บททั้งหมดของ Marked and forsaken : บทที่ 131 - บทที่ 135

🍀🍃Five years later, the West Clan sits in feral peace. Anzelrius has been executed by hanging, the corrupt elders exiled forever, and no soul dares rise in rebellion or treachery again. The calm across the lands feels almost unreal. Every street, every field, seems unnaturally quiet—so peaceful it sometimes bores me.In all my sisters , My sisters remain by my side—except Pelin, who reigns as Luna of our mother’s tribe.. Keala is more than happy as Luna in the South, naming a beautiful village after Moren, the first wolf and a female land name . Caelora has claimed the East as Cat Luna, her dominion respected and feared. Nyvrae only returns once a year, always with her mate. Thyra, however, has never come back since she left, and I worry for her, wondering how she fares. Dolly wanders the lands, frequenting her favorite haunts—the taverns loud with raucous, careless people. She sits in silence among the chaos, and somehow always ensures someone pays for their folly before she leav

He grab my hand, pulling me along. “Come, I want you to meet someone.” “What? Wait—I need to receive complaints for Pelin.” “That can wait,” he replies, tugging me forward. “Okay, can we not run? We’re too old for it!” He lets go of my hand I snap, turning back. “No, no, no,” he hurries, catching my hands again. “We walk together—slowly.” But I see the haste in his eyes. “Okay, we can walk fast,” I murmur. And then he starts running. I just smile as his feet barely touch the ground, graceful and purposeful. I tighten my hold on his hands, quickening my pace to match him. We reach the West Castle, and as we step inside, an elder female stands waiting. Varyn presses a subtle nod toward me, and my breath catches. She’s his mother—the same elder whose house I stumbled into that night I wandered the West lands. Now I understand what her silent tears were for—they were for me. Was she able to see through my frustration that night, or did she simply feel the weight

In the end, I never really thought I would say it—love is patience, love is sacrifice. Love is not quick to judge, it is not hateful. Love is not merely sweet or reverent, and it is not the absence of ache.Love is a quiet fire that warms even when the world is cold.It is a tide that pulls and releases, shaping the shores of the heart.a fragile bloom in a storm, yet stubborn enough to survive.Love is both shadow and light, always present, sometimes unseen.Love is sometimes a heartbeat echoing in the silence of longing.Yet the cruel truth I fear to admit is this: love asks no “why.” Love does not dwell in perfection. Love is the sword that rends every heart, leaving only surrender in its wake.But it baffles me how the very opposite of love can sometimes wear its skin—how longing, loneliness, and unprofitable pain can disguise themselves as devotion. If not tested by truth, they linger as shadows of love, breeding nothing but regret.And where do we draw the line between love and