Moonlight Sculptor Volume 18 Novels & Stories

Three nights later, it’s clear: this convocation won’t be like the old ones. The moon should be shrinking by now. Nope. It hangs there, swollen and blazing over the trees, pouring down so much silver light it almost feels like you could catch it on your tongue. The elders notice. The healers notice. And the wolves—oh, the wolves feel it in their bones. The land leans in. Not to greet us. More like it’s bracing itself, waiting for something to break loose.

The artistic style is unmistakable, executed by the Silvermoon Muse, an anonymous rogue painter whose street murals across the Silvermoon Capital Jone had defended for winters. Jone sinks onto the furs of his low bench, opening the heavy pages as his heart slams against his ribs. The inner parchment contains vivid depictions of them sharing flasks at the Crescent Moon Lodge during their early truce, surrounded by winter roses. Jone remembers that specific solstice night with brutal clarity, back when their only warfare consisted of petty border raids and stealing hunting contracts from each other's vards. He turns the page, his eyes dilating as he reads the opening inscription: To the master

“Feel Serena, feel the pull of the moon. It’s in your blood, older than any pack.” I paused, and held my breath. Every new action on Serena’s part was faster, more decisive, and then—there was a bright flash from her, a burst of lunar energy that surged through the clearing. The warriors stood stock still, huge-eyed, as the gleam blazed through the black gulf of night. Serena gasped, stepped back and her sleeve fell back as well on her arm. It was there, on her skin, a mark. A swirling, crescent-shaped scar that glowed dimly, just like the one cut deep into the rogue’s tree.

Our order arrived quickly, and we chatted at the café’s booth. “Okay, back on the topic. What makes the moonlight so important in this process?” I restarted our conversation before sipping my brewed coffee. “It serves the balance of the Monte Cruz blood manipulation ability. It gives assurance of success since the Moonlight technique was a guide for blood manipulation till it wasn’t needed anymore. In the case of my grandmother Kathalina, the reason she could not finish it was not only because of the issues around the Orlok but also because of losing her mate. It affected the process, making her stop exceeding its limit.” She explained to me before taking a couple of sips from her latte.

I ask, and I find my voice has come out as almost a whisper. "I didn't mean to startle you," he says, and I see his eyes flicker over my body, even in the half-dark. "I just thought you might want to know it's not a full moon yet. In case that's important for your shot." His voice is low, almost a growl and it sends a tingle up my spine. "Oh thanks," I murmur, an inexplicable thrill racing through my body as I gaze at him. "But it's a series I'm working on - the title is Incomplete." At this I see a wry smile break out on his face.

What caught my attention the most was the colour of her eyes, they were grey like mine but they shined like a full moon. "I am Selene." Was what she started with. "And I have come to tell you something." "Which is?" I asked, even though I did not want to hear what it was. This whole thing felt weird. I was not sure if I was dreaming, or somehow in another realm. But I did not want to ignore her. She did not even look like somebody I could ignore. "What you were looking at..." She gestured towards where I saw myself holding Marcello. "It was a glimpse of your future."

“We… we need to know. Our daughter… She’s been… involved with the Moonlit pack. And we need to know…” The Oracle regarded them with a knowing look, as if she could see straight into their minds. “Ah, I see.”, she said softly. “Yes, I have sensed the stirrings of destiny surrounding your daughter. There is indeed a connection between her and the Moonlit pack, a bond that transcends time and space.” Elio and Leonora exchanged stunned glances, their hearts pounding with a mixture of fear and disbelief. “But… what does it mean?”, Elio asked, his voice trembling with emotion.

I nodded my head in agreement. "Kate bought it," I explain. The mobile was breathtaking really, made completely out of metal and wood, with little moon and star shapes hanging from it. It had little diamonds embedded in the shapes, so that everytime it spun, it twinkled brightly. "It's really beautiful," Cassie says, "And I bet expensive as well." I turn to her in surprise when I hear an almost depressed tone to her voice. "What's wrong?" I ask, my eyebrow raising as I took in Cassie’s slumped shoulders. She shrugs and forces a smile on her face.

“But I won’t condemn him without proof either.” Liam turns toward me. “And if proof comes too late?” The question cuts deeper than he knows. “Then I’ll carry that weight,” I reply. “Like I carry everything else.” I don’t go to the hollow that day. That decision haunts me almost immediately. Because by nightfall, the Moon does something she hasn’t done since the trial. She marks the land. Silver light bleeds through the clouds, not bright—focused. It traces lines across the territory, igniting runes long dormant, all converging toward one place.

Kane ruffled Jim’s hair approvingly, while Luke fussed over Fiona like she was made of glass, murmuring for her to rest. I stood there, invisible. They were the perfect family—warm, whole, united. And I? I was the spare part, the forgotten shadow. Not a single glance. Not a word. So I left. I walked toward Moon Lake, the place I’d begged them to take me for years. "Next summer," they’d always said, "when things are less busy." Lies. Empty promises. Now, I’d go alone. But my body betrayed me. Halfway there, my wolf gave out—her strength spent, her spirit broken. My legs buckled, and the world was spinning.