Chapter 144

Chapter 144: Chapter 144

The evening celebration had begun, and the central square of the Palace City was bathed in the golden glow of a thousand lanterns. The full moon hung low in the sky, vast and silver, watching over the festival like a silent goddess. Music filled the air—drums and flutes and the lilting voices of temple choirs. The crowd was enormous, tens of thousands of people from every corner of the realm, their faces bright with joy and anticipation.

And at the center of it all, the royal platform gleamed like a stage.

King Aldric Thornridge rose from his throne, his crimson robes flowing around him, his stern face composed. The crowd fell silent as he raised his hand.

"People of the Seven Packs," he began, his voice carrying across the square. "Tonight, we celebrate not only the blessings of the Moon Goddess, but also the return of my son, Crown Prince Soren Thornridge. And we have another announcement to make—one that will shape the future of our realm."

He paused, letting the anticipation build.

"It is my great honor to announce the formal engagement of my son, Crown Prince Soren, to Lady Selene of the Silverwood pack. Their betrothal will be sealed before the realm, uniting the Thornridge and Silverwood houses in a bond that will strengthen the Seven Packs for generations to come."

The crowd erupted in cheers. Selene, standing beside Soren on the platform, smiled radiantly, her amber eyes gleaming with triumph. She reached for Soren’s hand, and he let her take it, though his grip was loose, his expression distant.

In the crowd, hidden among the masses, Nyra Astrlyn felt her heart shatter.

She gripped Corvin’s arm so tightly her knuckles went white. He steadied her, his hand covering hers, his voice low in her ear. "Breathe. Just breathe."

But she couldn’t breathe. The man she loved was standing on that platform, holding another woman’s hand, announcing to the world that he belonged to someone else. And he didn’t even remember her.

I can’t do this, she thought. I can’t watch this.

You can, Luna said, her voice strained. You’re the Daughter of the Moon. You’ve survived worse than a broken heart.

Have I?

In the dark chamber beneath the city, Morgath’s ritual had begun.

The black candles flickered. The runes pulsed with sickly light. The apprentices chanted in low, rhythmic voices, their dark robes billowing as the energies rose around them. At the center of it all, Morgath stood before the stone altar, her arms raised, her ancient voice weaving the binding spell.

Per l’oscurità della luna e il sangue della stirpe,

io invoco le ombre a legare ciò che è tuo.

Il potere che scorre nelle vene dell’erede

appassisca e svanisca,

e non risorga mai più.

The vial of Nyra’s blood glowed on the altar, pulsing with silver light that slowly, gradually, began to dim.

Morgath smiled.

It’s working, she thought. The Moonblood power is already weakening.

She redoubled her efforts, her voice rising in intensity. The apprentices echoed her chants. The candles flared brighter.

And in the square above, Nyra felt something shift.

It was subtle at first—a faint dizziness, a warmth draining from her limbs. She frowned, pressing a hand to her chest.

"What’s wrong?" Corvin asked.

"I don’t know. I feel... strange. Like something’s draining out of me."

Luna? she called in her mind. Luna, what’s happening?

I don’t know, her wolf replied, her voice faint. I feel weak. Distant. As if something is pulling at our bond.

Morgath, Nyra realized. She’s doing something. Some kind of dark magic.

She looked toward the platform, where the King was still speaking. The engagement announcement had been made. The crowd was celebrating. And somewhere beneath their feet, a witch was stripping away the only power that could protect her.

The King raised his hand for silence again.

"Tonight, we also address a matter of great importance. The investigation into the death of Prince Thorne Astrlyn has raised... questions. Questions that demand answers."

The crowd murmured. Selene’s smile faltered. Varek, seated among the pack leaders, went very still.

"Princess Nyra Astrlyn," the King called. "Step forward."

Nyra’s heart lurched. This was it. The moment she had been preparing for. The moment that would determine everything.

Corvin squeezed her hand. "You can do this. I believe in you."

She nodded, though her legs felt weak. She released his arm and began walking toward the platform. The crowd parted for her, their whispers following her every step.

I’m still losing power, she thought. I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.

