Chapter 22
Jul 18, 2025
Vaela’s blade caught torchlight as she advanced, her face transformed by cold purpose. “You want the truth about bloodlines? I am the last daughter of the first Alpha King. My ancestors built this kingdom on Luna bones, and I will not watch you tear it down.”
“The first Alpha King was a butcher,” the Oracle spat. “He murdered the Moon Queens to steal their power.”
“He brought order to chaos.” Vaela’s sword swept in a deadly arc. “And I will finish what he started.”
She lunged at me, but Hector intercepted the strike. Steel rang against steel as their blades locked.
“You cannot win,” Vaela hissed. “The Elders have already prepared for your rebellion. Every Luna-marked girl in the kingdom will be executed by sunrise.”
“Then we stop you now,” I snarled, grabbing a ceremonial dagger from the altar.
The vault erupted into violence. Vaela fought like a demon, her blade dancing between Hector and me with lethal precision. She caught Sariah across the ribs, sending her crashing into the shelves with a cry of pain.
“Sariah!” I screamed, but couldn’t reach her.
Hector roared and pressed his attack, driving Vaela back against the stone wall. I circled behind her, dagger raised.
“Yield,” he commanded, his sword at her throat.
She smiled, blood trickling from her split lip. “Too late. The signal crystal in my armor activated the moment you drew weapons. The Elders know exactly where you are.”
Above us, the sound of marching feet echoed through the tunnels.
“Move!” Hector grabbed my arm, hauling me toward a hidden passage the Oracle revealed.
We dragged Sariah between us, her blood leaving a trail on ancient stones. Behind us, Vaela’s laughter followed like a curse.
“You cannot hide forever, Luna witch. We will find you. We will end you.”
The passage collapsed behind us, but her words burned in my ears.
We emerged in the ruins of an abandoned tower, Sariah barely conscious between us. Her wound bled freely, soaking through makeshift bandages.
“I need to get her to the safe house,” I said, pressing cloth against the gash.
“Go,” Hector commanded. “I’ll create a distraction, lead them away from—”
“No.” Sariah’s voice was weak but fierce. “You stay together. The resistance has protocols for this.”
She pressed a silver whistle into my palm. “Three short blasts. They’ll come for me.”
I hesitated, torn between loyalty and survival.
“Go,” she whispered. “Save the bloodline. Save us all.”
The whistle’s call echoed across the ruins. Within moments, shadows detached themselves from the darkness—resistance fighters who lifted Sariah like precious cargo and vanished into the night.
Hector led me to a chamber carved into the tower’s base, hidden behind illusions that shimmered like heat waves. His hands shook as he lit a single candle, the flame dancing against stone walls.
“Let me see,” he said, gesturing to the cut on my shoulder where Vaela’s blade had found its mark.
I pulled away the torn fabric, revealing the wound. His fingers traced the edges, feather-light, and my skin began to glow—soft silver light that pulsed with each beat of my heart.
“Every time I touch you,” he whispered, his voice rough with restraint, “every time I say no to you, it kills me.”
The words hit like lightning. I turned in his arms, our faces inches apart.
“Then say yes.”
His breath caught. For a heartbeat, the world held its breath.
“Lyssira—”
I silenced him with a kiss. Soft at first, then hungry, desperate, months of denied want pouring between us. His hands tangled in my hair, pulling me closer until no space existed between us.
Then he pulled away, shaking.
“Not like this,” he said, his voice breaking. “Not because we might die tomorrow. Not because we’re afraid and wounded and running for our lives.”
The rejection cut deeper than Vaela’s blade, but I saw the truth in his eyes—the same desperate love that burned in my chest.
I lifted his hand to my lips, kissing the palm where his pulse hammered against my mouth.
“Then survive with me,” I whispered against his skin.
His fingers closed around mine, holding tight.
Dawn brought the Oracle’s voice echoing across the kingdom through every scrying glass, every communication crystal, every magical mirror in the realm.
“The Luna Bride Games are ended,” she declared, her ancient voice carrying the weight of prophecy. “But one trial remains—not of obedience or sacrifice, but of will itself.”
The image shifted to show the sacred flame burning higher than ever before, its fire now tinged with silver and gold.
“The Trial of Fire. Let any who would claim the Luna crown step forward. Step through the sacred flame and prove your worth. Survive, and the crown is yours. Fail…”
The flame roared, consuming a wooden dummy in seconds.
“Fail, and be consumed entirely.”
