Todos los capítulos de The Luna’s Faith: Capítulo 31 - Capítulo 40

Olivia's POVThe idea came to me fully formed in the quiet hour before dawn.I sat at the small writing desk in my room with a blank sheet of paper in front of me, and the connecting doors open to the soft sound of Dorian moving around in his own rooms. The pressure campaign against Vanessa kept tightening its grip. But Cyrus was a separate wound — kept inside, asking questions, still breathing inside the pack house where I once tried to build a life. He'd only gotten pieces of the truth through rumors and gossip from the ball. I decided it was time he got something clearer.Three words. Nothing more.I wrote them in a plain, ordinary hand that could have belonged to anyone:She lives.No signature. No seal. No explanation. Just the one fact he'd been denied since the night the guards carried my body toward the gates. I wanted the words to reach him with no softening, no context, and no elders managing his reaction for him. Let him sit with the bare truth. Let the guilt and the leftov

Olivia's POVThe private courtyard still held the day's heat even after the sun had dropped behind the palace walls.I stood in the middle of the packed dirt with my sleeves rolled up to my elbows, the Celestial power already stirring under my skin. Dorian circled me at a steady distance, watching how the light gathered and spread along my arms. We had gone back to formal training after days of pure strategy and pressure work. The Goddess's bond demanded it — the light grew restless if it went too long without real use, and we'd both felt the edge of that restlessness over the last two nights."Again," he said. "Slower on the rise. You're still letting the day's emotions feed the first surge."I took a breath and called the power more carefully. Silver light bloomed across my palms and climbed in controlled bands toward my elbows. It no longer left me shaking the way it did in the early sessions, but it still took total focus. One slip in concentration and the light tried to jump outw

Olivia's POVThe portrait arrived inside a plain courier packet that Dexter's people had caught and rerouted.I found it on the sitting room table late in the afternoon, set apart from the usual stack of eastern reports. No formal seal. No message, other than a single line in Dexter's quick handwriting: Smuggled out of the Black Dynasty pack house. Source confirmed reliable. Under the note was a small, unframed drawing, done in quick, skilled strokes of charcoal and light wash. Someone inside the pack had taken the risk of sketching Cyrus's current face and sending it into the capital's shadow network.I stood over the table for a long time before I touched it.When I finally picked up the portrait, the man looking back at me was both familiar and wrecked. His bone structure was the same — the same lines I'd once traced with my fingertips in the quiet hours before sleep. But everything else had changed. The hollows under his eyes were deeper. The mouth that used to smile with easy con

Dorian's POVThe report from the Black Dynasty pack house arrived just after the evening meal, carried by one of Dexter's most trusted go-betweens, written in the tight, plain style that meant the news was worse than the length suggested.I read it once in silence, then again more slowly. Olivia sat across the table, waiting. Cassian stood near the window with his arms crossed, already bracing for whatever new crack the eastern lands had produced. The Celestial light under Olivia's skin glowed low and steady — the leftover effect of the surge the night before, and the decision she'd made about the bond. I felt it through the bond the way I now felt most changes in her: directly, without needing to look up."Cyrus has started talking to empty rooms," I said. The words came out flatter than I meant them to. "He calls her name at all hours. The elders have tried to keep it quiet, but the household staff are talking. He won't eat most meals. He won't discuss pack business. When they force

Dorian's POVThe sound that came through the connecting doors wasn't a full scream.It was the choked, broken edge of one — the kind that belongs to someone fighting free of a memory, not a real threat. I was on my feet before the second sound came, the bond already stretched tight with the sharp spike of her distress. The Celestial light on the other side of the doors flared in wild, panicked pulses I could feel against my own ribs.I crossed the doorway without knocking.Olivia was tangled in the sheets, half sitting up, one hand clawing at her bare wrist like the silver bracelet was still there and could be torn off again. Her eyes were open but not focused, locked onto whatever the nightmare was replaying. Silver light spilled from her skin in shaky waves, throwing wild shadows across the room. The air smelled like ozone and old fear."Olivia."Her name cut through the fog enough that she turned her head. She wasn't fully awake. Her hand left her wrist and reached out — blind, des