Chapter 173

Nyra appeared in the palace courtyard in a blaze of silver light.

The guards on duty stumbled backward, their hands going to their weapons, their eyes wide with shock. But Nyra didn’t see them. She didn’t see the walls or the torches or the cold stone beneath her feet. All she could see was the moonlight the beautiful, full moonlight that bathed the world in silver.

I’m back, she thought. I’m actually back.

She took a step forward, her legs unsteady, her body still adjusting to the weight of flesh and bone. She felt different stronger, lighter, as if some great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. The Moonblood power hummed beneath her skin, fully awake, fully controlled.

But something was missing.

She reached for the bond the thread that connected her to Soren and found nothing. Just emptiness. A void where warmth and love and life should have been.

No, she thought. No, no, no.

She ran.

She ran through the corridors, past the guards who shouted after her, past the servants who gasped and pointed. She ran until she reached Soren’s chambers the room where he had held her, kissed her, told her he loved her.

The door was open. The room was empty.

She stood in the doorway, her chest heaving, her heart pounding. The bed was unmade. A book lay open on the nightstand. A half-empty cup of water sat on the desk. But there was no Soren. No body. No sign that he had ever been there at all.

“Soren?” Her voice was a whisper. “Soren, where are you?”

No answer.

She screamed.

It was a sound of pure, primal grief the sound of a heart breaking beyond repair. She fell to her knees, her hands clutching the cold stone floor, her tears streaming down her face.

“Bring him back!” she screamed at the empty room. “Bring him back! Please! Please, I’m begging you! Bring him back!”

But no one answered. No one came.

She stayed there for a long time minutes, hours, she didn’t know. She cried until she had no tears left. She screamed until her voice was raw. And when she finally rose to her feet, something had changed inside her.

The grief was still there, burning in her chest. But beneath it, something else was stirring. Something cold. Something determined.

I will find you, she thought. Wherever you are—whatever realm has taken you—I will find you. And I will bring you back.

She turned and walked out of the room.

She wandered through the palace, her silver hair flowing behind her, her moonlight eyes blazing. The guards didn’t try to stop her. The servants didn’t dare approach. They had all heard the legends of the Moonblood heir the Daughter of the Moon but none of them had ever believed she was real.

Now they knew.

She found the healing chamber by following the sound of voices soft, urgent, desperate. She pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The King and Queen were there, kneeling beside a bed. The healers stood around them, their faces pale, their hands glowing with healing magic. And on the bed, pale and awake but still, lay Freya, her eyes were closed but she was awake.

Nyra’s heart clenched.

She walked forward, her footsteps silent on the stone floor. The King looked up when she approached, his eyes widening with shock.

“You,” he breathed. “You’re—you’re alive.”

“I’m alive,” Nyra said. “But your daughter won’t be for long.”

The Queen looked up, her face streaked with tears. “What do you mean?”

“The antidote Varek gave you is a fake. It will only slow the poison, not cure it. In a few days, it will come back stronger than before.” Nyra knelt beside Freya’s bed and examined the wound. “The poison is still in her leg. It’s rooted deep deeper than any healer can reach. But I can remove it.”

“You can?” The King’s voice was desperate. “How?”

“I am the Daughter of the Moon. The Moonblood power runs through my veins. And the Moonblood power can heal what no medicine can.” She looked at the King and Queen. “But it will hurt. It will hurt more than anything she has ever experienced. You need to hold her down.”

The Queen nodded, her face pale but determined. She took Freya’s hand. The King took her other hand. The healers gathered around, ready to assist.

Nyra placed her hands on Freya’s leg on the wound that was still oozing black blood but looking clearer than it has in weeks because if the antidote they used. She closed her eyes and reached for her power.

The silver light flared.

“Hold her,” Nyra said. “This is going to be bad.”

She summoned the power—all of it—and channeled it into the wound. The silver light burned bright, brighter than the sun, and Freya’s eyes flew open.

She screamed.

