All Chapters of His Luna Returned—So I Left With His Baby”: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

The moonstone breathed under her feet.So did the crowd.***For a moment, nothing moved.Then Gate Three woke.Silver rose from the heart of the dais in a slow, deliberate swell—like mist thickening, like a tide coming in. Elowen felt it gather around her ankles, climb her calves, her thighs, her spine, until her whole body hummed with it.Her aura, which had learned restraint and hush and the careful stillness of survival, did not flatten now.It expanded.Not in a blast.In a controlled, inevitable reach.Around the bowl, the effect was immediate.Wolves weren’t built to ignore Lunaris authority when it focused. Even the ones who hated her, who had called her witch and vessel and threat, were creatures of instinct before they were lawyers.A low murmur ran through the slopes and cut off as bodies stilled.Heads lifted, then dipped an inch without meaning to.Some claws unsheathed and then retracted, as if hands had forgotten what gesture they’d been making.On the observer platform

The hood smelled like old cloth and new ink.And fear.***Elowen’s world snapped to black.Fabric rasped over her hair, sigil‑threads sparking cold against her skin. The hood clung to her mouth and nose, not enough to choke, enough to make every breath a reminder that someone else had decided what she could see.Hands tightened on her arms—one on her right bicep, another clamping hard above her left elbow. A third hand grabbed at the chain at her waist and pulled.Her body lurched.For a heartbeat, the urge to *panic* was huge and total. To thrash, to scream, to blow the circle and everything around it apart.The baby spiked under her palm, a sudden, frantic drumbeat.No.She dragged the instinct back.In on four.Out on six.She couldn’t see.But she could still feel.The Gate’s field was gone now—Rite closed, authority fading—but the old Lunaris stone still hummed somewhere under her boots, even as they left the dais.Her power surged against the hood’s dampening runes like water a

The name sounded pretty.It wasn’t.***“Sanctum Meridian,” Soryn said, rolling the words like something she’d rather spit. “High Howl calls it a “neutral evaluation facility.” It is not neutral. And it was never built for “safety.””Elowen sat at the small table in her “protective wing” room, an ankle band humming faintly. The comm rune on the wall glowed with a weak Lunaris link—voice only, no visuals; it was the best Kieran and Soryn had scraped through tribunal filters.“Tell me,” Elowen said.Soryn’s voice came cool and clear. “Meridian was commissioned after the last bloodline panic. A place to “appraise” dangerous anomalies. They consulted every defector, every frightened House willing to sell old ward patterns, every Tribunal‑friendly witch who wanted to test new toys. The result is a sanctum whose very walls are designed to mute what runs in your veins.”“Neutralize bloodlines,” Kieran added. His voice was rough—tired and angry. “Not just Lunaris. Any lineage they decide “nee

The ring closed around them like a promise.Or a trap.***Nightmoor and its allies packed the perimeter—wolves shoulder to shoulder, scents thick with fear, anger, and the ugly, hungry tang of people who’d come to see blood.Closer to Kael’s side, Calista’s supporters clustered—sleek, well‑dressed wolves whose loyalty smelled more of coin and fear than affection. A few wore discrete Dravenne insignia on cuffs or collars, subtle markers of which side of the ledger they’d chosen.Calista herself stood just beyond the observer line, flanked by a pair of tribunal enforcers who pretended to be neutral security. Her white dress gleamed against the darker Nightmoor palette. She looked like a queen to come to watch a tourney she’d already rigged.“Eyes on the circle,” Nyra murmured to Daire as she stepped back from the boundary. “Not on the peanut gallery.”He gave a curt nod.Across from him, Kael rolled his shoulders, loosening muscles with the easy confidence of a man who’d practiced in m

The convoy rolled out at midnight sharp.Of course it did.***Elowen felt the shift in her bones before she heard it.One moment, she was in the “protective wing” room, lights dimmed to a permanent twilight. The next, there was the sting of a sleep‑dart at her shoulder, a brief, heavy drag through cotton, and then—Movement.The floor under her wasn’t solid anymore.It rumbled.Swayed.She blinked grit from her eyes as consciousness clawed back in ragged pieces.Metal ceiling.No window.The air tasted like oil and ward‑ink.Transport.Again.Her wrists were bound in heavier shackles, this time—broad silver cuffs etched with denser Lunaris script than the initial “assessment” manacles. The band at her ankle hummed stronger, part of a larger circuit that ran through the reinforced floor.They’d learned from Moonfall.Two Tribunal enforcers sat on the bench opposite, rifles at ready. Another stood near the door, hand on the latch, eyes never leaving her.“Awake,” he said to the others.