, his golden hair braided back, his eyes sharp and br

THE FIRST CLASH

Aurelia's point of viewI did not wait for him to breathe. I did not wait for him to move or taunt or stretch his fingers in that arrogant way he used to command witches like playthings. I closed the distance in a heartbeat, hands glowing, nails lengthening, bone cracking as Lilith surged through my veins. My body was no longer skin and flesh, but something older, something ancestral, something born in the flames that killed my mother and the curses that shaped me. I struck Draco square in the chest. The explosion was quiet, like thunder muffled in a grave. The shock wave rippled through the courtyard and split the tiles beneath us into a jagged spiderweb. Witches flew backward. Warriors stumbled. The force threw Draco two meters back but he did not fall. He slid, his boots carving black scars into the earth, then came to a stop with a grin slowly sliding across his face, as if tasting a flavor he had long forgotten.“You struck like Bianca,” he said softly, tapping the cracked ground

ANTERIOR

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