It was a scream of pure, unadulterated agony the sound of a body being torn apart and put back together. Freya thrashed against the hands that held her, her body arching off the bed, her eyes rolling back in her head.

“Hold her!” Nyra shouted.

The King and Queen held on, their faces pale with fear and determination. The healers pressed down on her limbs. And Nyra worked pulling the poison from the wound, dragging it out of the flesh and bone and blood, forcing it out of the body it had infected.

It came slowly dark tendrils of corruption that writhed and fought, trying to stay rooted in Freya’s body. Nyra pulled harder, her power blazing, her silver light burning away the darkness inch by inch.

Freya’s screams grew louder—higher—more desperate.

“Almost there,” Nyra said through gritted teeth. “Just a little more.”

She gave one final pull—and the poison came free.

It rose into the air like black smoke, twisting and writhing, trying to escape. But Nyra wasn’t done. She raised her hand, and the silver light consumed the poison, burning it away until nothing remained.

Freya’s eyes fluttered. Her body relaxed. And then her eyes—her eyes that had been brown turned gold. The gold of a wolf. The gold like her brother’s wolf.

Then she fainted.

Nyra smiled. “She’ll wake up in a few minutes. Give her time.”

The Queen sobbed with relief. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Nyra’s voice was heavy. “There’s something I need to tell you. Something about your son.”

The King looked at her, his face pale. “Soren? What about Soren?”

Nyra was silent for a moment. Then she spoke.

“He’s gone.”

They gathered in the King’s private chambers.

Nyra stood before the King and Queen, her heart heavy with grief. She had told them about the sacrifice about Soren’s bargain with the Moon Goddess, about the life he had given for his sister and for her. She had watched their faces crumble, heard their sobs, seen their world shatter.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”

The Queen was crying openly, her body shaking. The King stood rigid, his jaw tight, tears streaming down his face despite his efforts to hold them back.

“He loved you,” Nyra said. “He loved all of you. He gave his life for you—for all of us. And I will never forget that.”

The King nodded slowly. “What now?”

“Now we finish this. Varek is still out there. He has the abdication papers—the ones that would make him king. We need to stop him before he uses them.”

“I’ll send soldiers—”

“I’ll go myself.” Nyra’s voice was firm. “This is my fight. Varek killed my brother. Varek killed my father. Varek tried to kill me. I will be the one to bring him to justice.”

The King looked at her at the determination in her silver eyes, at the quiet strength in her voice. He nodded.

“Then go. Bring him back. And when this is over—when the realm is safe we will honor my son. We will build a monument in his name. And we will never forget what he did.”

“No,” Nyra said. “We will never forget.”

Corvin and the rest arrived at the palace just as Nyra was preparing to leave.

They came through the main gates, their prisoners in chains Elias, Xavier, Nikolai, the guards. Ragnar was at the front, his scarred face grim. Roderic walked beside him, his expression unreadable. Valeria brought up the rear, her crossbow slung over her shoulder.

And then Corvin saw her.

Nyra was standing at the entrance to the palace, her silver hair glowing in the moonlight, her moonlight eyes blazing. She looked like a goddess—like something out of a dream.

Corvin’s heart stopped.

“Nyra?” His voice was barely a whisper. “Is it—is it really you?”

She smiled—a small, sad smile. “Hello, Corvin.”

He ran to her.

He threw his arms around her, pulling her close, holding her as if she might disappear if he let go. Tears streamed down his face. His body shook with sobs.

“You’re back,” he whispered. “You’re really back.”

“I’m back,” she said. “I’m here.”

The others gathered around—Ragnar, Roderic, Valeria. They all stared at her in disbelief, their faces a mixture of shock and joy.

Ragnar stepped forward. “How? How are you—”

“It’s a long story.” Nyra pulled back from Corvin and looked at them. “I’ll tell you everything later. But first—” She looked at Valeria. “You weren’t so bad after all.”

Valeria blinked. “I… I have to survive. I go with the winning party.”

