All Chapters of ASHES OF THE LUNA QUEEN: Chapter 261 - Chapter 270

Wind whispered through the forest. For the first time in what felt like centuries, Adrien heard real wind, soft, cool, threaded with the scent of pine and wet soil.He inhaled sharply, the air grounding him, reminding him he was alive. But the comfort lasted only a heartbeat. Because standing at the edge of the clearing was Liora.Barefoot. Silent. Watching him. “Liora…” His voice cracked. “You’re alive.”She tilted her head, eyes glimmering, one silver, one red. “Am I?”He stood slowly, every muscle trembling. “What do you remember?”Her lips curved into something halfway between a smile and a wound. “I remember falling. I remember Mother screaming my name. And I remember her hand pushing me back into the light.”Adrien’s pulse thundered. “She saved you.”“She thought she did,” Liora murmured. She stepped closer, each movement deliberate, almost graceful. The shadows bent around her feet, while moonlight clung to her skin like devotion. “But when she gave you her Dream… she left me h

The night was too still. Adrien woke to the sound of nothing, a silence so deep it pressed against his ribs. The fire had burned down to ash, the forest around them wrapped in heavy mist. Lyra was gone.He shot to his feet, every nerve on edge. “Lyra?”No answer. Just the whisper of wind through leaves that didn’t move. The moon hung low and swollen above the treetops, brighter than it should’ve been, watching him like an open eye.He turned in a slow circle, scanning the shadows. “Lyra, where are you?”Something moved at the edge of the lake. A ripple. Then a reflection that didn’t belong to him.Adrien approached, his boots sinking into the damp soil. The water’s surface was mirror-smooth. And there she was, Lyra, standing in the shallows, her bare feet stirring faint light beneath the surface.But she wasn’t alone. Her reflection didn’t match her. In the glassy water, another figure stood beside her, taller, cloaked in silver. A woman. Sera’s face. Adrien’s heart stopped. “Sera…”L

The forest wasn’t silent anymore. Every step Adrien took sent a shiver through the ground, a hum beneath the soil that almost felt like breathing.The silver trees swayed without wind, their leaves whispering words he couldn’t quite make out. The moonlight followed him through the canopy, too precise, too watchful.He pressed forward anyway. “You wanted me to see, Lyra,” he murmured. “Then show me.”The path ahead pulsed faintly, threads of light weaving through roots and stones, forming patterns, runic spirals that matched the scars on his hands.The deeper he went, the more the air thickened with power. It wasn’t hostile. It was expectant. He emerged into a clearing unlike any place he’d ever seen.The trees ended abruptly, replaced by a circle of polished obsidian. In the center stood a single archway, carved from moonstone and humming with soft light. The “door” Lyra had spoken of.But it wasn’t a doorway, it was a reflection, a vertical pool of silver liquid framed in stone. When

The world inhaled.It was not air that filled its lungs but light. Every tree, stone, and drop of water glowed from within as if remembering what it meant to exist.The moon above flared wide-eyed and alive, no longer a watcher but a second sun. The silence that followed was the hush before a heartbeat.Lyra stood at the lake’s edge, her fingers trembling around the pulse that now connected her to everything. This is what waking feels like, she thought. Beautiful. Terrifying.Behind her, the boy, Adrien’s echo, watched quietly. “You’ve done it,” he said. “You’ve given it breath.”Lyra turned to him. “And what have I unleashed?”He tilted his head toward the horizon. “Look.”The line where sky met earth split like silk. Through it came figures, shapes first, then faces, walking out of memory. Wolves made of starlight.Queens wrapped in flame. The lost gods of every age she thought buried. Their voices overlapped in whispers that rolled like thunder. “We remember.”“We return.”“We drea

The moon bled again that night. A thin crimson vein traced across its pale surface, pulsing faintly, slow, deliberate, alive.From the balcony of the citadel, Lyra could feel it throb in the back of her mind, a heartbeat that wasn’t hers but wanted to be.The boy, Adrien’s echo, stood beside her, his arms folded. “It’s spreading,” he said quietly.Lyra nodded. “The Dream’s balance is fracturing.”“Because one of them is remembering wrong.”She turned to him sharply. “Wrong?”He looked out at the horizon, where faint lights glimmered in the divine cities that had sprung up overnight.“The Dream holds memories like seeds. Some grow into creation, others into hunger. Someone’s feeding the wrong one.”By dawn, the first signs appeared. Miren’s garden, once filled with silver flowers, was blackened, the petals hardened into glass. The rivers near Eros’s mountain steamed red. The air tasted of iron and grief.Lyra moved quickly, summoning the gods to the citadel. They came in ripples of lig