Queen Luna: Once Rejected, Now Ruthless
I stepped forward, beside Edric, the King of the Highlands, who stood tall and proud in his royal armor—midnight steel with silver pauldrons, the Highland crest blazing over his chest like a war cry.
I wore black.
No crown. No armor.
Just black robes laced with threads of silver moonlight, the fabric whispering against stone like a warning. Across my collarbone glowed the mark of the Moon Queen—once a soft shimmer, now alive with raw power, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat beneath my skin.
And when I entered, silence fell.
The kind of silence that says: Something has changed.
Something unstoppable is in the room.
They stared. Oh, they stared.
Bab Populer