Todos os capítulos de Bound By Moonlight: Capítulo 21 - Capítulo 30

Emry’s POVThe afternoon sun poured through the council courtyard, turning the white stone almost gold. The air hummed with life—wolves training, children laughing, the distant clang of metal.And, somehow, Mirae’s voice above it all.“Absolutely not!” she called toward a bewildered guard. “If you think I’m letting anyone hang dull brown banners for a divine mating celebration, you’re out of your mind. We’re talking moonlight, silver, maybe lilac—something that doesn’t look like a funeral!”Emry groaned from the steps where she sat with a basket of parchment Mirae had forced into her hands. “You realize I didn’t agree to a festival.”Mirae whirled, hands on her hips. “It’s not a festival; it’s a statement. You and Braxton are the first bonded pair blessed by the moon in generations. People need hope—and honestly, I need an excuse to boss people around again.”“You never need an excuse,” Emry muttered.Mirae ignored her, plucking a quill from the basket and sketching quick notes on one

Emry’s POVSunlight streamed across the room in long golden bars, carrying the warmth of early spring. Outside, the courtyard was already alive — the steady rhythm of hammers, the rustle of fabric, Mirae’s voice cutting through it all like a command wrapped in cheer.Emry sat by the window, still in her linen shift, hair tumbling loose over her shoulders. The breeze carried the scent of baking bread and crushed flowers. Everything felt so normal that it almost hurt.Through the open shutters, she could see the pack working — stringing lanterns between the pines, polishing the carved stones where the vows would be spoken. Mirae moved among them like a force of nature, hands flying as she scolded, directed, and encouraged in equal measure.Emry smiled faintly, then let the expression fade. She should have been happy — and part of her was — but beneath it all lay a quiet restlessness, the kind that came before a storm.She pressed her palm to her chest, feeling the hum of the bond — Brax

Third-Person — Seren’s MemorySleep never came easily anymore. The forest whispered too loudly, threading dreams with memories until she couldn’t tell which was real.Seren’s head rested against the cold wall of the hollow, eyes half-lidded. The rhythm of the roots pulsed in her veins, dragging her mind backward — to the day it all began.⸻A Year EarlierThe air north of the Frostline had smelled different — sharp, metallic, touched with the faint sweetness of rot. Even then, Seren had known the rumors were true: something was stirring beyond the old borders.The rogues were changing.Not just rabid or broken — organized. Driven by something that called itself truth.She and Theron had gone north with purpose. The elders had begged them not to, warned that the Bloodwood was cursed, that even the goddess’s voice could not cross it. But Seren had felt the pull for months — dreams filled with crimson trees and a voice that wasn’t quite divine but heartbreakingly familiar.She’d told The

Emry’s POVThe glade had been transformed into a living hymn.Silver banners rippled between the ancient pines, and violet blossoms threaded through their knots, each petal reflecting the soft radiance of the lowering sun. The air itself shimmered — warm, gold at its edges, but touched with violet where the light met shadow.Every breath smelled of pine, rain, and moonlilies.Every sound carried a quiet reverence.Emry stood just beyond the arch of woven branches that marked the threshold. Beyond it, Braxton waited on the dais — dark suit brushed with silver threads, sunlight turning his hair the color of old fire.Her heart pounded, not from nerves, but from the weight of it all.The pack gathered in silent awe, the elders robed in white and gray. Even the forest seemed to hold its breath.A soft touch brushed her arm.Eastin.Her brother wore the ceremonial cloak of a family witness, its clasp shaped like the twin moons of their house crest. His expression was both proud and relucta

Emry’s POVThe fever broke with the dawn, but the chill it left behind refused to leave.When Emry woke, the world felt muted—colors pale, sound thin, like everything existed one breath too far away.Braxton hadn’t moved from her bedside. His eyes were rimmed red from a night without sleep, his hand clasped around hers like he feared she’d vanish if he let go.The basin beside him was filled with cooled water and wilted petals. The scent of moonlily had gone sour.“You’re awake,” he said softly, voice cracked from worry.“I think so,” she whispered. “Though I can’t tell what’s dream and what’s left of it.”He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to her hand. “You scared the hell out of me, Em.”Her lips parted. “He found me.”Braxton’s head snapped up. “Who?”She hesitated—then shook her head. “Later.”Before he could ask again, the door opened.Eastin entered first, his expression the picture of control, but the tightness around his mouth betrayed the fear he carried. Behind him cam