Lahat ng Kabanata ng QUEEN OF THE BROKEN MOON: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

Elira stood in the corner of the packhouse kitchen, her hands trembling from the cold water she had used to scrub the last pot. Her fingers were red, cracked, and raw, but no one noticed. No one ever noticed the omega girl who worked herself bloody in the shadows. She was the extra body, the ghost in the halls—used, discarded, and forgotten.The snowstorm howled outside, its icy breath seeping through the cracks in the walls, but no one offered her a blanket. Her thin tunic was still damp from earlier when she'd slipped on the stone steps carrying Kael’s breakfast tray and spilled the entire meal. She hadn’t even cried when they beat her for it.Elira had learned not to cry.She dried her hands on her skirt and tried to stand up straighter. The bruises on her back protested, but she swallowed the pain. Tonight was the Full Moon Gathering. She had to serve at the celebration—and be perfect. The Alpha didn't tolerate clumsy omegas ruining the rituals.From the main hall, she could alrea

Elira woke to the sound of crackling fire and the faint hush of snowfall beyond the window. The scent of woodsmoke clung to the thick furs wrapped around her, and though her body still ached, it no longer screamed in pain. Warmth—real, solid warmth—enveloped her for the first time in what felt like years.She had slept. Deeply. Safely. In someone’s home. A stranger’s home. A king’s.Her mind snapped back to the previous night—the eyes like silver moons, the voice deep and steady, the way he’d carried her as if she weighed nothing at all. As if she were something worth saving.Lucien. The Lycan King.She shifted, cautiously pulling herself upright in the grand bed. Her body responded sluggishly, sore but no longer paralyzed by cold or fear. A pitcher of water and a bowl of something thick and fragrant rested on a small table nearby. Her stomach twisted in longing.Just as she reached for it, the door creaked open.A young woman entered, no older than twenty, with rich auburn curls tied

The storm broke just after midnight.Winds howled across the craggy peaks of the northern mountains, battering the windows of the fortress like a beast begging to be let in. Snow whipped through the air like knives, and guards shifted uneasily in their heavy coats, huddling near torches that flickered against the cold.But inside the great hall, fire blazed high in the hearths, and tension burned even hotter.Elira stood beside Lucien on the raised dais, her posture straight, expression carefully calm. Her newly healed body was still sore from yesterday’s training, and the smooth metal of the signet ring on her finger felt impossibly heavy. But she refused to show weakness.Not tonight.Tonight, ambassadors from the Stormfang Pack—the very pack that once claimed her and cast her aside—had come to speak with the Lycan King.They did not know she would be here.They did not yet know she wore the queen’s signet.They were about to find out.The great doors boomed open. Two men entered—Al

The next few days passed in a blur of diplomacy and discipline.Elira attended council sessions beside Lucien, joined training drills in the courtyard, and studied late into the night. Her mind sharpened, her posture straightened, and her voice no longer trembled when speaking to high-ranking Lycans who once wouldn’t have met her gaze.But something was shifting in the air—an unease she couldn’t name.It began with a servant disappearing. A young girl who had often smiled at Elira in the halls, always quick with a quiet word or a stolen sweet from the kitchens. Gone without a trace. The head steward explained it away as “runaway behavior,” but Elira had known the girl. She wouldn’t have left like that.Then came the scroll.Slipped under her door one evening, sealed with no insignia.> Beware the ones in silk. Not all wolves bare their teeth. Some use poison instead.Elira stared at it long after the words blurred. It wasn’t signed. But the warning rang clear.She went straight to Luc

The summit was supposed to end in unity.After Elira’s speech and the symbolic vote of confidence, many believed the storm had passed. For the first time in decades, the Alphas of the north, east, and coastal realms stood beneath the same banner—the Lycan King’s. And beside him stood the omega no one could silence, whose name now stirred pride in some and dread in others.But storms never leave quietly.And the ones born of desperation strike the hardest.It began just before dawn.Elira stood at the riverbank, watching the water ripple under the rising sun. The valley was quiet, wrapped in an uneasy stillness. The summit was set to conclude later that day, with a final address by Lucien. After that, they would return home.Home.The word still tasted strange on her tongue, even after everything. The fortress, the halls she’d once feared walking, the guards who bowed to her with respect instead of disgust—it was still new. Still fragile. Still earned.Footsteps approached behind her,