Moonlit Vows Of Vengeance

Chapter 123: Ruin

"What do you think I’m doing, Lucas?" Her voice cracked. "Everything I do is for them. For this realm. For the people I’ve bled for. I have no power. No wolf. No claim. What else do they respect but blood and bond?"

"You think they respect Kieran more than they fear you?" I whispered. "Then they’re fools."

She looked away.

And then I said the one thing I swore I wouldn’t.

"I know about the condition."

Her whole body tensed.

"The curse," I said. "We found it. In the Temple of the First Moon. The relic said—"

"I know what it said," she cut me off, eyes burning. "I know what it demands."

"I don’t want to be your weakness," I said. "But if you think destroying me will bring your power back, do it. Kill me."

"Stop it."

"I mean it. Do it. Right here, right now."

She slapped me.

The sound echoed like a gunshot.

"You don’t get to choose who I sacrifice!" she screamed.

And then she broke.

All the fury, all the pain collapsed in on her.

She sank to her knees, sobbing.

I knelt too.

My hand didn’t dare touch her at first.

Then I reached out, gently, resting my palm over her heart.

"I didn’t come here to fight," I whispered. "I came because I couldn’t lose you to this. To them. To yourself."

Her breath hitched.

"I don’t know what I’m supposed to do," she said.

"Then don’t do anything yet," I replied. "Just... breathe. Let me stand with you. Even if the whole realm turns against us. Even if you never love me again. I’m not going anywhere." noveldrama

Her fingers curled into mine.

I closed my eyes.

The storm hadn’t passed.

But for the first time in weeks, I felt her pulse beneath my hand. Strong. Steady.

And real.

She was still here.

And that meant everything.

(Athena’s POV)

The wedding was a ruin. Shattered glass crunched beneath my boots as I walked through the wreckage in silence. The garlands Lucas had torn down lay tangled like vines over the broken altar. The sacred moon basin lay in pieces at my feet, a jagged symbol of everything I could no longer hold together.

He didn’t speak, not as I walked away from him. He knew better. The storm inside me was quiet now—but not calm. Just cold.

I should have hated him.

But all I could feel was relief.

My heart was still beating. Not because I’d chosen the right thing—but because I hadn’t been forced to choose the wrong one.

"Are you going to say something?" I asked without turning.

Lucas leaned against one of the fallen pillars. His face was bruised from the fight with the guards. A fresh cut bled slowly along his cheekbone. But he looked alive. Fierce. Mine.

"I already said everything I came to say," he said quietly. "If you want me gone now, I’ll go."

I turned.

He looked so tired.

So wrecked.

So stupidly beautiful.

"No," I whispered. "Not yet."

His eyes widened.

I stepped closer, until my fingers touched the hem of his torn sleeve. "Stay. Please."

A rustle in the woods snapped my head around.

We both heard it.

Lucas moved faster than I could blink, yanking me behind him as a silver-tipped arrow embedded in the tree inches from where my heart had been.

"Ambush," he growled.

Three shadows emerged from the forest line—cloaked figures, faces masked, weapons drawn. They moved like wolves, coordinated, fast, precise.

I reached for my power.

Nothing.

Still nothing.

Lucas didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward, disarming the first assassin with a brutal twist and snapping his wrist with a crack. The man fell screaming.

The second caught Lucas in the ribs with a short dagger, but it only seemed to enrage him. He grabbed the blade with his bare hand, yanked it out of his own flesh, and drove it into the attacker’s throat.

Blood sprayed the trees.

The last man turned toward me.

"Found her," he snarled. "The—she’s vulnerable."

A blur of black crashed into him from the side.

Lyra.

She had come from nowhere, a whirlwind of motion and fury, her dagger flashing like lightning. She pinned the assassin to the ground, knees pressing into his chest, and slit his throat clean.

She didn’t blink.

Didn’t breathe.

Just stood, staring down at the corpse like it had insulted her ancestors.

Then her eyes met mine.

"You need to move," she said, voice tight. "There might be more."

I stared.

She looked like death. Drenched in blood, hair tangled, expression carved from stone. But there was something else in her eyes now. Not jealousy. Not cold resentment.

Worry.

For me.

We moved quickly, hiding among the shattered pillars until we were sure the attackers were gone. Lucas tied the survivors—two unconscious, one dead. The fourth had fled.

I couldn’t stop shaking.

"They came for me," I whispered.

Lyra nodded. "Of course they did."

"Do you think... was it one of the noble? Or someone that Caelum influenced?"

Lucas answered, "Does it matter? They want to break you before you rise. No one wants a Luna they can’t control."

The wind howled around us.

The moon, once full and bright, now looked thin. Cracked. Like it, too, had watched the ceremony fall apart.

"I need to reclaim my power," I said.

Lyra gave a short nod. "And you will. But not like this."

I turned to her. "Why are you helping me?"

For the first time, her mask slipped.

"I was once the other woman," she said softly. "The one left behind, the one blamed for being too strong. I know what it’s like to want to fight and have no sword."

She looked at Lucas.

"But I also know what it’s like to watch the one you love be forced to destroy himself just to protect you."

Lucas looked away, jaw clenched.

"I don’t trust people easily," she said. "But you’re not them. You’re not a puppet. You’re chaos."

"Thanks," I said dryly.

She smirked. "It was a compliment."