บททั้งหมดของ Marked and forsaken : บทที่ 71 - บทที่ 80

That’s why Grandma attacked me in the woods—when Caelora called my name. But no. There’s no way Rauth’s mother knew my mother. And yet… they never acted strangers . Why? Why? Wait. Why am I standing here trying to piece this together alone when the answer is staring me in the face? I pull myself together, spine straightening as I lock my gaze on Rauth. He stiffens immediately—he can sense it, the storm rising in me. I say, my voice steady but burning underneath. “How long have you known about this? No—how many deathly secrets are you keeping from me? Because clearly, your bloodline feeds on them.” My heart pounds, my pulse a wildfire. “Don’t you think if you’d told me earlier, I would’ve had the chance to ask my mother something—anything—before she—” “Stop it,” Rauth cuts in, his tone sharp, controlled, too calm. Calculative. But I press on, refusing to let his calmness cage me. “Tell me what you know.” “I’ve told you—I don’t know more!” Rauth snaps, his

🥀“ “Come,” he says. “I’ll be back,” I tell Nyvrae as I rise. He takes my hand, his palm steady, and another clearing opens before us as we walk. We’re heading toward the cliffs. “We can’t go around the cliffs now—it’s dark,” I murmur. “It’s not dark,” he says quietly, and presses onward. The night wind meets us first—cold and heavy with salt. Then the cliffs open, wide and trembling under the moonlight. He turns to me. “I’m sorry, Queen. And for once, it’s not just about earlier.” His voice falters, softer now. “But I’m really sorry for earlier too. I just… couldn’t keep it from you anymore.” I snap, “But either way, I would’ve still found out.” “Yes,” he admits, voice low, “and I wanted it to come from me first.” I fold my arms, but my tone softens. “I forgive you… but you yelled at me.” He exhales, the edge in his eyes melting into regret. “I’m sorry, Queen. And I’m also sorry about that day on the cliff. I lied when I said the sun was better without its warmth.

🥀I first met Serenya when we were seven,” Kerynna says, eyes drifting into the fog of memory. “It was in the East—our land. We clicked almost immediately. I was the youngest daughter of the Cat Luna, chained to the Citadel walls, my steps measured and my freedoms few. But Serenya…” she exhales, a faint smile ghosting her lips, “Serenya was a wild thing. Even as a child, she carried the scent of wind and dusk on her fur. She’d come to visit me all alone—never once afraid.” Her gaze softens, caught somewhere between fondness and pain. “She told me her mother was the Luna of the female raging tribe in the West, and that she’d been sent to live with her aunt in the East. I asked why her mother would let her go so young—when mine barely let me breathe outside her shadow.” And she said I was stubborn. I asked what she was stubborn about, and she told me—she had a male friend, a boy her mother forbade her to see. But she wouldn’t stop visiting him, and so her mother sent her away to the

💔☘️Kerynna just stands there, weeping silently, her eyes fixed on her sister. Aunty Caelora doesn’t move. She sits beside us like any sudden breath might scare Kerynna away. “Was finding yourselves husbands an excuse for not looking for me?” Kerynna spits, her voice cold—every word a sharp blade, every syllable trembling with years of buried hurt. Aunty Caelora shakes her head, weeping, like she could force Kerynna to take the words back just by denying them hard enough. Kerynna’s voice quivers through the silence. “When you couldn’t find me in the West—why didn’t you go to another land? Why did you stay?” She breathes between the tears, her grief raw enough to burn. We lost the others,” Aunty Caelora forces out, her voice cracking like something old and fragile. “We thought whatever took you… had taken them too.” Kerynna’s gaze hardens. “So you stayed to avenge them?” Her tone is cold, stripped of mercy. Aunty Caelora hesitates, eyes flicking between the ground and her

🌸🪷Meek, unassuming, focused, truthful, intelligent, brave — but utterly uninterested in politics, power, or social standing. My dear uncle, Anzelrius.” He spits the name with joy and confidence, a rare smile lighting his face like dawn breaking after a long storm. “Your dear uncle?” I echo, blinking in surprise. “How come he’s so dear, yet I’ve never heard you speak of him?” He exhales, a small laugh escaping, half guilt, half memory. “Because I never thought of bothering him. He was the one who spoke for me when the Council of Elders sentenced me to twenty years in chains.” I feel my breath catch. “He did?” Rauth nods slowly. “He told them I deserved one last chance—to make an honorable decision for myself.” “That was how I was able to change my name and choose exile,” he says quietly, “to stop my mother’s clan from war, protect the very thing I promised my father… and keep my life too.” My breath catches. “What is this thing you promised him?” He spares me a cold, weary g