Lahat ng Kabanata ng Reborn Luna: Kabanata 101 - Kabanata 110

TirianaMy body feels stiff with dried blood and filth. Every movement grates against my skin, the crusted layer cracking like brittle parchment. I’ve long stopped trying to guess how much time has passed—days, maybe weeks—but I won’t give in. I won’t beg Elira for mercy. I won’t beg her to stop.I am Nightshade.They can strip my body, they can try to crush my will, but they will never possess my mind.The air in this stone cell is thick with dampness and rot, heavy with the metallic tang of old blood. My own, mostly. I curl tighter against the cold wall, pressing my knees to my chest. Every heartbeat feels too loud, too slow, too fragile. But I cling to one thought like a flame in endless dark—my daughter is safe.Lilith.My brother will protect her. He always does. He’ll raise her with strength, with cunning, with the Nightshade steel that runs in our blood. Whatever becomes of me, she will live. That knowledge is enough to keep the spark alive inside me.A sound breaks the silence

StevieThe antiseptic smell of the infirmary burns my nose, sharp and clean in a way that makes me feel dirtier just sitting here. My arm throbs as the healer presses a damp cloth against the bite wound, and I grit my teeth.“Hold still,” she says, voice soft but firm.I do, even though every instinct in me screams to yank my arm back and snarl. I hate feeling weak. Hate needing someone to fix me.Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Jace leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, frown carved deep into his face.He’s been standing there like a damn statue since I walked in, silent but heavy. I can feel his mood like a weight in the room—disapproval, anger, something else I can’t quite name.The healer mutters something about “foreign material,” then uses tweezers to pull a small, jagged white piece from my arm. It lands with a metallic clink in the tray—a tooth—one of their teeth.My stomach twists.“Well,” she says, dropping it in a glass dish. “At least you got a souvenir.”I tr

HopeThe air down here always smells faintly of dust and iron ink.Ancient, like the stones themselves remember every whisper, every secret traded between their shelves. My fingertips trail along the spines of the oldest books, feeling the rough texture of cracked leather. No Lady Elira. No Rhys. Just Lina and me.A rare moment of quiet and minimal surveillance.The girl seems less slippery than the others, my wolf notes.I've been thinking about that too. Something tells me she doesn't want to report back on us. “Are you sure we’re allowed down here?” she asks softly. Her voice echoes off the arched ceiling like a bird that doesn’t want to land.“Allowed?” I smile. “Probably. I think the better understanding is that we haven’t been expressly forbidden.”Lina’s lips twitch, almost a smile, almost guilt. “If Lady Elira finds out—”“She won’t,” I cut in. “She’s too busy pretending to read the etiquette codex to impress the council.”That earns a small laugh, the kind that dies quickly.

KeithThe drive to Grace’s place feels longer than it should. Jace sits beside me in the passenger seat, silent for once, staring out the window. Normally, he’d be cracking jokes, humming some off-key tune, or pestering me about when I last took a break. But not today. Not after everything we talked about last night—about Stevie, and what he suspects.I glance over at him as we pull up the dirt path leading to the small cabin nestled in the pines. “You good?” I ask, cutting the engine.He doesn’t answer right away. His jaw ticks once, eyes still on the house. “Yeah,” he says finally, voice low. “Just… thinking.”Thinking. Right.That’s what he calls it when his instincts are running circles around him.Stevie had texted me this morning—short, to the point.We’re ready to talk. Mom’s expecting you.To other it my gut have seemed brisk, even disrespectful but I've been around Stevie long enough to know she likes to get straight to the point.She’s a strong female, I remind myself.Too s

HopeThe fire in my chamber burns low, licking faintly at the logs as I pace before it. The air smells of ash and lavender from the drying herbs hanging near the window. It’s late—too late for anyone to be awake but me. My mind refuses to quiet.I’m halfway through gathering parchment and ink from the desk when the door creaks softly open.“Lady Raya?”It’s Lina.She’s balancing a tray with a cup of warm milk and a plate of honeyed bread—the small kindness she insists on bringing me each night, though I never ask.But tonight, something is wrong.The instant the light from the fire touches her face, I see it.A dark bruise blooms across her throat—ugly, swollen, the shape unmistakable. Fingers.My stomach twists. The tray clatters as I stride forward, catching her by the shoulders before she can take another step.“Lina,” I whisper, my voice sharp with alarm. “What happened to you?”She flinches at my tone, her eyes darting to the floor. “It’s—nothing, my lady.”“Nothing?” I repeat, i