Todos los capítulos de Salt and Starlight: Capítulo 31 - Capítulo 40

The cottage didn’t rest that night.Even after her aunt’s footsteps faded down the path, the air still pulsed with uneasy energy, the wards trembling as if they’d caught a fever. Every flame in the house burned blue.Rowan sat by the hearth long after Lucien went upstairs. She turned the crushed remnants of the pouch over in her hands, careful not to touch the blackened ribbon still clinging to it.Windy lay across her feet, awake but silent, one ear flicking toward every sound.“It’s her, isn’t it?” Rowan whispered. “The aunt she used to be is still in there somewhere.”Windy whined softly, pressing closer.When Rowan finally slept, her dreams were thick and heavy—smoke, mirrors, and the scent of salt burning in airless rooms.She woke before dawn to Windy barking furiously at the hearth.“Windy?” Rowan rubbed her eyes. “What is it, girl?”The dog clawed at the rug, digging until her paws struck something hard. The floor beneath the hearthstone shimmered faintly, a sigil appearing wh

By evening, the wind had turned sharp again. It carried the taste of salt and metal, the kind that clung to your throat long after you closed the window. Rowan sat at the kitchen table, the remnants of ash still dusting her palms. Lucien had been quiet all afternoon, moving from shelf to shelf in the hidden library beneath the house, pulling down books older than empires. When he returned, his expression was darker than she’d ever seen. “It wasn’t an ordinary spell,” he said at last. “The mark beneath the hearth wasn’t placed by a Watcher. It came from the Court itself.” Rowan’s breath caught. “The inner circle?” He nodded. “The High Council of the Lunar Court. There are only seven who bear their seal. This… this was the Moon Regent’s own mark.” Windy growled, her hackles rising. “What does that mean?” Rowan asked. Lucien’s eyes flickered with unease. “It means they’ve declared you a threat to the balance they control. They won’t send shadows next time. They’ll come themselves.

By dawn, the tide had reached the edge of the cliffs.Not the usual slow rise and fall, but a creeping surge that defied the moon’s pull. The sea had taken on a strange hue—dark, glassy blue streaked with veins of silver light. It pulsed, steady and alive, as though breathing in time with her.Rowan stood at the window, wrapped in a blanket, watching the water climb. Windy pressed against her leg, ears flattened.Lucien approached quietly, his eyes tracing the shifting horizon. “It’s early,” he said softly. “The tide shouldn’t be this high for hours.”“It’s not the tide,” Rowan whispered. “It’s her.”Lucien stilled. “The Deep One?”Rowan nodded. “She’s calling for payment.”The moment the words left her mouth, the air changed. A low hum vibrated through the floorboards, like the heartbeat of something vast beneath them. The teacups on the table rattled. The fire guttered, then flared blue.Lucien drew a breath. “If she’s come to collect, we can’t stay here. The cottage will draw her s

Far beyond Mystic, beneath the pale glow of a waning moon, the Lunar Court gathered.Their throne room was carved into the bones of a long-forgotten sea creature, its ribcage transformed into arches of polished pearl. The air shimmered with enchantments so old they hummed like distant thunder.At the center stood the Moon Regent.Her face was hidden by a mask of silver thorns, her voice smooth and cold.“The name has been spoken,” she said. “The seal is broken.”A dozen masked figures shifted uneasily around her, their robes whispering like the tide.“She lives,” one murmured. “The Tideweaver’s heir.”“Impossible,” said another. “The child perished in the fire.”“She did not,” the Regent replied. “The bloodline hid her behind another name.”Her gloved fingers clenched the edge of her throne. “And he knew.”A ripple of tension passed through the chamber.A single word hung in the air like a curse:“Lucien.”The Regent’s tone sharpened. “The traitor prince has bound himself to her blood

The red moon did not fade with dawn.It hung over Mystic like an opened wound, staining the snow with a faint blush and turning the sea to dark wine. The town moved quietly—doors stayed latched, shutters half-closed—as if the people beneath them felt some old story waking and wanted no part in it.Inside the cottage, Rowan felt the change before she could name it. The air had a grain to it, as if the world’s fabric was being pulled in opposite directions. The pendant at her throat warmed; her grandmother’s ring throbbed once, twice, then went still.“They’re going to break something,” she whispered.Lucien looked up from the open grimoire, the red light catching in his amber eyes. “Not something,” he said. “A law.”Windy pricked her ears toward the study. The hidden door shivered and eased open on its own, a breath exhaled from the deep. The ancestral library smelled of tide and lavender and iron, like a wound being cleaned.Rowan descended the steps with Lucien at her heels. In the c