All Chapters of The Vow that Broke the Moon : Chapter 21 - Chapter 28

 Nyx needed to get into the restricted archive before Corvus's curiosity led him to independently research Skinwalkers. The old scholar had no malice—she'd seen that clearly in the way his eyes lit up when he spoke of ancient texts, in the reverence with which he handled the blood-stained book hidden in the walls. He was driven by pure academic hunger, the kind that made scholars forget that knowledge could be dangerous. But curiosity in the wrong hands was as dangerous as a blade, and Corvus was already asking questions that could get them both killed. She'd spent the morning after their discovery in the restricted section watching him from a distance, cataloging his movements. He'd been unusually animated, muttering to himself as he cross-referenced texts, his spectacles slipping down his nose as he scribbled notes in a leather-bound journal. He was piecing together fragments, trying to understand the gaps in the archive

  The patrol returned at dusk, their formation ragged, their faces grim with exhaustion and something else—something that made Nyx's stomach clench with foreboding before she'd even heard the report. Caelan led the group, his expression carved from stone, his body language radiating controlled fury. Behind him came Ronan, the young warrior's face pale beneath its usual tan, his left arm wrapped in a blood-soaked bandage. And behind Ronan, four more warriors—two being supported by their comrades, one being carried on a makeshift stretcher, the fourth walking with a limp that suggested broken bones. Nyx met them at the fortress gates, her heart pounding, her senses already reaching through the tether to feel what Caelan had experienced. Through their connection, she caught fragments—terror, confusion, a wrongness that defied description. "What happened?" she demanded, falling int

  The war council convened in the great hall of the fortress, the ancient stones absorbing the tension that crackled through the air like static before a storm. Caelan sat at the head of the table, his presence commanding, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion and suspicion. Kira stood at his right, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable. Around them, the pack's senior warriors and advisors had gathered, their faces a mixture of fear and determination. Nyx entered last, her footsteps silent on the worn stone floor. She'd spent the night on the eastern watchtower, watching the moon sink toward the horizon, planning her departure. But Caelan had found her before she could slip away, his grip on her arm firm and unyielding. You were going to leave, he'd said, and through the tether she'd felt his hurt, his betrayal, his fierce determination to keep her safe. I was going to protect you, she'd repli

  Nyx couldn't sleep. The drawing of the Skinwalker from Corvus's research haunted her—a crude sketch rendered in brown ink that had faded to sepia over centuries. The figure was hunched, its limbs too long, its face a featureless void with hollow eyes that seemed to follow her even when she turned away. Abomination had been scratched beneath it in a spidery hand, the word carved into the parchment with enough pressure to leave grooves. Someone had watched the genocide of her kind and chosen that word. Someone had documented their destruction with clinical precision and called them abominations. She paced the dark corridors of the fortress, her bare feet silent on the cold stone. The pack was asleep, their dreams filtering through the bond like distant music. Caelan slept in their chambers, his presence warm and steady through the tether, a lifeline in the darkness. But sleep wouldn't come