Chapter 145

Chapter 145: Chapter 145

The silence in the square was absolute.

Nyra was gone. The butterflies had vanished into the moonlight. Soren sat on the ground, his arms still outstretched, cradling nothing. Corvin stood nearby, tears streaming down his face, his hands trembling at his sides. The King and Queen stared in horror. The crowd was frozen, a sea of shocked faces.

And then the seer spoke.

Her voice rose, ancient and terrible, carrying across the square like the judgment of the goddess herself. She turned toward Lord Varek, and her milky eyes blazed with righteous fury.

"TRAITOR!"

The word echoed off the stone walls, striking Varek like a physical blow. He stumbled backward, his face going pale.

"You," the seer snarled, pointing a gnarled finger at him. "You are the one who killed Prince Thorne. You poisoned your own nephew. You framed your niece for murder. You sent assassins to kill her. And tonight, you ordered the arrow that struck her down."

"Lies!" Varek shouted, but his voice cracked. "All lies!"

"The Moon Goddess sees everything. She has seen your crimes. She has witnessed your treachery. And she has judged you." The seer raised her staff. "By the power vested in me, I curse you, Lord Varek Astrlyn. I curse you with pain. With suffering. With the taste of your own medicine."

She chanted a spell in a language that predated the Seven Packs—a language of the old magic, of the Dark Coven’s ancient enemies.

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

io invoco le ombre a punire Varek.

Che il dolore che ha inflitto ritorni su di lui,

che assaggi il suo stesso veleno,

che la sofferenza lo avvolga e non lo lasci.

Così sia fatto.

The words rolled off her tongue like thunder, and the air around Varek began to shimmer and warp.

He screamed.

Blood poured from his mouth, from his eyes, from his ears. He collapsed to his knees, clawing at his throat, his body convulsing. The crowd watched in horror as the curse took hold—not killing him, but torturing him. Making him suffer. Making him feel a fraction of the pain he had inflicted on others.

The seer lowered her staff. Her face was pale and drawn, the curse having taken a toll on her as well. "You will live, Varek. You will live and suffer, as you have made others suffer. And when justice finally comes for you, it will be the Moon Goddess herself who delivers it."

Varek collapsed onto the stone, still twitching, blood pooling beneath him. His soldiers—the ones who hadn’t fled—moved to help him, but the King’s guards intercepted them.

"Take him into custody," the King ordered, his voice heavy. "He will stand trial for his crimes. And the archer who fired that arrow—" His voice hardened. "Find them. Bring them to me. Alive if possible."

The guards moved to obey. The crowd began to murmur, the shock giving way to confusion and fear. The festival, which had been a celebration of light and life only moments ago, had become a scene of death and chaos.

Soren didn’t remember leaving the square.

One moment he was sitting on the ground, staring at the empty space where Nyra had been. The next, he was in his chambers, standing before the window, looking out at the full moon.

He didn’t know how he had gotten there. He didn’t remember walking. He didn’t remember anything except the sight of Nyra fading away, her final words echoing in his mind.

I’m glad you remember me. I’m glad I got to see you one last time.

He pressed his hand against the glass. The moonlight was cold on his skin.

I remember everything, he thought. And it hurts more than the poison ever did.

Kael stirred in his mind, his voice heavy with grief. She’s not gone. The bond is still there. Faint, but unbroken.

How? I saw her fade. I saw the butterflies.

I don’t know. But I can still feel her. She’s out there somewhere. Waiting.

Soren closed his eyes. The tears came then—hot and relentless, streaming down his face. He had not cried in years. Not since he was a child. But now, in the privacy of his chambers, he let himself break.

He cried for Nyra. For the time they had lost. For the memories that had been stolen from him. For the future they would never have.

And when the tears finally stopped, he made a decision.

I’ll find you, he thought. Wherever you are—whatever realm the Moon Goddess has taken you to—I’ll find you. And I’ll bring you back. Whatever it takes.

The Queen found him an hour later.

She entered his chambers without knocking, her face pale and drawn. She had aged years in the past few hours.

"Soren." Her voice was soft, hesitant. "May I come in?"

"I’m already in."

She crossed to him and placed a hand on his arm. "I know you’re hurting. I know this is... beyond words. But I need to know you’re alright."

"I’m not alright." His voice was hollow. "I won’t be alright until I find her."

"Find her? Soren, she’s..." ℯ

"Don’t." He turned to face her, his golden eyes blazing. "Don’t say she’s dead. She’s not dead. I can feel her. The bond is still there."

The Queen stared at him. "The bond? After everything that happened?"

"It never broke. Even when I couldn’t remember her, the bond was still there. And now—" He pressed his hand to his chest. "I can feel it. She’s out there somewhere. Waiting for me."

