All Chapters of The White Wolf Luna: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

The veil did not part so much as consume her. One moment Selene stood on jagged stone, cold wind biting her skin, the next, she was inside a vast, soundless chamber without walls or roof or floor. Only space. Only memory.And silence.Not the absence of noise, but a stillness so complete it pressed against her ribs like a second heartbeat. All light came from within the mist that hovered everywhere, glowing faintly silver, casting long shadows with no source.She didn’t speak. She knew better. The Watchers were listening.From the haze emerged seven figures tall, robed in starlight, faces obscured beneath ever-shifting masks. One wore a mirrored surface. Another, a smooth stone etched with runes. One bore no face at all.They didn’t walk. They arrived, suddenly, as though they had always been there, simply waiting for her to notice.The one with the mirror mask stepped forward.“You carry the mark of the unloved moon.”Selene’s breath caught. “I carry many things.”“You seek what lies

They traveled in silence the next day, not because there was nothing to say, but because the weight of what might come made every word feel like it would echo too loudly.The Diremar Range loomed like jagged fangs on the edge of the world, veiled in perpetual stormclouds and laced with old, forgotten magics. No birds sang there. No trees grew. Only stone, wind, and the whispers of things that should have never learned to speak.Selene rode at the front, her cloak soaked from rain, her thoughts louder than the thunder above. Every step closer to the Cradle pulled something inside her tighter. It wasn’t fear. Not exactly. It was something colder. Something deeper.Recognition.She had seen this place before. Not in visions. In dreams. In nightmares.And in one memory she had never told anyone not even Rowan.She remembered standing at the mouth of a cave as a child. She had wandered too far from the pack border. It had been quiet then. Not menacing, not cursed. Just… still. She’d heard

Selene stood before the monolith, her body still, but her soul churning like the sea in a storm. The name Aelira glows faintly on the stone, each letter carved not just in magic, but in grief.“I gave her away,” she said, barely above a whisper.Rowan remained beside her, silent, not from confusion but from reverence. He knew better than to fill this silence with comfort. Some truths demanded to echo.Agnes stepped forward, eyes trained on the glowing inscription. “Selene… are you certain this isn’t some cruel vision? The mind plays tricks when wounded.”“No,” Selene replied. Her voice was steady now, though her fingers trembled. “I remember her. A cradle made of carved pine. She had my eyes. She used to grab my braid when I carried her on my back.”“How could you forget?” Vera asked softly, almost accusingly.“I didn’t forget. I sacrificed the memory,” Selene snapped, then winced at her own bitterness. She turned toward them, shame warring with rage in her expression. “The Watchers a

The air cracked like thin ice underweight. Silver light spilled from Selene’s skin, meeting the violet shimmer that curled around Aelira’s outstretched hands. Their energies collided mid-air, mother and daughter locked not by hatred, but by memory, pain, and something far more dangerous: fear of what they might become.Selene did not strike first. She had not come to destroy. But Aelira did not hesitate, and her magic came not with rage, but with grief so refined it no longer needed to scream. The Hollowborn moved behind her in synchrony, limbs stuttering with that unnerving fluidity of creatures caught between life and undeath.Rowan and Vera were already at Selene’s flanks, forming a triangle of resistance as the Hollowborn surged. Agnes dropped her staff to the ground and began chanting, her voice trembling as she tried to anchor the leyline beneath their feet. But it was Aelira who held Selene’s full attention. The daughter she’d forgotten. The girl who had become something more a

The ground beneath Selene's boots felt too still, as if the world itself were holding its breath. The rift that had once been only light and threat now framed a figure that should never have existed in flesh. The Forgotten Sister had crossed no longer whispering from the Veil, no longer wearing Aelira’s form or speaking through fractured seers. She stood now in full form, draped in robes that shimmered like woven dusk, her skin pale as snowfall, her eyes fathomless, void of pupil or iris only memory.She looked nothing like Selene expected. There was no monstrous crown of power, no crackling storms swirling around her. She was still. Elegant. Calm. And somehow, that made it worse.Selene stepped forward slowly, shielding Aelira’s unconscious body with her own. Rowan moved behind her without question, blade drawn, magic thrumming in his veins, but waiting for her lead. Agnes whispered protections under her breath, but even her ancient knowledge could not mask the fear in her eyes. Vera