Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Luna in Me: Kabanata 21 - Kabanata 30

The corridor blurred around me as Waters and Clearway carried me, each heartbeat thudding like a dull weight in my ears. My breath kept catching in my throat, still uneven, still too fast. Every shift of their arms made my body spasm in tiny, broken tremors I couldn’t stop. We reached a door - tall, carved, familiar even through my haze - and Waters paused long enough to knock twice. Firm. Urgent. Respectful.“Bring her in.”Orion’s voice. Not calm. Controlled. Held tight like something dangerous was just beneath the surface. Clearway opened the door. Warm light spilled outward, flooding over my skin - gold lamplight, soft fireglow, the faint perfume of herbs. It made my eyes sting; after the darkness of the chamber, the brightness felt almost painful. Waters carried me in. Her grip stayed steady even as my muscles twitched against her. Orion was standing. Not composed in her chair. Not bent over her desk. Standing. She froze when she saw me. Her hands - which had been loosely clasped

Clearway finished smoothing the last of the fresh linens into the wardrobe while Waters arranged the tea tray, adjusting the honey bowl to sit within easy reach. I drew Orion’s robe tighter around myself, letting the soft fabric settle around my bruised ribs. The blue embroidery caught the morning light like water. My throat still ached, but I found myself speaking anyway.“Can I ask you something?”Clearway turned, hands folded neatly in front of her. “Of course.”Waters pulled up the small wooden chair and sat beside my bed, her face open and gentle. I hesitated. My hands curled in the robe.“Is she… always like this?”“Like what, Miss Thea?” Waters asked softly.“Kind.”The word felt fragile, as if speaking it too loudly might break it. Both women exchanged a glance - not surprised, but thoughtful. Clearway spoke first. “The Luna is… precise. Controlled. She doesn’t show affection often.”Waters nodded. “But when she chooses to be gentle, it is real. And rare.”Clearway added, even

The corridor outside my room was already alive with motion. Servants moved quickly with trays and linens. Attendants whispered in pairs. Doors opened and closed with hurried clicks. The air felt heavy-charged in a way I hadn’t felt before. Even the walls seemed to hold their breath. Waters and Clearway flanked me as they guided me through the Athena wing. Not touching-I was not permitted that-but close enough that their presence steadied me.“Slow steps,” Waters murmured. “There’s no rush.”But the house around us felt like it was rushing anyway. A pair of junior attendants brushed past us, whispering nervously.“Do you know what it’s about?” “No-only that the Alpha hasn’t called a hall address in years-” “Not the Alpha. The Luna. That’s what’s strange.”My stomach tightened. We reached the main corridor that cut toward the great hall. More bodies pressed through: servants adjusting their uniforms, pack members striding confidently without a whisper of fear, low-ranked wolves usherin

As Orion stood beneath the cold light of the high windows, the hall trembling with the weight of her words, something clicked into place inside me. Not fear. Not confusion. Understanding. The Luna was not merely delivering a warning. She wasn’t informing the pack. She wasn't calming a panic. She was doing something else entirely. Something only Luna could do. She was calling the pack to arms. My breath caught. Because I remembered something … something taught to us all as children:The Alpha leads the pack. But the Luna commands the warriors.And suddenly the pieces all aligned:Luna’s trained the fighters. Luna’s oversaw the defenses. Luna’s commanded guards, patrols, scouts. Luna’s organised counter-strikes. The Alpha ruled the pack. The Luna held the sword. Orion wasn’t warning the house. She was preparing for war. Orion stepped away from the podium. Her posture shifted, no longer the diplomatic calm she held in council, but something fiercer - a commander stepping onto a battlefie

The hallway outside the great hall was a river of bodies. Warriors rushing past in small groups, their boots thudding sharply against the stone. Servants weaving between them with trays, documents, and water skins. Scouts being escorted at a near-run toward the war room. I kept to the wall, silent, barefoot, collar cold against my skin. Waters and Clearway remained along the right wall with the other attendants, following the flow of their own ranks. They couldn’t break formation to reach me. But their eyes flicked toward me whenever the crowd parted-even if only for a heartbeat. I took another step. Pain burned up my calf. Another. My breath stuttered. Then-Two voices drifted sharply from a side corridor up ahead. Low. Urgent. Unaware that I was approaching. I slowed without meaning to. Not stopping-just… listening.“…I’m telling you, this wasn’t an isolated attack.”A man’s voice-rough, clipped.“We don’t know that,” another replied, whispering. “We only saw the aftermath.”“No,”