Lahat ng Kabanata ng Loving Luna : Kabanata 91 - Kabanata 100

No one said a word. The gramophone kept playing its tune. The violin's melody wove through the deserted ranger station, filling every nook and cranny with a sound that felt strangely familiar. Not because Luna had ever heard it before, but because it evoked the feeling of remembering something she'd never actually experienced. She moved closer to the record player. "It's not scratched," she observed. Kael looked up. "What isn't?" "The record. It's been taken care of." Dust coated the shelves, and cobwebs draped across broken windows, yet the gramophone itself gleamed. Someone had clearly cleaned it recently, and deliberately so. "This place isn't abandoned," Rowan murmured. "It's maintained." Darius's eyes remained fixed on the letter. "You've arrived exactly where I intended." He flipped the page over, finding it blank. Holding it up to the light revealed nothing. Then, Elara spoke softly, "The ash." Everyone turned to her. She walked towards the cold fireplace, where it was e

No one touched the remaining bundles. Even Mason, who usually couldn't resist exploring anything mysterious, stood silently by the table, as if any sudden move might disturb something precious and irreplaceable. The letters felt… sacred. Not because they were from royalty or traditionally important, but because they had survived when someone, somewhere, had clearly wanted them gone forever. Darius carefully untied the faded blue ribbon, taking his own sweet time, as if the knot itself held memories. The parchment inside had turned yellow with age, but the ink remained remarkably clear, as if preserved on purpose, not by accident. He glanced at the signature and frowned a little. "This isn't from the Storykeeper." Elara moved closer, reading over his shoulder. "No," she agreed softly. She offered a small smile, though it held no amusement. "They were written to him." Luna also leaned in, peering over Darius's shoulder. The first page began simply, without a greeting or introduction,

The room was so quiet it felt unnatural, like the air itself had paused. It wasn't that nobody had questions; it was that everyone had too many, all crowding their minds at once, unsure where to start. The note in Darius's pocket felt heavier than it should. The journal lay open, its pages exposed as if it had waited far too long to be seen again. And one forgotten name—Alaric—had begun to unravel everything they thought they understood. Rowan broke the silence first, her voice softer than usual, each word carefully chosen. "If the Storykeeper had a name... why erase only that one and leave everything else behind?" She looked to Elara, searching for a steady gaze. Elara didn't answer right away, her eyes still scanning the open journal, as if willing it to reveal something more. She turned another page with deliberate care, the paper whispering. "The easiest way to destroy an idea," she began, her finger tracing the faint ink, "is to convince people it never belonged to anyone in the

The morning arrived shrouded in a dense, lingering mist that drifted through the trees in slow, heavy waves, as if the forest itself were sighing in its sleep. The shared woods were unusually quiet, almost eerily so, with even the smallest sounds muffled before they could travel far. No violin music. No messengers. No cryptic notes left on bark or stone. The silence itself felt strange, like a presence filling a void where something familiar should have been. For the first time in days, the stranger had said nothing at all—no signal, no hint of intent. Darius found it more unsettling than he let on. An opponent who suddenly went silent was rarely inactive, and even more rarely harmless. The bishop remained precisely where it had been placed beside Alaric's journal, unmoving, as though it had claimed its spot and refused to budge. No one had touched it since. Kael had spent half the night scrutinizing it from every angle, turning it under lamplight, tapping it, even weighing it against

The violin played on, long past midnight. It was unusual, as no one followed the sound this time. For days, the music had been their guide, leading them from one clearing to the next, revealing messages and discoveries along the way. But tonight, Darius had instructed the guards to stay put. The melody drifted out of the camp, patient and inviting, yet unanswered. Eventually, the music stopped. Lucian stood by the window, listening to the sudden silence. "They expected us to follow," he murmured. Darius nodded. "They won't get that satisfaction." Lucian glanced at him. "The Tutor hated being ignored." "Good," Darius replied. "That wasn't a compliment," Lucian added. "I know," Darius answered. The young prisoner slept soundly in the room next door, with two guards stationed outside. Darius had insisted they leave their weapons at their sides. His thinking was that if the young man saw himself as a messenger, using force would only validate that belief. Luna understood the strate