Just get through this, Luna urged. We’ll deal with Morgath later.

Nyra climbed the steps to the platform and faced the King. The Queen watched from her throne, her expression unreadable. Soren stood at the edge of the platform, his golden eyes fixed on Nyra with a mixture of suspicion and something else—something that looked almost like concern. Selene’s grip on his arm tightened.

"Princess Nyra," the King said. "You have been accused of murdering your brother, Prince Thorne Astrlyn. You have claimed innocence. Tonight, we will hear the evidence."

The questioning began.

It was intense and relentless. The King’s advisors, led by Lord Eldritch, presented their findings. The forged letter. The questionable testimony of the maid. The inconsistencies in the timeline. Nyra answered every question with as much composure as she could muster, her voice steady despite the weakness spreading through her body.

She had gathered intelligence. She had prepared for this. Corvin and the others had spent weeks finding evidence, locating witnesses, building a case. And gradually, inch by inch, the tide began to turn.

"The letter was forged," Lord Eldritch announced. "I have verified this beyond any doubt."

"The poison used to kill Prince Thorne was a rare toxin from the Shadowwood," another advisor added. "A toxin that Princess Nyra had no access to. But which Lord Varek, through his connections, most certainly did."

The crowd gasped. Varek’s face went pale. He opened his mouth to protest, but the King silenced him with a look.

"The evidence is compelling," the King said slowly. "But before I render judgment—"

A commotion at the edge of the square interrupted him.

The seer had arrived.

She was ancient and weathered, her white hair wild, her milky eyes fixed on some point beyond the material world. Her staff clicked against the stone as she moved through the crowd, her assistant Ilara trailing behind her. The people parted for her like water before a blade.

"The seer," someone whispered. "The seer is here."

She approached the platform and stopped. For a long moment, she simply stood there, her blind eyes seeming to see everything. Then, slowly, she bowed to Nyra.

"Your Highness," she said, her voice carrying across the silent square. "I have been sent by the Moon Goddess herself."

The crowd erupted in whispers. The King leaned forward on his throne.

"Sent for what purpose?" he demanded.

The seer straightened. Her voice rose, loud and clear. "I have seen a vision. A terrible vision of the destruction that will come if the Daughter of the Moon is harmed. The realm will fall. The Lycan prince will be consumed by grief. The Seven Packs will be torn apart by war and darkness. But if she lives—if she is protected—the realm will know peace and prosperity for generations."

The words hung in the air like a prophecy made manifest. The crowd was absolutely silent.

And then the arrow came.

It flew from somewhere in the shadows—a single shaft, aimed directly at Nyra’s heart. Time seemed to slow. Nyra saw it coming, and something inside her—some deep, primal instinct—responded. She turned toward the arrow and raised her hand.

"Per la luce della luna e il sangue della stirpe, comando a quest’arma di arrestare il suo volo".

The arrow stopped in mid-air, inches from her chest.

The crowd gasped. The King rose to his feet. Soren’s eyes went wide.

And then the headache struck.

It was sudden and blinding—a spike of agony that drove Soren to his knees. Fragments of memory crashed through his skull like shards of glass. Silver hair. Moonlight eyes. A voice calling him "my wolf." The feel of her body in his arms. The taste of her lips. The night in the hut. The kiss in the lake. The words he had whispered in the garden.

I love you. I love you so much.

He cried out, clutching his head, his golden eyes blazing with pain and confusion.

Nyra heard him cry out, but she couldn’t look. She was still holding the arrow suspended, her power flickering. Luna, I’m losing it, she thought desperately. The arrow—I can’t hold it—

I know, Luna gasped. Morgath’s ritual is draining us. We’re getting weaker by the second.

The seer, seeing what was happening, immediately began chanting.

Per la luce della luna e il fuoco del sangue,

io invoco il potere antico che dorme nella stirpe.

Scorri in Nyra, forza nascosta,

cresci in Nyra, volontà di ferro.

Nyra dominio, Nyra vigore,

che la sua mano e la sua mente

diventino poteri invincibili.

Her ancient voice rose in a counter-spell, trying to bolster Nyra’s fading power. But it wasn’t enough.

