บททั้งหมดของ The White Wolf Luna: บทที่ 31 - บทที่ 40

The sky cracked open at dusk.Not metaphorically—literally.A jagged tear split across the horizon over the northern cliffs, a line of pulsing violet light like lightning frozen in place. Below it, the trees trembled. Birds fled. The world exhaled something ancient and bitter.Selene stood at the edge of the Spirit Vale, her cloak plastered to her back from the rain, her skin still shimmering faintly with the energy she’d carried out of the pool. Her hands curled at her sides.“She did it,” she said flatly. “She opened her gate.”Rowan looked skyward. “We saw the signs two hours ago, and it’s still growing.”Vera dropped from a scouting post nearby, eyes wide. “There’s something worse,” she said. “She’s not just drawing from one rift. She’s stitching through multiple ley lines. Across the kingdom. Like she’s building a new spine for the whole damn world.”Agnes’s voice was grim. “A false bridge... using dead spirits as mortar.”Selene didn’t flinch. “Then we destroy it.”“No,” Agnes s

They traveled for three days beneath silver skies and the shadow of war.The land grew quieter with every mile westward. Not peaceful—hushed. Like everything was waiting for something terrible to arrive. The birds stopped singing. The wind no longer played through the trees. Even the moonlight dimmed.Selene walked ahead of the others, silent and watchful. The grove’s pull had grown stronger the closer they came. At first, it had just been whispers.Now?Now it sang in her blood.By the time they reached the border of the Grove of Ancients, the earth was cracked and glowing faintly from beneath—lines of old magic tracing trees that pulsed with unnatural light. Everything smelled of frost and ash.Vera muttered behind her, “Looks like something’s already been through here.”“It has,” Agnes replied grimly. “But not fully.”Rowan stepped up beside Selene, his hand brushing hers. “You don’t have to carry this alone.”“I’m not alone,” she said softly. “But I am the one it’s calling.”“You

The Grove was quiet. Not dead, not broken—just still. As if it were breathing in the aftermath of what had come and gone. The once-twisted trees were slowly realigning themselves, their roots glowing faintly as the corrupted ley lines rerouted and began healing. Selene stood at the edge of the altar’s remains, her boots crunching over charred earth and fallen bark. The stone where Caden’s body had rested was empty now. They’d buried him beneath the oldest tree—quietly, without ceremony, because that’s what felt right. She hadn’t spoken since. 

Selene didn’t move for a long time. The words hung in the air, thick and pulsing with consequence. The last of the old blood. She stared at the young man who had brought the warning. He lay curled in on himself now, exhausted, half-conscious. Rowan crouched beside him, inspecting the blood on his tunic. “Not his,” Rowan confirmed. “But someone fought hard to make sure he reached us.” Agnes stepped forward, voice sharp. “We need to

The journey back from the binding chamber was wordless. Not out of avoidance—but out of reverence. The kind of quiet that follows revelation. Selene walked ahead, her shoulders tense, her heartbeat slow but heavy, as if her body understood something her mind hadn't fully caught up with yet. Rowan followed behind her, not close enough to pressure her, but not far enough to let her fall alone. When they reached the ridge overlooking the edge of camp, Selene stopped. She didn't speak. She didn’t even breathe deeply. She simply stared at the forest—