Chapter 25 - The blade reforged

🌕 Moonblood: The Curse of Arodan

**Chapter Twenty-Five: 25

The wind screamed as it fell.

From the sky, wrapped in silver fire, the moon-crystal blade spun downward like a falling star, cutting through clouds, through shadow, through the memory of the Veil itself.

It came for Draven.

He stood in the forest clearing, eyes lifted.

And he did not run.

The blade struck the earth before him — not with thunder, but with silence. A soft, deep sound, like a heartbeat finally returning to its body.

Draven reached for it.

The moment his fingers touched the hilt, the silver fire rushed into him.

Pain seared through his arm, into his spine.

Images flashed through his mind.

Callen, crowned.

Elira, in chains.

The Queen, holding the name Mireya in her hand like a flame she could not control.

And then—himself.

Not just Draven.

But Draven as he could become:

Cloaked in starlight.

Eyes burning silver.

Blood no longer cursed—but chosen.

Sword raised against the dark.

And still himself.

He opened his eyes.

The blade was no longer just silver.

It shimmered with all three names—and something new.

Not a name.

Not yet.

But a presence.

A whisper, just barely there:

"Let me in..."

✧ Callen

The fire moved with him now.

He didn't walk through the ruined village of Durellen — he burned through it. Every step left warmth in the broken ground.

The crown glowed on his brow, and the villagers who had once feared the Moonblood now knelt before him.

A Sister stood beside him, silent.

"Why didn't they stop this?" Callen asked.

"The Queen burned this place herself," the Sister said. "To draw the flame to her. And to test what you would do when given a kingdom of ash."

Callen clenched his fists.

His power surged.

He raised one hand—and the flames lifted from the rubble, drawing into his palm. The sky above the village cleared.

"We rebuild," he said quietly.

The Sister looked at him. "Kaelen would've done the same."

But Callen wasn't sure if he wanted to be Kaelen.

✧ Elira

She sat alone in the Queen's chamber, her wrists bound in silver light.

A servant brought her food. She didn't eat it.

The Queen had vanished—deep into the ritual halls, where Mireya's spirit was almost fully awake.

Elira closed her eyes.

In the silence, she heard something.

A pulse.

Not hers.

It came from beneath her skin.

She bit her lip and focused—and felt it:

A second rhythm.

A second blood.

Moonblood.

The Queen wasn't lying.

Elira had been born into this curse. Her mother—long dead—was the Queen's younger sister. A Moonblood who had tried to flee prophecy. A woman whose name had been removed from the records.

And yet…

Here Elira was.

Another part of the prophecy.

But not part of the Queen's plans.

Then the window shattered.

A shadow burst in—one of the Ancient Watchers, cloaked in starlight.

"Elira!" it called.

She didn't question it.

She ran.

And the Queen would not know she was gone… not yet.

✧ Mireya

In the ritual chamber, the Queen stood surrounded by old books and dying flames.

The child's blood had been used. The chants had been spoken.

The fourth locket hovered in the air, cracked and glowing red.

The Queen raised her hands.

"I call you—forgotten name.

I call you—sister of shadow.

I call you—Mireya!"

And then…

The chamber went cold.

The flames turned blue.

And the locket split in half.

From its light, a figure stepped out.

Not quite human.

Not quite ghost.

"You should not have called me," it whispered.

The Queen froze.

"I made you," she said.

"No," Mireya said. "You unmade me.

Now I remember."

Mireya looked up. Her eyes—one red, one silver—burned with truth.

And then… she vanished.

✧ Draven (again)

Draven turned.

He felt it.

A shift in the air.

The fourth name was no longer sleeping.

The blade in his hand whispered:

"She walks. She knows. She seeks you."

Draven breathed in deeply.

He did not run.

"Let her come."

And for the first time in his life—

He did not feel cursed.

He felt chosen.