Chronicles Of Moonblood 1. The Wounded Heart의 모든 챕터: 챕터 131 - 챕터 140

Morning arrived as if someone had brushed a fingertip along the edge of the stones—it made no sound, yet its presence could be felt.The torch wicks had been trimmed shorter yesterday;today only soft patches of light rested in the corners of the corridors.A short version of the House’s Order hung at both gates: three sentences, black ink, clean letters.We breathe as one.The quiet sign: meet each other’s eyes.A guest follows the rhythm.In the children’s room, Selin was folding the corner of her blanket,while Kael arranged his little wooden pieces into the day’s first pattern:three short, one long, then—lately—he left one space blank before adding two more.I looked at him; he looked back, and we both knew: I was watching, but I wouldn’t rush him.“Wait” was still two breaths today; the “exchange mark” remained.I didn’t want the rhythms of the adult world to slip onto them.Aedan stood in the doorway, cloak over his shoulder.From his eyes alone I knew: there would be an audit

In our village, everyone was a werewolf. It wasn’t a question, it wasn’t a choice, and it certainly wasn’t a secret. The Moon’s cycles ruled our lives—our hunts, our celebrations, even our quarrels. At dawn, when the first howl rose from the mountains instead of a rooster’s crow, the village wolves were already in motion: the men heading into the forest to hunt, the women herding the children, and the young ones practicing the change outside the village so they’d grow stronger, faster—worthy of the pack. I… I was never worthy of anything. My parents always said I was a strange girl. Not because I couldn’t shift—because I could, just clumsily and with too much pain. But because I made a fuss out of everything. If I had to fetch water from the well, I’d spill it on myself. If I had to bake bread, half the dough ended up on the floor. If we went foraging in the woods, I was always the first to trip over a root. The villagers said I stared at the sky too much, listened to the Moon too mu

The city rose out of the plain like the skeleton of some ancient mountain: stone and iron, silver-gray walls that caught the Moon’s ice-cold light here and there and cast it back onto the dusty road. As our wagons climbed the broad ramp, the wind carried pine resin, oil, and iron toward us, and there was something in the air that made every werewolf instinct tuck itself beneath the skin: the Order of the Alpha. Above the gate, a relief of a wolf’s head watched us, bone-white crescents set into its eye sockets, as if the stone itself were standing guard.Our escorts—the Shadow Wolves—rode alongside us in silence, and when we turned into the main courtyard they formed two ranks as if command itself lived in their movement. We were taken down from the wagons, young males to one side, girls and older women to the other. At the far end of the long court stood canvas-covered tables, scribes behind them, officers beside them selecting for the battalion’s ranks. The whole thing worked like a

After the inspection, I felt for the rest of the day as if some invisible hand were tightening around my throat. I tried to return to the daily work—carrying water in the Washhouse, watering in the garden, running through the corridors—but the knot in my stomach remained. I kept seeing the moment the king’s eyes locked with mine. I shouldn’t have looked at him. Everyone knew it was forbidden. Yet I still did it.“It was just a moment,” I kept repeating to myself. “No one will remember it. A single glance won’t cause trouble.”But the more I recalled the cold flicker in his eyes, the more certain I became: he would remember. And with men like him, a single glance was enough to cost someone their life.It happened first in the corridor.I was carrying a basket of clean linen on my shoulder, gripping it with both hands so nothing would fall out. The narrow stones of the servant wing echoed every step, so I counted ahead: one, two, three, placing my heel down softly. I had almost reached

The morning began exactly like any other. I woke early, hurriedly brushed out my long copper-red hair, then put on the gray linen dress worn by all the servants. Yet when I looked in the mirror, I saw myself far more nervous than usual. Since the previous night, I hadn’t been able to banish the king’s words for even a moment—nor that cold stare with which he had watched my trembling. My chest still tightened whenever I thought about how vulnerable I had felt in his chambers.As I stepped into the corridor, several of the others gave me lingering looks. I couldn’t tell whether I was only imagining it, or if they truly were watching my every move more closely. In the kitchen, the day’s tasks were already waiting for me: slicing bread, filling pitchers, then arranging the trays. I set to work diligently, yet today it seemed that no matter what I did, everything counted as a mistake.“Don’t cut the bread so thick,” snapped an older servant woman, practically twisting the knife out of my h