When The Luna Broke Her Chains novel Chapter 19

Chapter 19 Ashes They Call Evidence

[XENA]

I’m running.

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I don’t know where, or for how long–only that something is chasing me. The wet slap of its limbs echoes behind me, the sound of something dragging itself across earth.

A hydralith.

That makes no sense. Hydraliths cannot survive outside water. They shrivel and die. But in my dream, it races after me with horrifying ease, its gills flaring, sharp teeth snapping.

I look over my shoulder and nearly trip.

Its face–Goddess–its face looks like Davina’s.

My heart punches against my ribs. I run harder. Branches whip at my skin. My lungs burn. When I look back again, the hydralith is gone.

In its place are wolves–rogue wolves–at least a dozen of them. Their eyes glow wild and hungry as they sprint toward me, tearing up the forest floor.

My legs shake. My throat closes around a scream.

This is a dream, I tell myself. This isn’t real. This can’t be real. But the fear feels real enough to split me open. I stumble, fall to my knees, and the ground tilts beneath me. The roars close in.

How long will you keep running? A voice slithers into my ear. Will you always be this weak?

I curl into myself as the rogues leap. But before they reach me, they’re flung back by a ripping force–like the world itself pushed them away. I gasp, lifting my head.

A wolf stands before me, unlike any I’ve ever seen or read about. Massive. Beautiful. Black fur gleaming like polished obsidian, eyes bright gold as the sun. Twice the size of any transformed werewolf. Her presence cracks the nightmare in half.

“Vera…” I whisper, reaching out to her fur. Relief crashes through me like a wave, but the moment my fingers brush air, she shifts–her shape blurring, her body rising–and a man stands where she was.

A man with a wolf’s head tattoo on his wrist.

His storm–grey eyes soften as he cups my cheek. His lips move, forming words I can almost feel but cannot hear. His touch warms my skin, soothing me even in this dream.

“Wait-“I try to speak, but he fades like smoke. Darkness swallows him.

My eyes snap open. The ceiling of the healer’s quarters swims into focus.

I’m back. Again. The same white ointment smell, the same soft lamplight. My bruises hum beneath the linen wraps. I’ve been here for two days now. Two days of lying still, two days of thinking too much, two days of pretending this isn’t becoming my new normal.

I push myself upright, hissing when my ribs protest. I expect Kasumi–her gentle face, her timid scolding- but she isn’t here. I look down at my arms. The swelling is worse today. Purple and blue bruises bloom

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Chapter 19 Ashes They Call Evidence

under the fading salve.

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Morrin appears in the doorway, her expression unreadable as always. Her dark blue robe sways around her ankles. She glances once at my posture, at how I haven’t moved, and her lips press thin. “Good,” she says. “At least you’re resting this time.”

I manage a small smile. “I’m trying.”

She steps closer, gaze dipping to the faint scars–no, not even scars; there are none–where my burn wounds used to be. “You still haven’t told me how your old injuries healed,” she says flatly.

I look away. “I told you–a healer in Crescent Ash helped me.”

Morrin doesn’t blink. “Guild healers cannot make skin anew. The finest training in the continent cannot erase a wound to perfection. Even I can only close a scar after days of work.”

I swallow. “I don’t know what else to tell you.”

Her eyes linger on me a moment longer before she exhales.

“Luna,” she says. The word lands like a stone in my stomach. She never calls me that unless she intends to speak plainly. “You didn’t respond to your lunar energy report. You can try for a child now.”

My mouth dries. “Yes. I… remember.”

“You seemed very excited,” she adds quietly. “You kept pestering me about it. Now I hear nothing?”

My throat aches. I lift my gaze to hers. “Things change, Chief Healer Morrin. Every day… things change.”

Before she can respond, a beta appears at the door. He bows–a stiff, obligatory gesture. “Luna Xena,” he says. “You are required to present yourself at the Alpha’s hearing. Immediately.”

Morrin steps forward to protest. “She’s healing. She shouldn’t move.”

The beta barely looks at her. “It’s the Alpha’s command.”

I force myself onto my feet, every muscle screaming. “I can’t ignore the Alpha’s command,” I murmur, mostly to Morrin.

A flicker of pity crosses her face.

But pity cannot help me now.

***

The main hall is already full when I arrive. Wolves line the walls and stairs, some whispering, some openly staring as I limp across the marble floor.

Cassian sits on his throne with a straight back, his face impassive even as it fixes on me. It is beautiful in a way that masks rot.

Lady Mara and Oriel stand before him like two pillars of self–righteousness. I know its them just by looking

at their backs.

What now? I wonder.

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I take my place beside them. Cassian watches me for a moment–no concern, no warmth–before turning back to his mother. “Luna Xena,” he says, voice carrying across the chamber. “You have been accused of burning Oriel’s clothes… and of injuring Lady Mara.”

My blood runs cold. I stare at Oriel, who conveniently starts crying, shoulders shaking in practiced tremors. Lady Mara clutches her sleeve dramatically, ugly mottled marks painted across her cheek and exposed

neck.

A short laugh escapes me. “I did that?” I ask.

Oriel snarls. “She has the audacity to laugh!”

I turn my head away. My legs tremble with the need to sit, to breathe. But I stay upright.

Cassian slams his fist on the armrest. “Enough. This is not a place for mockery or deceit.”

Mara lifts her chin. “Can she prove she didn’t do it?”

I stare at them. “I’m supposed to prove I’m innocent?”

Cassian does not meet my eyes.

I force myself to ask Oriel, “Explain what happened.”

“Oh, you want an explanation from me now? About what you did? Fine! I was in my chamber getting ready,” she sniffles. “I smelled smoke coming from my chest of clothes. I opened it–and my clothes were charred.”

Cassian shifts on the throne. The crowd murmurs.

I narrow my eyes. “They caught fire in a closed chest?”

Oriel nods eagerly. “I’m not lying! Bring the chest!”

A servant hurries forward, setting the wooden chest before us. It looks perfectly normal on the outside. He flips it open. Inside, the clothes are nothing but blackened scraps. Heat coils under my skin–not from fear, but from certainty.

This is a setup. A new one.

And I am too tired, too sore to pretend I don’t see it coming.