All Chapters of Chronicles Of Moonblood 1. The Wounded Heart: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

NyraCold. Bone-deep, merciless cold.The ground beneath my feet was wet, sticky—each step felt as if something living tried to drag me back down. Fog devoured the world around me; the trees leaned close, their trunks breathing, watching. The air was heavy, cloying with the sweet stench of rot that clogged my lungs. I didn’t know how I had come here. Only that I had to move. Forward. Something—or someone—was waiting for me.The silence was so absolute that even the sound of my heartbeat felt deafening.Then I heard it. A child’s voice. At first I thought it laughter, but quickly I realized: crying. Soft, muffled, the whimper of an infant far, far away. My stomach knotted. That sound… familiar, and yet strange. Too fragile. Too real.I followed it. The fog trembled, clung to me, reluctant to release me. With every step, the ground squelched—mud or blood, I couldn’t tell. The trees grew closer, their bark etched with strange markings. Not markings—faces.I stopped.Not faces—my face. Sh

NyraMorning’s peace draped over us like a thin veil, soft as dawn-mist clinging to the forest branches. The steam from our bath had long since faded, but its scent lingered—lavender and warmed water. Wrapped in a light robe, I rested in Aedan’s arms; we had returned to bed after the long night and my sickness that morning. Silence wrapped us, not empty but full—the silence of trust, of intimacy, of simply existing together.The morning seemed to hold still.At least, until we heard it.Knock-knock-knock. A pause. Knock-knock.The sound was almost ceremonial in the quiet, yet its rhythm was unmistakable. Aedan gave a low, amused growl.“Cassian,” he said dryly.I smiled, eyes closed, cheek against his chest.“So that was exactly how much time we had.”His hand traced down my back. “Three minutes of happiness. The daily ration the kingdom spares us.”From beyond the thick door, a calm yet firm voice carried through:“I hope you’re not asking for delay in the name of the children. At le

NyraAfter the council meeting we walked back to the royal quarters in silence. Words weren’t needed—the tension wove itself around us like fog creeping at the roots of trees. The corridors were deserted now; only the echo of our footsteps followed us, while my thoughts made the air heavier.As the door closed behind us, Aedan stayed by the heavy oak, resting his palm on the smooth surface for a moment, as if trying to shut out the noise of the world. Cassian moved toward the window where the morning light cut through the crystal glass; the shadows it cast on the floor were sharp—like his thoughts. I stood by the hearth. I didn’t sit down. Not yet. The tension in me slowly began to loosen, but only enough to make room for words. I knew that whatever we spoke aloud now would have consequences.Of course, Cassian broke the silence first.“It was a ruthless pace, but… necessary. The timing of the coronation could no longer remain a question.”He turned toward me. His gaze was sharp, but

The warmth of the stone-carved bath swallowed the outside world. Steam drifted around me like a veil, breaking the moonbeams that slipped in from outside. The scent of rose and honey mingled with the vapor rising off the water, as if nature itself had conspired on our side—so that only the two of us would remain in this slow, near-timeless moment.Nyra sat on the rim of the tub, the water up to her thighs, tiny droplets rolling down her body like strings of pearls. Her skin was flushed from the heat, damp strands of hair clung to her shoulders. I knelt in the water facing her, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I didn’t want to possess her—I wanted to honor her. Every feature, every movement, the way she sat there before me.Slowly, without a word, I leaned in and stroked her lower lip with my thumb. The touch was so delicate her eyes closed of their own accord, her lips parted a fraction, her breathing deepened. Still I didn’t kiss her right away. I lingered above her face, felt he

Nyra The darkness didn’t lift with the dream.I woke with a scream. My voice split the pre-dawn half-light like a blade, as if I had to warn the world that something inside me had broken. The sheet was soaked, the blanket twisted tight around my legs, my hair stuck to my face. I gulped at the air, heart hammering as if I were still running. My eyes were wide, but I saw nothing—only the dull blot of moonlight on the glass.And the voice. The woman’s voice. The one who said, in my dream, that she was my mother.The Moon Goddess.“Two children. One of light. One of shadow. But you cannot keep them both.”I trembled and pressed my hand to my belly on instinct, as if I could shield what I carried that way. The words still tolled through me like ill-omened bells. The dream had been too clear, too detailed, too… real. It didn’t feel like a vision. It felt like a prophecy. A warning. Tears slipped free without a sound. It wasn’t mere fear that made me cry, but the realization that the choice