All Chapters of Marked By Moonfire: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

The moon still lingered above the treetops, pale and swollen, as though it had witnessed everything and now refused to set. The compound lay quiet, but it was not the quiet of peace—it was the fragile stillness that follows destruction, when every sound threatens to shatter what little remains.Nova stood at the edge of her small lodge, the cold wood pressing into her palms. She hadn’t slept. She couldn’t. Every time she closed her eyes, the bond burned through her chest like a brand, reminding her of what had happened. What she and Kilian had done.They were bound. Irrevocably.Her body still trembled with echoes of the fire that had consumed her. Not just heat, not just desire, but something deeper, something that had reached into her very bones and carved a mark that would never fade. She could feel him even now—his heartbeat like a drum in her veins, his emotions brushing against hers

The compound was quieter than usual, but it wasn’t peace that hung in the air — it was the kind of silence that came before a storm. The wolves moved more slowly, their steps heavier, and their eyes… hollow. Something was wrong. Lyra had felt it for days, creeping like frost beneath the surface. Warriors who had once trained until dawn now limped across the yard. Others complained of fatigue, nausea, and headaches that wouldn’t fade.At first, she had blamed the recent battles. Too many rogues. Too little sleep. Too much blood. But then Ryen — one of the strongest fighters in the western patrol — collapsed mid-sentence in front of her, foam on his lips, veins blackening under his skin.Lyra had screamed for Silas.He had come running, coat flaring behind him, face a mask of concern. He’d examined R

The night split open with the sound of war.Howls rose in the distance — hundreds of them — rolling across the valley like thunder. The air itself seemed to recoil, heavy with the metallic scent of blood and something fouler, something unnatural.Nova stood atop the wooden rampart of the compound, the wind lashing her hair into wild strands. Beneath her, the forest seethed with movement — shadows shifting, eyes glinting red in the dark.“Rogues,” Lyra muttered beside her. “Too many.”Nova gripped the railing until her knuckles whitened. “They’re not alone.”She could feel it — the rhythm of boots, the metallic scrape of weapons, the cold precision of human minds. Hunters.Her heart clenched. Once, those footsteps had been hers.Below, the court

The cavern breathed around her like something alive.Water dripped from the ceiling in slow, rhythmic beats, and every sound seemed to echo back with its own heartbeat. Nova sat on the cold stone floor, her wrists free now—Draven had dismissed the magic restraints as soon as she stopped fighting.He didn’t need them anymore.He had her curiosity.He stood before her, the torchlight cutting sharp lines across his face. Behind him, Naira leaned against the wall, arms crossed, eyes glittering like knives. The faint shimmer of runes burned across the stone—ancient marks that pulsed with power older than any pack.Draven’s voice broke the silence.“Do you know where you stand, Nova?”She said nothing.He smiled faintly, the kind of smile that came from someone who

The night was silent when Lyra descended into the catacombs beneath the old library — the place where the pack’s oldest secrets were buried along with its dead.Her torch hissed softly, light flickering against the carvings of wolves and moons that lined the stone walls. Dust thickened the air, clinging to her throat like the weight of forgotten truths.Few dared to come here anymore.The catacombs were said to be haunted — not by ghosts, but by memories.Lyra had always believed in logic, in blood, in leadership, and loyalty. But tonight, logic no longer felt enough. Tonight, she needed answers that lived beyond reason.At the base of the final stair, she found the heavy door.She pushed it open slowly, the hinges creaking like a groan from the earth itself.Inside, the librarian was waiting.