Semua Bab The Rejected Luna's Twin Alphas : Bab 61 - Bab 70

​I was on my knees, the crushing pressure of the Envoy’s presence feeling like the weight of the entire Atlantic Ocean pressing down on my shoulders. In the distance, I could hear the Reclaimed wolves screaming in the infirmary, their neural grafts reacting violently to the Envoy’s alien frequency. The world was spinning, turning into a blur of grey ash and violet light.​But then, the heavy oak doors to the Great Hall opened with a slow, deliberate creak.​Leo and Liam walked out into the courtyard. They didn’t look like five-year-old children anymore. Their movements were perfectly synchronized, their faces calm and ethereal, as if they were walking through a dream. They weren’t afraid. In fact, they looked at the Mercury Envoy as if they were looking at an old, tiresome teacher who had stayed far past his welcome.​“The Harvest is cancelled,” Leo said, his voice overlapping with Liam’s in that strange, haunting harmony that we had heard in the depths of Selene.​“The seed has chang

The border between the Eastern Region and the Red Wasteland was not a line on a map; it was a physical scar on the earth, a place where the green world died and the dust took over. As our caravan of salvaged Aegis transports and armored trucks lurched across the salt flats, the world turned from the charred black of the Estate to a searing, rusted orange. The sun here didn't just shine; it judged. It beat down on the metal roofs of the vehicles until the air inside was a shimmering haze of heat and recycled oxygen.​I sat in the lead transport, my fingers tracing the edges of the mercury jar I carried in my lap. The liquid metal inside had stopped forming maps and had settled into a rhythmic, terrifying pulse—a heartbeat for a creature that shouldn't exist in our dimension.​“The cooling systems are at eighty percent,” Kael reported from the driver’s seat. He was wearing a sleeveless vest, and I could see the silver-chrome wires in his arms glowing a faint, angry blue under the strain

The Lithic-Wolves didn’t growl or snap their jaws like the wolves of the North. Instead, they emitted a low-frequency hum that made the very bones of the canyon vibrate in sympathy. As we stepped onto the floor of the Maw, the creatures began to circle us, their jagged, quartz-covered paws clicking rhythmically against the basalt floor like a thousand ticking clocks.​“Don’t fire,” I commanded the Reclaimed wolves, my voice low but absolute. “If we spill a single drop of blood in this place, the Node will lock us out forever. This is a sanctuary, not a battlefield.”​“Elara, they’re closing in,” Killian said, his body tensing as a massive Lithic-Alpha—a beast the size of a small van with fur made of blood-red crystal—stepped into our path. Its eyes were twin suns of blue fire, and its breath came out as a puff of diamond dust that sparkled in the dim light.​I stepped forward, leaving the safety of the circle and the protection of Killian’s side. I removed my boots, feeling the ancien

We emerged from the shifting obsidian pyramid to find the canyon in a state of high, frantic alert. The Lithic-Wolves had shifted their positions from their meditative circle, their massive, crystalline heads turned toward the sky in a silent, terrifying vigil. The sandstorm that had threatened to bury our caravan had cleared completely, but the stars above were no longer static points of light. They were moving, shifting into a complex geometric pattern that resembled a giant, glowing eye watching the world from the dark void. It was as if the universe itself had turned its gaze toward the Red Wasteland, and it didn't like what it saw.​“We have to move, now!” Killian shouted, meeting us at the base of the pyramid steps. He was covered in a fine layer of red dust, his eyes darting to the ridge above. “Kael’s scouts spotted Aegis remnants on the southern ridge. They aren't attacking us, Elara; they’re retreating in a state of total, blind panic. They’ve seen the sky, and they know the

The subway tunnels of Aethelgard were a subterranean world unto themselves—a damp, dark echo of the shiny, neon-soaked city that lived above. We moved in a single, silent file, our footsteps silenced by tactical gear and the heavy, humid air of the tunnels. The Reclaimed wolves followed in the rear, their chrome grafts glinting like cold stars in the dim light of the emergency lamps. They were restless, their primal instincts warring with the technological dampening of the city; the "Dead Zone" was already starting to sap their energy, making their movements sluggish and their breathing heavy with the weight of the suppression.​"The air is changing," Killian whispered, his hand resting firmly on my shoulder as we rounded a bend in the rusted tracks. "It tastes like iron, old electricity, and something... rotting. It's the smell of a machine that's been running too long without oil."​"We're crossing the threshold of the Vane perimeter," Aris warned, her voice hushed. "In ten meters,