Semua Bab Moonlit Secrets: Bab 101 - Bab 110

A week had passed since the terrace—since the hush, the warning, and the weight of something ancient pressing on the wind. Moonrise moved with careful quiet now. The children played closer to home. Warriors trained harder. And Aria... Aria felt pulled toward the mountain’s root, to the sacred spring caves that had once given her peace.She carried her daughter close, wrapped in a deep-blue shawl, the fabric lined with soft fur and spells whispered into each stitch. Her feet knew the path. Worn stone steps led through the trees to the hidden mouth of the cave. Spirit stones flickered on the walls as she entered, lighting the way with a soft, pulsing glow.Inside, silence met her like an old friend. No prophecy whispered here. Just water, moss, and stone that had watched countless generations kneel with questions in their hearts.Aria knelt now.She rested by the largest pool, its surface still under a shaft of moonlight that poured through a natural crack in the cave ceiling. Her daugh

Neutral territory was a strange place for wolves. It belonged to no pack, held no loyalties—just an uneasy hope that maybe, for once, peace could be more than a truce.The ancient amphitheater sat at the valley's center, ringed by stone and old oaks. Wolves from across the land gathered beneath its shadows. The Ironvale pack gleamed gold in the light. The Ash Pack arrived silent, their new Alpha, Danica, sharp-eyed and unreadable. Stonewater’s warriors flanked the edges like statues. And Moonrise entered last—Aria and Xander bearing the weight of runes that still glowed beneath daylight.Aria walked with steady grace, her daughter left behind under the spirit wolf protection. The trial had changed her. The other alphas saw it—power tempered by pain, magic balanced by love.The summit opened at dawn. Elders recited the law. Scouts shared maps. Xander handled early talks, calm but firm, shaped by war and loss. Aria sat quietly, eyes sharp, noting the flickers of doubt, envy, and distrus

Night wrapped the valley in frost and silence. Aria lay awake beside Xander, her daughter sleeping peacefully nearby. But her mind wouldn’t rest. The summit’s fragile unity, the whisper of prophecy—it all pressed on her chest like a weight.She rose quietly, kissed Xander’s brow, and slipped into the cold. The wind whispered through the trees, the moon sharp above her. Her feet carried her to a place she hadn’t visited in years—a hill beyond the woods where the earth split open like a scar.The entrance to the old crypt was nearly hidden by frost and vines. She remembered running from it as a child, chased by shadows she didn’t understand. Now she stepped inside willingly, drawn by something deeper than fear.The air within was cold and still. Dust clung to the carved walls, bones slept in their niches, and faded symbols watched from stone. At the end of the corridor, moonlight spilled across a slab marked by the double crescent and a river of night.Aria knelt. Her fingers traced the

The moon was a thin silver scar in the pale morning sky when Aria stepped out of the council chamber. The weight of the night still clung to her like smoke—betrayal, exile, the fragile repairs of trust—but her steps were lighter now. She had faced the cracks in their unity and held the line. The future was still uncertain, but it no longer felt hopeless.As she neared the hilltop path that led to their home, the sound of her daughter’s laughter broke across the cold like sunlight—a small, bright melody of life. Aria paused, heart clenching, letting the sound wash over her. For that single moment, the whole world narrowed to one heartbeat—the sound of joy untouched by politics, by prophecy, by fear.At their door, Mira stood waiting, bundled in a thick shawl, her arms crossed and eyes soft with mischief. “She’s been asking for you in baby babble,” she said. “Figured a little air might do her good. Let her feel something other than stone floors and tension.”Aria nodded, brushing a loos

The morning after Xander’s confession dawned not in light, but in weight.Clouds rolled over the peaks like mourning veils, thick with the promise of snow. A hush had settled across Moonrise—unnatural, expectant. The kind of silence that comes before storms, before decisions that cannot be undone.Within their home, Aria stirred early. Sleep had eluded her, fractured by dreams too tangled to hold. Images of their daughter—laughing, burning, fading—looped through her mind like a melody missing its final note.She rose quietly, moving to the hearth where Xander sat hunched beside the cradle, shoulders tense, hand drifting over their daughter’s brow. His fingers traced the faint, glowing crescents—the marks that had tethered prophecy to flesh. There was tenderness in his touch, but also something more: a grief that didn’t know where to go, and a love too vast to name.Aria placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked up, and in his eyes she saw it again—what she had always seen. Not a broken