All Chapters of Dagger of the Blood Moon: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Liora POV​The dawn trek to Shadow Ridge’s grove is gruelling.​The mist-cloaked forest seems to actively resent our intrusion. The air is thick and cloying, heavy with the damp rot of fallen leaves and the faint, electric hum of ancient, corrupted magic that prickles my skin like a thousand invisible thorns. Every single step is a battle against the land’s living malice. The path is unforgiving; gnarled roots twist from the earth like the skeletal claws of buried beasts, snagging at my boots and threatening to yank me under with every laboured breath. The ground is slick with dew that quickly soaks through my pants, chilling my legs to the bone and turning the soil into a treacherous mire that sucks at my heels with greedy slurps.​Poisonous vines slither almost imperceptibly from the underbrush, their broad leaves tipped with thorns that drip a viscous, green sap. One grazes my forearm, tearing the fabric of my jacket and biting into my skin. It burns like battery acid. I hiss throu

Liora POVThe ambush hits us like an avalanche of teeth and shadow.​Kai shifts mid-stride, his bones snapping seamlessly as Atlas roars to life. His silver-tipped black fur ripples as he launches himself like a missile, tackling the first rogue. Blood sprays across the mossy ground in a dark arc as Atlas’s jaws close, his thunderous growl vibrating through the pack link—an Alpha command that physically shakes the air.​Dax is right behind him, Rune a blur of storm-grey fur. He tears into a rogue’s flank with a savage snarl, his scent flaring with pure, protective fury. Beside him, Kael’s wolf, Veyra, dodges a silver claw with breathtaking rogue grace. She rips into another attacker, her movements fluid and lethal, syncing perfectly with Dax even as his panicked voice cracks through the link: “Stay out of my way, rogue girl!” He immediately covers her blind spot anyway, their mate bond a flawless, deadly dance of fire and instinct.​Mara and Torin cut down two rogues at our flank. Mar

Casian POVThe forest beyond Blood Moon’s borders is a labyrinth of thorns and whispers.​The ancient trees twist like lovers in eternal agony, their branches interlaced to form a suffocating canopy that blots out the stars. Only razor-thin slivers of moonlight manage to pierce the gloom, guiding my path. The air is thick with the cloying sweetness of night-blooming jasmine, laced heavily with the metallic tang of iron-rich soil. It is a scent that clings to my cloak like a betrayal, barely masking the lingering, lavender ghost of Elvira’s perfume on my skin from our last clandestine meeting.​The stolen medallion weighs heavy in my palm.​Its silver surface, etched with the crescent moon cradling a star, glows with a faint, sickly green light. It pulses like a dying heart, the artifact warm against my flesh, humming with the stolen power of Shadow Ridge’s lost altar.​The rune, I think, a bitter smirk curling my lips.​The fae’s compulsion tugs at the edges of my mind. It feels like

Elvira POVThe grove ambush was my masterpiece.​The tip was whispered to Cassian’s scout through a council contact I have cultivated for years—a delightful little thorn in their side. The medallion’s exact location was plucked effortlessly from overheard whispers in Kai’s study. A few pieces of Liora’s ridiculous visions, a rogue’s childhood memory of a crescent cradling a star, and the trap was perfectly set.​They crashed into that grove exactly as I orchestrated. Like the Beast’s hunger made flesh. Silver claws flashing in the morning light, ripping their precious unity to shreds. Mara’s agonised yelp was a symphony of discord that fractured their arrogant trust, allowing Cassian’s men to snatch the rune right out from under them.​My doing. I savour the thought, a dark, wicked thrill coiling hot in my belly. My mate bond to Cassian flares with that twisted, familiar fire. I can almost smell his smoke-and-iron scent, pulling at me across the miles like beautiful, venomous thorns i

Cassian POV​The scout’s final report slithers through our compelled link like a dying serpent in the underbrush.​His mental voice is a ragged, wet gasp in my mind. The cold thread of fae compulsion that binds him to me pulls taut, then violently snaps as his heart stops beating. But before the dark fully takes him, he sends a chaotic flash of memories through the runes I etched into his palm two nights ago.​I see her through his dying eyes. The heir.​She shifted. It was partial, wild, and agonising. Auburn fur and claws like wicked silver thorns. But she held it back. The serum’s cage cracked under the witch-powder, but it did not shatter. The dagger’s blinding light anchored her against the poison.​I pace the perimeter of the fae enclave’s hollow, the luminescent moss underfoot blackening into ash with my fury. The ancient oaks’ roots twist like veins pulsing with my own rage. The cavern air is thick with cloying jasmine and the acrid burn of nightshade incense that Lirien burns