Nyra’s power flickered.

And then it stopped entirely.

The arrow, released from her control, shot forward and pierced her heart.

The world stopped.

Soren screamed.

"NYRA!"

The name tore from his throat with a force that shook the entire square. It was a scream of pure, primal agony—the scream of a man who had just remembered everything and realized he was about to lose it all over again.

The crowd fell into chaos. People screamed. Guards scrambled. Varek’s soldiers moved through the masses, trying to escape.

Corvin was already running toward the platform, his face white with terror. Ragnar, Roderic, Finn, Marek, Jasper—they were all pushing through the crowd, desperate to reach her.

But Soren reached her first.

He caught her as she fell, lowering her gently to the ground. Blood soaked through her tunic, spreading across her chest like a crimson flower. Her silver eyes fluttered open, and when she saw his face, she smiled.

"You remember me now," she whispered. "You shouted my name."

"I remember everything." Tears streamed down his face. "I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t remember sooner. I’m so sorry for everything—the things I said, the things I did—I’m so sorry, Nyra. Please. Please stay with me."

She reached up and touched his cheek. Her fingers were cold. "It’s not your fault. The poison... the memories... it wasn’t you."

"It was. I should have fought harder. I should have remembered."

"You remember now. That’s what matters." She coughed, and blood flecked her lips. "I love you, Soren. I’ve always loved you."

"I love you too." He pressed his forehead to hers. "More than anything in this world. Please don’t leave me. Please."

Corvin reached them then, dropping to his knees beside Nyra. His face was a mask of anguish. "Nyra. Nyra, look at me. Stay with me. We’ll get you to a healer—"

"It’s too late." Her voice was barely a whisper now. "I can feel it. The arrow... it went through my heart."

"No. No, we can fix this. We have potions. We have healers—"

She turned to him, her eyes soft. "Corvin. Thank you. For everything. For being my friend when I had no one. For believing in me when I didn’t believe in myself." She touched his hand. "Maybe... maybe this is for the best. Maybe I can finally rest."

"Don’t say that." Corvin’s voice cracked. "Don’t you dare say that."

But Nyra’s eyes were already growing distant. She looked at Soren one last time, her gaze filled with all the love she had never been able to express.

"I’m glad... I’m glad you remember me," she whispered. "I’m glad I got to see you... one last time."

Her body began to fade.

"What’s happening?" Soren shouted, his voice raw with panic. "What’s happening to her?!"

The seer stood over them, tears streaming down her ancient face. "It is finished," she said, her voice hollow. "The Moonblood line is ending. The goddess is calling her daughter home."

"No!" Soren clutched Nyra tighter, as if he could hold her to this world by sheer force of will. "No, you can’t take her! She’s mine! She’s my mate! Bring her back!"

But Nyra was fading—her body becoming translucent, silver light shimmering around her like a thousand tiny stars. She smiled at Soren, a gentle, peaceful smile.

"It’s okay," she said. "I’ll be with the Moon Goddess now. I’ll watch over you. Both of you."

"Nyra—"

"I love you, Soren. I love you, Corvin. Take care of each other."

And then she was gone.

A cloud of butterflies—silver and gold and shimmering white—rose from where her body had been, ascending into the night sky like a prayer. They circled once, twice, and then disappeared into the moonlight.

The square was absolutely silent.

Soren sat on the ground, staring at the empty space where Nyra had been. His arms were still outstretched, still cradling a body that no longer existed. His golden eyes were empty. His face was blank.

He had never felt so defeated in his entire life. So confused. So utterly and completely broken.

Corvin stood nearby, his face streaked with tears. He looked at Soren with a mixture of grief and fury.

"This is your fault," he said, his voice shaking. "If you had remembered sooner—if you had listened to us instead of her—"

Soren didn’t respond. He couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come.

The realm had just witnessed the death of the Moonblood heir. The woman Soren loved had faded into nothingness, taken by an arrow meant for her heart. And the only thing he could think was that he would never again hear her voice, never again see her smile, never again hold her in his arms.

He had lost her. And this time, there was no coming back.