All Chapters of The Last Blackblood Luna: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Chapter 21: Into the Shadows Nadia's POVThe deeper we went under the Citadel, the air just got heavier. Upstairs, everything smelled like polished marble and beeswax—now it was all damp slate, old dust, and that sharp cold-iron smell that made my eyes water. Down in these catacombs, the torches barely kept the darkness at bay. Shadows stretched and twisted across the ceiling.My skin started to tingle, as if I’d brushed against nettles. Lyra hadn’t been kidding. The walls down here had veins of cold-iron and traces of silver—intentional, cruel. It tamped down the blood-fire in purebloods and made any Lycan shift feel like slogging through mud.I kept my hand near my hunting knife, focusing on the steady thump of Lyra’s boots in front of me. That beat was all that kept me level.“You feel it?” Lyra’s voice barely carried over his shoulder. He sounded more concerned than curious.“Feels like thick mud in my veins,” I bit out, flexing my gloved fingers, trying to fight the numbness. “

Chapter 23: The Shattered AssemblyNadia’s POVDawn hit the High Citadel all wrong. No gold, no gentle light—just a sharp, blood-red glare bleeding through the Council Chamber’s tall glass. The place felt packed, as if half the upper wards had spilt into these stone walls overnight. After the midnight raid on the Inquisition catacombs, the news spread like fire. Every regional lord, duke, and faction leader crowded those tall-backed chairs, eyes locked on Lord Vane's empty seat.At the table’s head, Lady Corinna sat alone. Hair perfect, velvet so dark it almost blended with the shadows, pearls tight along her braids—nobody could miss how she tried to hold it together. But her hands said otherwise, lying flat and pale on the wood as the double doors swung open.Lyra and I stepped in together. We still wore those scarred doublets, not bothering to brush off the black dust or clean the thin streaks of soot. Behind us, General Valerius brought up the rear, arms full of the three leather-b

Chapter 25: The Crescent CrownNadia’s POVDown in the Grand Plaza, torches shimmered like fallen stars scattered beneath the full moon. The noise rolled up the mountainside—a tidal wave of voices that rattled the stone floor under my feet, even here in the dressing chamber. Banners of deep navy and gold replaced the black wool that had cloaked these halls for so many years.I faced the mirror, trying to breathe slow and steady, willing my heart to calm down. My ceremonial gown felt as heavy as armor—dark violet silk, trimmed with silver breastplate over my ribs. No more ragged leather wrappings on my wrists. Now, silver gauntlets hugged my arms, sharp with runes from the Blackblood line.Behind me, the oak door scraped open.I caught Lyra’s reflection first. He looked every inch the king: sharp silver armor, midnight velvet draped over his shoulders, broadsword at his side. Someone had smoothed his dark hair back, but nothing could tame those eyes—a flash of gold, burning fiercer tha

Chapter 27: Soot and SteelNadia’s POVThe stone flue squeezed my shoulders, scraping them raw as I climbed. Soot thickened the air, clogging my lungs with the heavy smell of old ash and burnt charcoal—every breath stung. Lyra slipped ahead, somehow moving quietly, though the shaft barely fit his shoulders.Above us, the great bell wouldn’t stop. CLANG. CLANG. Each blow made the whole chimney shudder. I felt every vibration in my teeth.“Hold,” Lyra whispered, voice rough and barely there. The word vanished into the darkness.I froze, hand braced on the coarse stone. My veins felt hot now—the cold-iron sluggishness from the catacombs was gone, burned away, and all that was left was the thrum of pureblood magic just under my skin.Voices drifted through an iron grate up ahead. Boots thudded above; torchlight flickered through grime.“…lock the east corridor!” barked someone—angry, sure of himself. “Lady Corinna’s orders! No one leaves the upper floor without the High Secretariat’s wax

Chapter 29: The Midnight Ride Nadia's POV The frigid night air from the highlands struck me in the side as we galloped our mounts through the open iron portcullis of the Citadel's outer ward. Flickering torches in the valley below painted the land like a carpet of ember dust, unaware of the silent coup taking place inside the high walls of the fortress. The isolation bells had finally died down, and the only sound left was the thunderous clatter of iron hoofs upon the frosted cobblestones. Beside me, Lyra sat astride a huge, dark-coated warhorse, a shadow-stallion of northern mountain stock. The stallion's heavy crimson cloak billowed out behind him like a banner of dried blood, reflecting in the silver moonlight. Ancient rage radiated off of him through our mate bond, so thick I could taste it on the back of my tongue, metallic and sharp. "How far is the Red Gorge?" I called out over the howling wind, leaning low against the bay mare's neck to stay balanced as we rounded a s