The Second Chance Of The Rejected Moon (Celine and Bastian) novel Chapter 176

The Second Chance Of The Rejected Moon

Chapter 176

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The laughter of the man walking slowly, his boots striking against the wet pavement, irritates me far more than I want to admit. I have paralyzed thousands of people the same way he is doing it to me, and now I understand what it feels like when someone else has absolute control over your body and you can’t do anything to regain it. I can’t even turn my head to follow him with my eyes. All I can do is listen to him approach as his footsteps echo between the destroyed buildings.

“Don’t leave me talking to myself, boy. It’s rude.”

That word again. Boy. I’m starting to hate it.

“You know? I saw you leave the castle as if someone had set you on fire, as if the air inside those walls were toxic and you needed to escape before you suffocated to death. Then you went to the hospital, looked for the man you put to sleep along with the prince, and when you left, you did nothing but walk through these streets while muttering words like a frightened little boy.”

I grit my teeth.

“Shut up. Are you my stalker now? I’m not into men, sorry.”

The laugh that answers my words makes something inside me tense.

“Of course you’re not into men.”

He steps in front of me, and for the first time, I can see him up close. His gray eyes seem far too bright in the darkness, almost silver beneath the torchlight, and the amused expression on his face makes me want to wipe it off. But the worst part isn’t his appearance or the calmness with which he watches me. It’s the sensation he creates by simply being near me. There is something ancient about his presence, something my body recognizes even though my mind still can’t identify it.

He begins to circle me with slow, deliberate steps, like a predator studying its prey. I follow him with my eyes as much as my position allows, trying to find a weakness, a crack, anything that might allow me to regain control. I find nothing.

“You like my woman. Celine Miller. Well, that’s what she’s called now, in this life.”

The blood seems to stop flowing through my veins.

I should have understood it sooner.

That shadow that is always near her. That presence I felt around Celine without being able to identify it. That sensation that someone was watching her, protecting her, and waiting from somewhere I couldn’t reach.

Him.

“So you’re the one who took her when she was injured. The one who healed her and saved her son’s life.”

The man smiles and stops in front of me.

“You’re good at drawing conclusions, but… almost.”

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The Second Chance Of The Rejected Moon

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He makes a small gesture of boredom with his hands, as if the conversation has stopped amusing him. The pressure keeping my body immobile suddenly disappears, and I regain control of my muscles. My legs almost give out from the lack of movement, but I manage to stay standing. I flex my fingers, slowly roll my shoulders, and take a breath as I begin to feel every part of my body again.

I stare at him.

“You’re a demon.”

His smile widens.

“That’s right, little one.”

He snaps his fingers, and in the blink of an eye, the entire street changes before my eyes. The broken stones covering the pavement fall back into place, the buildings regain their facades, and the windows return to their frames. Storefronts appear illuminated, doors are no longer covered in dust, and the remains of the battle disappear as if they had never existed. Even the air seems different.

A few seconds ago, we were walking among ruins, and now we’re surrounded by an intact, illuminated, silent city, as if the last year of war had been erased from reality. The demon makes the slightest gesture with one finger, indicating that I should keep walking, and I obey more out of curiosity than willingness.

“Which one are you? I recently met one. Irritable, as if nothing mattered more to him than his own desires.”

The demon walking beside me draws a small, mischievous smile. There is something in his expression that makes me think I just mentioned someone he knows far too well.

“Zharzel. He’s one of the thousands of sons my brother has, but the only legitimate one. At some point, he will inherit his place.”

I glance at him.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

He stops and looks at the street around us. For a few seconds, he says nothing. His eyes move over the buildings, the storefronts, and the lights now illuminating the facades, as if he were looking at something that belongs to him. Then he raises a hand and snaps his fingers again.

The illusion disappears.

The street is once again covered in rubble, the facades bear the wounds of the battle, and the pavement remains covered in mud and water. The destroyed buildings suddenly return to the reality I saw when I left the hospital. The contrast is so absurd that for a moment I simply stare around me, trying to decide whether what he just did was magic, an illusion, or simply another display of his power.

“I have many names,” he finally says. “Humans and supernatural beings like you are incredibly creative when

it comes to naming things they don’t understand. Some call me one thing, others call me something else. I’ve had so many that a long time ago I stopped caring about them.”

He resumes walking, and I walk beside him.

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