Hades' Cursed Luna novel Chapter 340

Chapter 340: Back Home

Eve

Light filtered into the darkness, my limbs too heavy to block the illuminating assult on my senses. Slowly, I lifted my head even as my neck felt like it was being held down with an anvil.

Every surface and corner of white I found myself was a single colour; white. Instantly panic rose in my throat, suffocating me. What was I doing in the white room, after just leaving the black room. Had I somehow got trapped in Hades’ psyche, even though everything around me had fallen apart because of the Fenrir’s marker’s onslaught. Had I gotten lost just like Hades?

Horror clawed it’s way up my spine as I shot up fully in bed than was strangely softer than I recalled. As I grabbed the edge of the thin blanket, pain lanced through my hand, a wire pulling at my flesh.

I yanked on it, pulling out the needle, blood instantly bubbling up to the surface, but I had no time to let the pain register. My legs hit the ground and hoistered myself up.

The floor rushed up to meet me—but not because I had lunged.

Because I was falling.

My legs gave out before I could fully stand, my knees buckling as my weight crumpled like paper. A sharp gasp tore from my throat, panic surging higher than reason. I threw my hand out for something—anything—but the pristine white room offered no anchor.

And then—

Blaring.

A high-pitched wail split the air like a knife through silk. Red light bathed the ceiling. A siren? No—an alarm. And it was screaming for me.

My breath hitched. My body tensed. What did I do? What had I triggered?

Footsteps thundered beyond the walls. The sound of boots. Voices. Orders.

A click echoed from the door ahead—metal on metal—before it whooshed open with mechanical precision.

I scrambled back, heart pounding. My body remembered too much. Pain. Restraints. Betrayal. My hands curled into fists, my bloodied palm shaking.

Let them come.

I would fight.

But instead of needles and restraints, two figures in white stepped in—not with malice, but with awe.

"Your Highness," one of them breathed.

Before I could respond, they were kneeling.

Kneeling.

"Careful!" another voice barked behind them. "She’s disoriented. She is still just adapting after the Rite—get the bind off her wrist."

Hands reached for me—not to harm, but to steady. To help.

I froze.

"What—?"

Then the third shadow filled the doorway.

Towering. Regal but with the slight hunch of a old man. Familiar

Montegue.

He stepped in like he belonged here, his eyes sharp and unreadable—but not unkind. In his arms was a bundle wrapped in soft navy wool, a tiny hand gripping his lapel.

Elliot.

My lips parted, a sob caught between disbelief and relief.

And just behind them—

Lucinda.

Her eyes locked with mine—and something inside her shattered.

"Eve!" she gasped, rushing forward. No hesitation. Her arms closed around me before I could decide if I was dreaming. What the hell was she doing?

"I’m sorry," she whispered against my hair. "I’m so sorry I wasn’t there—I didn’t know—you weren’t supposed to—" I had never been so confused in my life. Her body was warm, but her frame bony.

I couldn’t breathe.

Not from fear.