All Chapters of His Luna, His Regret : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

The valley was restless. Even under the soft silver glow of the Moon, wolves moved with unease. Whispers traveled like wind through the trees: rumors, fears, subtle suspicions. The Council’s spy had fled, but his presence lingered like a shadow, planting seeds of doubt. Every glance, every hesitation, felt amplified in the tight-knit community Lunaria had built. Kael stood at the edge of the ridge, golden eyes scanning the valley floor. His wolf growled low beneath his skin, sensing the tension that had taken root. “They’ve poisoned the mind,” he said quietly, voice grim. “Even one whisper can fracture a pack.” Lunaria, standing beside him, felt it too. The bond between them pulsed softly, and through it, she could feel the faint tremors of fear running through the valley—wolves second-guessing each other, mistrusting even the most loyal among them. “The Council’s not done,” she said. Her silver eyes were sharp, unwavering. “They send spies, yes. But their real weapon… is betray

The valley held its breath. The tranquility of dawn was deceptive, masking the storm gathering beyond the ridges. Scouts had returned with warnings: multiple Council contingents were moving, not just one army, but coordinated packs approaching from every side. This was no ordinary attack. It was a multi-pronged strike—a test of strategy, loyalty, and endurance. Kael stood beside Lunaria atop the central ridge, golden eyes narrowing at the horizon. His wolf coiled beneath his skin, muscles rippling with anticipation. “They’ve learned from their last failure,” Kael said, voice low and dangerous. “This time, they’ll hit every flank simultaneously. If even one breaches, chaos will spread.” Lunaria’s silver eyes glimmered. “Then we make sure no flank breaks. The valley is not just land—it’s a weapon. Every ridge, every forest, every wolf under our protection is ready. And every strike they attempt will meet our bond.” Her wolf purred softly beneath her skin. Together. Always togethe

The dream came before the dawn. Lunaria stood alone in a forest she did not recognize. The trees were pale, bark like bone, leaves silver as frost. No wind. No sound. Just the echo of her own breathing. Then— A voice. Soft. Ancient. Familiar. Luna child… She turned. A she-wolf stood between the trees. Massive. Ethereal. Her fur shimmered like starlight caught in mist. Her eyes were not silver. They were white. Not blind. Infinite. Lunaria’s wolf dropped low in instinctive reverence. You have walked far, the she-wolf said. But you do not know where you began. The ground beneath Lunaria’s feet rippled like water. Images flashed—too fast to grasp. Fire. A woman screaming. A symbol carved into stone. A newborn wrapped in cloth marked with the same sigil the Council used. Lunaria gasped. “What is this?” she whispered. Truth, the she-wolf replied. And what they buried. The forest shattered. She woke with a sharp inhale. Kael was instantly awake beside her. “You felt

The valley did not celebrate. No howls of victory rose into the sky. No wolves boasted of survival. Because everyone felt it. That strange, heavy stillness after the Council retreated. Not defeat. Preparation. Lunaria stood at the ridge before dawn, the sky painted in cold gray light. Her silver mark hadn’t dimmed since the battle at the stone chamber. It pulsed softly, like it was listening to something far away. Kael joined her, quiet as always, his presence warm against the chill air. “They’re gathering,” he said. Lunaria nodded. “Not wolves.” He frowned. She looked at him. “Elders.” --- By midday, the scouts confirmed it. Council territories that had once been filled with soldiers were now empty. Abandoned. Silent. But deep within the mountains, where no pack dared roam, smoke rose in slow, deliberate spirals. The place of origin. The place even Alphas avoided speaking about. The First Den. Kael’s expression darkened. “They’re calling the Elders.” Lunaria’s

They left before the Moon dipped.No army.No fanfare.Just Lunaria. Kael. Nyra. And six of the most trusted wolves in the valley.Because this was not a battle of numbers.This was a confrontation with history.The mountains rose like jagged teeth against the night sky, black and ancient and watching. The path to the First Den was barely a path at all—more memory than trail. Even the wind seemed reluctant to pass through.Lunaria felt it the moment they crossed into the mountain range.A pressure in the air.Old.Heavy.Waiting.Her silver mark pulsed once.Then again.As if something ahead had felt her approach.By dawn, they saw it.Carved into the face of the mountain was an entrance so vast it looked like the mountain had opened its mouth to swallow the world.Stone pillars lined the mouth of the cave, each etched with symbols older than any pack language still spoken.Kael’s wolf bristled.“This place should not exist anymore,” he muttered.Nyra whispered, “No wolf speaks of it