Semua Bab Moonlit Secrets: Bab 91 - Bab 100

The main hall of Moonrise had never looked like this before.Sunlight spilled in through windows thrown wide for the first time in seasons. Golden light kissed the faded banners and fresh rushes underfoot. The air was laced with the scent of pine, warm bread, and healing herbs. It didn’t just smell like celebration—it smelled like a beginning.Warriors leaned against pillars, their stances loose for once. No one clutched a blade. No one watched the door. Their arms were crossed not in defense but in quiet ease. Healers, both Moonrise-born and rogue, huddled together in scattered circles. They swapped salves and stories, their laughter breaking open the silence that once filled this place.At the head of the hall, Xander stood on the dais. The grief hadn’t faded from his face, but something else had lifted. His shoulders didn’t carry the weight alone anymore. It had shifted—redistributed, rebalanced.Beside him, Aria stood in a pale gown, her daughter resting in her arms. She wasn’t re

Outside the healer’s chamber, the world bloomed. Wildflowers returned to soil long barren, and the air buzzed with life. Wherever Aria walked, the pack greeted her with reverence. Mothers asked for blessings. Elders spoke of the night the spirits returned.But inside the healer’s chamber, there was only silence and fear.Aria paced the stone floor barefoot, her daughter pressed to her chest. The baby, once radiant with moonlight, now burned with fever. Her cheeks were pale, her breath quick and shallow. Only yesterday, she had been a symbol of hope. Now she whimpered softly, wrapped in damp blankets, too weak to cry.Aria’s heart twisted. She had led warriors into battle, stitched wounds that should have killed, and stood before gods and ghosts. But nothing compared to this helplessness. The world might call her Luna. Healer. Legend. But right now, she was only a mother—scared and holding on.Rowan worked silently by the hearth, grinding herbs. Mira had already come and gone, leaving

The world felt brittle after the storm. Moonrise had returned to routine—repairs, patrols, songs by firelight—but a hush lingered. The peace felt stretched thin. Tomas’s absence remained a wound.Each day, children watched the horizon. Elders listened to the wind. And Aria woke in the night, heart pounding, as if something had whispered her name.On the second evening, as dusk painted the snow lavender, Aria slipped away to the archive temple. The temple was older than Moonrise itself—a round hall carved into the roots of the great tree, its walls lined with memory. Scrolls, stories, and secrets lived there, watched over by the Archive Keeper, an old wolf with smoke-grey eyes and a voice soft as moss.She found him in the candlelit center, sorting parchment with quiet focus. He looked up, offering a knowing smile.“Looking for a legend,” he asked, “or a truth?”“Both,” Aria answered. She sat across from him, the weight of sleepless nights pressing down on her. “I need to know who I am

Morning felt different after the Ceremony of Oaths. Snow still blanketed the land, but life stirred beneath. Children’s pawprints laced the paths between dens, their laughter rising with the steam from bakeries. For once, peace didn’t feel fragile—it felt possible.Aria rose before dawn. Her daughter slept, bundled safely beside Mira and Lysa. She moved quietly, drawn by something older than duty. Her body longed to move again, not as Luna, but as a warrior reclaiming herself.At the edge of the village, the training field stretched wide, bordered by silent birches. Xander was already there, his skin damp from exertion, steam rising from his shoulders. When he saw her, his grin lit up the frost.“Didn’t think you’d spar with me before sunup,” he teased, tossing her a staff.“I’m not here to go easy on you,” she said, catching it with ease.Their movements were light at first—testing, playful—but muscle memory took over. Soon they were locked in rhythm, blades clacking, feet skimming s

The morning after the attack felt strange. The sky was gray, the wind sharp, and everything in Moonrise moved with caution. Children stayed close to home. Guards watched the tree line. Whispers filled the air—fragments of prophecy, warnings, and fear.Aria had not slept. She spent the night beside her daughter, one hand resting on the cradle. Her mind circled the words of the stranger like a storm. First Shadow. The door. The ice. The prophecy. She could feel something stirring far beyond Moonrise, ancient and unfinished.Xander joined her at sunrise, a mug of hot tea in hand. His eyes were tired, but steady.“We need to know the truth,” he said. “We can’t protect her if we’re in the dark.”“Then we go to the source,” Aria replied. “The forbidden cave.”It was a place most only spoke of in hushed tones. A wound in the cliffs to the north, older than the pack itself. Runes guarded its mouth. No one went in without a reason. No one came out unchanged.They left their daughter with Mira