Lahat ng Kabanata ng ASHES OF THE LUNA QUEEN: Kabanata 31 - Kabanata 40

The skies tore like silk set ablaze. Vaelith’s true form towered above the battlefield now, no longer cloaked in illusion or shadow. She was cosmic, a being made of collapsed galaxies and forgotten prayers, her hair a veil of void, her voice a gravitational command. And yet, standing beneath her, Liora did not kneel. She burned.Starfire wrapped around her in spiraling rings, not just light, but memory. Each flicker carried the lives of those who had come before her. Serenya. The Moon Priestesses. The lost wolves of the Starcourt. Even the ones her mother had failed.And now they spoke, not with words, But with power. You are not forged for death. You are born for choice. Vaelith struck first. Not with claws. But with truth. “Your mother is broken. Your father is a liar. And you” Her hand lashed out, beams of voidlight slicing across the realm “are just a child pretending to be whole.”Liora deflected with a burst of raw Starfire, the impact shaking the skies. Her feet skidded across

Nightwind was still healing. The outer walls had been rebuilt. The moon runes relit. Wolves returned, some with limp, some with scars, all with stories. And Liora, She led not as Luna. But as guardian. She refused the title of queen.She took no throne. Instead, she walked among her people, slept beneath the open sky, and listened. For the first time, she wasn’t a prophecy. She was a person. But peace never lingers when the past is unfinished. And Kaelen’s shadow had returned.It came not with blood. But with a letter. Sealed with his crest, a broken sun wrapped in thorns. Delivered by a stranger. The stranger arrived on the night of the Blood Moon. Tall. Cloaked in twilight-black, the edges of his aura sparking with ancient magic. He was not wolf.Not fully. And when Liora met him at the gates, her fingers twitched instinctively toward the dagger at her hip. “You carry the mark of my father,” she said.The man bowed. “I carry his final truth.” He handed her a scroll. No tricks. No tr

The stone walls of the ruined Sanctuary trembled as light poured from beneath the earth. Not sunlight. Not moonlight. But firstlight, the primordial fire forged before time, before prophecy, before even Serenya. Liora stood still as the glow wrapped around her, weightless yet heavy with meaning.A voice rose from below. Soft. Strong. Shaped by sorrow. “You are not alone in this, child.”A figure emerged. She looked… like Serenya. Same eyes. Same bone structure. But her presence was different. Calmer. More grounded. And in her gaze, there was no worship. Only warning.She stepped barefoot from the flame, wearing robes made of shadowed starlight. “I am Altheya,” she said.“The sister history erased.”Liora’s breath caught. “I thought Serenya was the first.”“She was the first light,” Altheya said. “But I… was the first anchor.”She led Liora down into the chamber, a place older than gods, where echoes of forgotten wars still whispered in the stone. Carvings on the walls showed two wolve

The stars dimmed. Not from clouds. Not from storm. But from presence. Something ancient, measured, without heartbeat, had entered the realm. Caelen had arrived. He did not walk through gates. He did not tear through sky. He simply was.One moment, Nightwind breathed peace. The next, he was standing in the garden. At the center. Among Aria’s flowers. Uninvited. Unafraid. He looked nothing like Liora… And yet, everything about him reflected her worst fears. Tall.Motionless. Cloaked in armor that shimmered silver and bone-white, no insignia, only that blank, perfect sun of the Circle. No weapon in hand. Because he didn’t need one. Altheya and Liora arrived seconds later.The earth trembled beneath their steps, not from magic, But from recognition. Altheya stopped cold. “Gods,” she breathed. “They perfected him.” Liora said nothing. Just stepped forward.Eyes on his. “You’re Caelen.” He nodded once. No sound. She studied his face. He was beautiful the way ice is beautiful, flawless, shar

There is a silence that comes before destruction. Not the hush of fear. Not the stillness of awe. But the silence of certainty. The kind that waits not for permission, only for a beginning. And in that silence, Liora stood. The Starend Flame thrumming beneath her skin like a heartbeat born from ruin itself.Valen stood across the field of dust and broken stone, his Crown crumbling slightly with every pulse of its unholy power. Behind him, the dead gathered. But not mindless. They stared. Some wept. Others whispered. Not in pain, In remembrance.Because even as echoes, they still felt the truth of Liora. She had lived when they had not. She had loved when they could not. She had fought when the world begged her to fall.Valen lifted his arm. “I offered peace,” he called out. “You chose memory. Now you’ll die for it.” Liora’s voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to.The flame on her shoulders pulsed gold-white with threads of shadow woven through. “I don’t fight for memory,” she said. “I f