All Chapters of The Luna's Secret Heir : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

The morning light barely touched the mouth of the cave when Lucian called the council together. The fire from the night before had left scars on the land and on the hearts of his people. Smoke still lingered in the distance, carried on the wind, a bitter reminder of what had happened.Inside the cavern, the atmosphere was thick with tension. The elders sat in a half-circle, their faces shadowed and grim. Warriors and hunters lined the edges of the space, their eyes sharp, their voices hushed. Every glance seemed to carry the same unspoken question: What do we do with her?Elena sat near the back, shoulders hunched, trying to make herself smaller. She could feel the weight of every stare, every whisper. Her skin burned, not from fire this time, but from shame.Lucian stood in the center, his presence commanding, his voice calm but edged with steel.“We survived the flames because we stood together,” he began, his gaze sweeping over the pack. “But let us be clear—the flames were not an

Sleep never came to Elena that night.Every time she closed her eyes, she saw those glowing eyes staring from the shadows—unblinking, silent, and full of something that wasn’t human.By dawn, the forest felt heavier than usual. A low fog hugged the ground, curling around her ankles as she made her way back to the cave. The air smelled of rain and smoke, and though the storm had passed days ago, she couldn’t shake the sense that something else was brewing—something worse.Lucian was already awake when she entered. He stood near the mouth of the cave, arms folded, watching the light creep over the trees. His wolf senses picked up her presence before she spoke.“You didn’t sleep,” he said without turning.Elena hesitated. “Neither did you.”He turned then, his eyes catching hers. There were dark circles beneath them, proof that the night had been as long for him as it had for her. “I felt something strange in the woods,” he said quietly. “A scent I didn’t recognize. It wasn’t one of ours

The night pressed close, heavy with silence.Elena sat by the dying fire, her knees drawn to her chest. Everyone else had gone to rest—Lucian’s men posted watch along the borders, their shadows shifting through the fog—but she couldn’t sleep. The whisper inside her wouldn’t let her.The fire before her burned low, just embers now. They pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat matching her own.You feel it too, don’t you?The voice came like a breath through the smoke—soft, ancient, and strangely familiar.Elena froze. Her fingers dug into the dirt. “Who’s there?” she whispered.No answer. Only the soft crackle of the embers. Then the whisper came again, threading through the air like heat.You’ve been running from me for too long.Her pulse jumped. The world tilted slightly, the shadows around her rippling like waves of molten gold. She looked down—and gasped.The embers were no longer still. They swirled together, lifting from the ground and circling her hands like glowing dust.Elena tried

The forest was still smoldering when they began their journey.Every step crunched over blackened ground, every breath filled with the smell of ash and damp earth. The early light struggled to cut through the smoke that clung to the trees, making everything look gray and ghostly.Elena walked beside Lucian, her hand brushing against his arm for balance. Her legs still felt weak after the fire, but she refused to slow down. The others followed at a distance — quiet, watchful, their eyes darting toward her and then quickly away.She could feel their fear like a heavy weight pressing on her back.Lucian kept his eyes ahead, scanning the trees. His wolf senses were sharp, but even he seemed uneasy. “We need to reach the river before nightfall,” he said. “It’s the only safe place left before the border.”Elena nodded. “And after that?”He hesitated before answering. “We find answers. About what’s inside you. About who’s trying to take it.”She didn’t ask how. The truth was, she wasn’t sure

The night burned quietly over the ruins.A single candle flickered inside the blackened temple, its flame too weak to chase the shadows that clung to the marble walls. Dust floated through the air like falling snow, settling on bones that had long forgotten the warmth of blood.And in the center of it all, Seraphine Cross knelt before an altar of cracked stone.Her hands were steady as she traced a symbol on the surface — a spiral of ash and silver dust. The air hummed with power. The candle flame stretched higher, bending toward her like it recognized its master.Seraphine opened her eyes.They were not human eyes. Not anymore.They shimmered faintly violet, with tiny rings of fire circling the pupils.“The flame breathes again,” she whispered. Her voice was low and melodic, carrying the calm certainty of someone who had waited centuries for this moment. “After all these years… it found another host.”A sound came from behind her — boots scraping stone.A man stepped into the light.