"Soren, the seer said—"

"I don’t care what the seer said. I don’t care what anyone says. Nyra is alive. And I will find her." His voice shook. "I have to find her. I can’t lose her again. I can’t."

The Queen looked at her son—at the grief and determination warring on his face—and her heart broke.

"Then we’ll find her," she said quietly. "Together. Whatever it takes."

In the streets of the Palace City, the festival had come to a halt.

The celebrations were over. The music had stopped. The lanterns still burned, but their light seemed dimmer now, as if the city itself was in mourning. People moved through the streets in silence, their faces shocked and uncertain. The joy of the morning had curdled into something cold and fearful.

Word spread quickly—the Moonblood heir was dead. The seer had cursed Lord Varek. The crown prince had collapsed in grief. The realm had witnessed something terrible, something that would change everything.

In the taverns and inns, people whispered.

"Did you see it? The princess just... faded away. Like she was made of moonlight."

"The seer cursed Varek. Blood came out of his eyes."

"They say the prince remembered everything at the last moment. That he screamed her name."

"They say the Moon Goddess took her daughter home."

"And the investigation? What happens now?"

"No one knows. The King has ordered a full inquiry. Varek is in custody."

"But the princess is dead. What’s left to investigate?"

The questions hung in the air, unanswered.

At the academy, the students who had stayed behind were in shock.

The festival had been meant to be a celebration—a chance to see old friends, to honor the prince’s return, to forget the troubles of the past year. Instead, it had become a tragedy beyond comprehension.

Finn sat in the common room, his head in his hands. Marek stood by the window, staring at the moon. Jasper had locked himself in the library, unable to face anyone. Maureen had gone to find him.

"She’s gone," Finn whispered. "She’s really gone."

"We don’t know that," Marek said quietly. "Soren said the bond is still there. Corvin said the same."

"The bond doesn’t mean anything if her body is gone. If she’s just... butterflies."

"Don’t say that."

"It’s true, isn’t it?" Finn looked up, his eyes red. "I keep thinking about all the times I could have told her how much she meant to me. All the times I should have been a better friend. And now—" He broke off, unable to continue.

"She knew," Marek said. "She knew how much you cared. She knew all of us cared."

"Did she? I’m not sure she did. I’m not sure any of us did enough."

The room fell silent. Outside, the moon hung in the sky, cold and distant and utterly indifferent.

In his suite, Lord Varek lay in chains.

The curse had not killed him, but it had left him broken. His body was wracked with pain, his skin pale and clammy, his breathing shallow. Blood still leaked from the corners of his eyes, his ears, his nose. The seer’s magic was still working through him, ensuring he felt every moment of his suffering.

He had lost everything.

The throne he had schemed for. The power he had killed for. The reputation he had spent decades building. All of it, gone in a single night.

But even now, even in his suffering, his mind was working.

This isn’t over, he thought. I still have allies. I still have resources. I’ll find a way out of this. I’ll escape. I’ll rebuild. And when I do—

His thoughts were interrupted by a fit of coughing that left him gasping for air.

The guards outside his door didn’t even look in.

Corvin stood alone on the palace balcony, staring at the sky.

The butterflies had disappeared long ago, vanishing into the moonlight. But he couldn’t stop seeing them—silver and gold and shimmering white, rising from Nyra’s fading body like a prayer.

She was right there, he thought. In my arms. And then she was gone.

Zen stirred in his mind. We’ll find her. The bond is still there. She’s not truly lost.

How do we find someone who turned into butterflies? How do we bring her back from wherever the Moon Goddess took her?

I don’t know. But we’ll find a way. We always do.

Corvin’s hands tightened on the railing. He was the Serpent. The strategist. The one who always had a plan. But tonight, for the first time in his life, he had no plan. No angle. No clever solution.

Just grief. And guilt. And a desperate, burning need to undo what had been done.

I’m sorry, Nyra, he thought. I should have protected you. I should have found the evidence sooner. I should have stopped the arrow.

But it was too late for apologies.

The seer stood at the edge of the square, watching the moon.

Ilara stood beside her, her face pale. "Mistress? What happens now?"

The seer was silent for a long moment. Then she spoke.

"The goddess has taken her daughter home. But the story is not over." She paused. "The Moonblood line cannot end so easily. The prophecy speaks of a daughter who will save the realm—not one who will die before her time."

"But she faded. She disappeared."

"She was taken. Not destroyed. There is a difference." The seer turned to look at Ilara. "The prince feels the bond. The serpent feels it too. That means the daughter still lives—in some form. In some realm. And she will return."

"When?"

"I don’t know. But the goddess would not have sent me that vision if the end had already been written." She looked back at the moon. "We must prepare. The next battle is coming. And this time, the realm must be ready."

Ilara nodded slowly. "What do we do first?"

The seer’s lips curved into a faint, sad smile.

"We wait. And we pray."