Lahat ng Kabanata ng Bound to the moon: Kabanata 81 - Kabanata 90

Kael didn’t even hesitate. The moment Celina’s scream echoed through the fortress, he ran.“Kael!” I shouted after him, but my voice was swallowed by the pounding of his boots against the stone steps.Riven swore under his breath. “Of course he’d go charging straight to her.”My fire rippled under my skin, a jealous, restless heat that made my hands tremble. “We need to see what’s happening,” I said, moving after Kael despite Riven’s sharp “Wait.”We found them in the lower courtyard. Celina was on the ground, her face pale and her hands clutching her side like she’d been struck.Kael was already crouched beside her, his hands steadying her shoulders. “What happened? Celina, talk to me.”She looked up at him with tear-bright eyes, her voice trembling. “I… I don’t know. I was just walking and… Something grabbed me. A shado

The floor tilted beneath me. My hands fumbled for something solid, but the stone was already rushing up to meet me.I hit the ground hard.Voices became noise, muffled, distant, and waterlogged. My limbs felt like they were floating away from my body, scattered into smoke. I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. Inside my chest, my heartbeat fluttered like a trapped bird, frantic… dying.I heard Kael yell my name.Someone shoved past others in the room. Thorne, maybe. Or Riven. But their voices were a blur, tangled with the echo of something darker pulsing through my veins.And through it all… a cold, steady voice. Celina.“She just fainted. It’s the pregnancy. I warned her she’s been pushing herself too hard.”Liar.But I couldn’t form the word. My tongue wouldn’t move. I tried to lift my hand, but it wouldn’t obey me.I wasn’t in control anymore.

I jerked awake, my throat dry, my hands trembling.The room was still. Too still.It wasn’t real. The fire. The blood. Darius convulsing beneath my power. I hadn’t killed him. I hadn’t even touched him.It was just a dream. A twisted, brutal dream.And yet my heart pounded like I had lived it.My hands went to my belly on instinct. The child. Still there. Still watching.I sat up slowly, taking in the chamber, my chamber, and the low flicker of candlelight across the stone. My senses twitched. Something was off.The air had a scent. Not blood. Not smoke. Something... living. Coiled. Waiting.I turned toward the far edge of the room and froze.There, nestled under the edge of the pelts, was a snake. Long and scaled, its eyes glowing faintly gold in the firelight.It wasn’t a normal snake. I didn’t need a seer’s vision to feel that.It was death wrapped in scales.I

I hadn’t seen Riven this still in days. He sat at the long table in the private war chamber, his usual scowl softened by fatigue. The last battle had drained him—body, mind, and soul. A thick silence settled in the room, broken only by the flicker of torchlight and the creak of leather as Kael leaned forward.I entered quietly, clutching my robe tighter, still shaken by the last nightmare. The one where Darius bled out beneath my feet, though I hadn’t touched him.“Rory,” Riven murmured, noticing me first. His voice was quieter than usual. I moved toward him but stopped when a serving girl brushed past me carrying a silver tray.She moved too fast.Too neat.Riven reached for the goblet she offered without glancing at her. I noticed the hesitation in her step, almost too subtle, but it made my stomach twist.“Wait,” I said.Riven paused, fingers barely touching the cup. Kael raised an eye

The scream still echoed in my skull as we charged through the corridor, the air so thick with tension it was like running through smoke. My heart thudded hard, as if it too recognized the sound of death.We burst into the chamber, Riven first, Kael right behind, and me at their heels. The room stank of sweat and blood and something bitter, poison.The maid was on the ground, writhing. Her face was twisted in agony, a shattered vial clutched in her hand, the glass cutting deep into her skin. Her mouth frothed. She’d taken it.Too late.Celina’s mother knelt beside her, one hand clutching the maid’s collar, the other shaking. Her face wasn’t one of guilt.It was a triumph.“I told her to be quiet,” she spat, voice hoarse with rage. “Told her not to scream.”Riven moved forward, slowly now, the fury in his stance replaced by something colder: purpose. “You poisoned her.”