Eighth-Born Luna (Emily and Nathan) novel Chapter 167

Chapter 167

Emily’s POV

A month had passed, and time never stopped. No matter how much pain the world survives, no matter how many people we lose, everything keeps moving forward. And somehow, we did too.

The burned houses across our territory slowly disappeared, replaced by new, warmer homes. We built an entirely new section near the river for the rescued breeder women and their children, where there was more sunlight, more trees, and cleaner air. Fewer bad memories.

The tiny houses were painted soft colors now instead of cold stone gray, and children’s laughter gradually took over the area.

Meredyth practically lived there these days. After Alpha King Garrett died, I thought part of her had vanished with him forever. But then the babies came, and the young mothers, anff somehow, she found a purpose again. She was there for every birth, every fever, every nightmare. Sometimes I would catch her rocking a baby beneath the trees, tears quietly slipping down her cheeks while she smiled anyway. Saving them helped save her, too.

As for me, I tried to help wherever I could, but being Luna Queen meant the world never stopped demanding pieces of you. Some days I stayed to help rebuild our own home. Other days, Nathan and I traveled between neighboring packs, repairing barriers with crystals, stabilizing leadership, and trying to stop the entire wolf world from collapsing after Silas’s war.

Thankfully, I wasn’t doing it alone.

“What about this one?” I held up another dusty book while standing between towering shelves inside the rogue castle library.

The place still felt strange, like the walls remembered terrible things.

Zynair glanced up from the crystals spread across the table beside her. “Interesting,” she murmured. “But dangerous.”

“That usually means useful.”

“That usually means explosive.”

Fair point. I walked closer and showed her the spell diagram etched beside the rune sequence. “If we combine this stabilization pattern with my magic-”

“Maybe,” Zynair interrupted cautiously. “But I’m not sure I could preserve the crystal energy permanently.” She frowned slightly. “The amount of power you pour into these things breaks every magical rule I know.”

I smiled faintly, “Good,”

Zynair snorted softly before reaching for another book. We had spent weeks tearing through the rogue archives searching for anything useful against Silas–protective barriers, tracking spells, ancient rune structures. Anything. Because deep down, none of us believed the war was truly over.

“How’s the coven?” I asked casually, flipping through a brittle page.

Zynair made a face. “Well… they’re grateful you handed Varga over to us alive.” Her eyes flicked toward me. That bought wolves a shocking amount of goodwill.”

“So relations are improving?”

Zynair burst out laughing. “Oh, sweetheart. Absolutely not.”

I laughed too. “Fair enough.”

“Witches and wolves have centuries of blood between us,” she said, adjusting one of the crystals carefully beneath the lantern light. “One shared enemy doesn’t fix that.”

“And Varga?”

Zynair’s hands paused briefly. Her expression turned dark. “…Emily, trust me when I say you do not want details.”

That told me more than enough. “Right.”

“You already carry guilt for things that aren’t even remotely your fault,” she muttered. “Varga doesn’t deserve

space in your head, too.”

I smiled weakly. “…Thanks.”

For a while, the only sounds were the crackle of the fire and turning pages. Outside the castle windows, the mountains had already faded into total darkness.

“Do you think Silas is already planning something else?” I asked eventually.

Zynair didn’t answer right away, which felt worse than if she had.

“…Yes,” she admitted finally.

The truth sat heavily between us. I leaned back against the edge of the table.

“I still can’t believe he tricked all of us like that.” My fingers tightened around the old book. “I was convinced here were only two things he wanted from me.”

“To drain your power,” Zynair said quietly.

“Or force immortality through a bond like Declan.”

Zynair nodded. “Same.”

A bitter laugh escaped me. “And meanwhile, he chose a completely different option.” I shook my head slowly.

“Nearly dying on purpose just so I’d heal him without realizing it.”

“Through Titus,” Zynair muttered darkly.

“He’s insane.”

“Ancient men usually are.”

Haughed harder than I meant to at that, and even Zynair smiled faintly.

“Or maybe,” “I added dryly, “he just really didn’t want eternity with me.”

“Oh, please,” Zynair snorted: “If anything, that man is obsessed with you in his own deeply horrifying way.”

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