Nyra smiled. “Thank you. For helping them. For choosing the right side.”

Valeria nodded, her expression unreadable.

Nyra’s eyes swept over the group, taking in the prisoners, the chains, the weapons. And then she spoke.

“We have other things to do. Varek has the abdication papers. He’s probably on his way to the palace right now to claim the throne. We need to stop him.”

“We’re ready,” Corvin said. “Whatever you need.”

“Good.” Nyra looked at Ragnar. “There’s something you need to know. About Finn.”

Ragnar’s face went pale. “What about Finn?”

Nyra looked at Corvin, who nodded. Then she spoke.

“He’s the traitor.”

In the Shadowmoon Academy dormitory, Finn was packing.

He moved quickly, frantically, throwing clothes into a bag, not caring if they matched, not caring if he left anything behind. The room was empty Jasper had gone to the library, Marek to the training grounds, Maureen to the cafeteria. He was alone.

I have to get out of here, he thought. The plan has failed. Morgath is dead. Elias is captured. Varek is probably dead too. I’m the only one left.

He zipped the bag and turned toward the door.

Jasper was standing in the doorway.

Finn froze.

“Jasper.” His voice was calm, steady. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Jasper’s sharp eyes flickered to the bag. “Going somewhere?”

“Just… a trip. I need some time away.”

“A trip?” Jasper stepped into the room. “In the middle of the night? With all your clothes packed? Without telling anyone?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“No, you don’t. But I think you should.” Jasper’s voice was quiet, but there was steel beneath it. “Where are you going, Finn?”

“I told you—”

“Don’t lie to me.” Jasper stepped closer. “I’ve known you for months. I’ve watched you. I’ve noticed the changes. The midnight walks. The secret meetings. The way you’ve been acting strange.” He paused. “You’re the traitor, aren’t you?”

Finn’s expression didn’t change. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t.” Jasper’s voice was sharp. “Don’t you dare lie to me, Finn. I know you. I know when you’re lying. You’re the one who’s been feeding information to Varek. You’re the one who helped kidnap Freya. You’re the one who’s been working against us from the beginning.”

Finn stared at him for a long moment. Then, slowly, he smiled.

“You caught me already.” He dropped the bag. “You said you know me. But I doubt you know me that well.”

One second he was across the room. The next, he was right in front of Jasper, a dagger in his hand.

Jasper’s eyes widened. “Finn—”

The dagger plunged into his stomach.

Jasper gasped, his hands flying to the wound. Blood welled between his fingers, hot and red. He looked at Finn—at the cold, empty eyes of the boy he had called a friend.

“I’m sorry,” Finn whispered.

Then he picked up his bag and fled.

At the palace, Nyra and the others were mobilizing.

Soldiers gathered in the courtyard, their armor gleaming in the moonlight, their faces grim. The King had given the order—Varek was to be captured and brought to justice. The abdication papers were to be retrieved.

Nyra stood at the center of it all, her silver hair flowing, her moonlight eyes blazing.

“I’ll lead the search,” she said. “Varek will be heading for the palace—he wants to claim the throne before anyone can stop him. We’ll intercept him on the road.”

“We’re with you,” Corvin said.

Ragnar stepped forward, his scarred face pale. “I need to see Finn first. Before I accept what you told me. I need to hear it from his own lips.”

Nyra looked at him—at the pain in his eyes, at the desperate hope that it might not be true.

“Then we’ll find him,” she said. “Together.”

Ragnar nodded. “Thank you.”

Nyra turned to the others. “Before I see Varek—before I do anything else—I have to settle a score.” She looked at Corvin. “There’s someone I need to see first.”

Corvin nodded. “Selene.”

“Selene,” Nyra repeated. “It’s time she learned the consequences of betraying me.”

She walked toward the palace, her silver light blazing. The moon hung overhead, full and bright—the first full moon in four months. The realm was saved. The goddess was appeased.

But the battle was not over.