Chapter 88
Chapter 88 – The First Battle of the Broken Eclipse
The eclipse bled crimson.
Above the mountain, Selene and Valerian stood atop the hovering dais of broken stone and moonlight, wind tearing at their cloaks, the crown fused to Selene's brow gleaming like a brand from the gods themselves. Below them, the Crimson Order's army roared—an ocean of black and red banners, war drums pounding like a heartbeat of rage.
But none dared strike first.
The moment hung in the air like a breath waiting to be broken.
Then Selene raised her hand—and everything moved.
The army of the moon surged from the northern cliffs, thousands strong—wolves bearing the crest of the exiled clans, vampire warriors in armor kissed by frost and starlight, witches who had buried their names centuries ago stepping out of forgotten shadows.
And leading them were the Spectral Guard—the cursed protectors of the crown, awakened from death by Selene's blood.
Steel clashed. Magic shrieked. And the First Battle of the Broken Eclipse began.
Selene descended with Valerian at her side, their boots striking the battlefield like the final stroke of prophecy. The ground split beneath them as her power pushed through the earth, cracking runes that had sealed the Order's defenses for centuries.
The Crimson Priestess, now bound to Selene's will, screamed as if her soul were on fire.
"You shouldn't exist!" she cried, clutching her chest, the mark of the curse blistering on her skin.
Selene didn't answer.
She walked past her like a star on fire.
Swords raised. Arrows flew. Spells collided in skies that wept ash.
Valerian unsheathed his night-forged blade, shadows rippling from his body. Each strike he dealt silenced a dozen enemies. But it was more than rage—it was purpose. He was no longer a monster hiding in the night. He was the Night King, and she was his dawn.
Selene stepped into a circle of Order knights, each wearing blood-steeped armor enchanted to resist omega magic.
They didn't last ten seconds.
She reached inside herself—not just her power, but her memory. Every queen before her, every scream of the silenced omegas, every time she had been called weak.
The earth bent.
The knights dropped to their knees, choking on their own breath, as gravity collapsed around her like a nova.
"Feel what it's like," she whispered, "to kneel without choice."
They fell.
And she moved on.
Valerian caught up, a cut across his cheek, laughing like a devil who had finally found something worth bleeding for.
"I've never loved war until you," he muttered.
Selene gave him a wry look. "Don't love war. Love me in war."
He kissed her—hard and fast—and spun to throw a dagger of living shadow into the throat of a charging general.
From the eastern flank, the exiled wolves howled and began tearing through the outer siege lines.
From the west, the moon witches collapsed the river, drowning a battalion of Order mages in a flood of sacred water.
Selene reached the altar at the heart of the battlefield—a stone platform once used to brand omega children into servitude.
She stared at it.
And then she raised both hands.
Moonlight poured from her chest, from her veins, from the ancient mark on her back. The altar cracked. Then shattered. Then exploded.
The force knocked every soldier within fifty feet to the ground.
The silence after was deafening.
She stepped onto the dust and ruin, looked around at thousands of eyes—some fearful, some hopeful—and declared:
> "This is the beginning of the end.
Of the Order.
Of the crown you tried to keep from me.
I am Selene. The last curse. The first queen.
And I claim the world you thought belonged to you."
A cheer rose. Not just from her own army—but even from soldiers on the other side. Defectors. Those who had never believed in the Order's lies. Their blades dropped. They raised their hands.
A new tide turned.
The battlefield shook—not with war, but with change.
But just as Selene thought the tide was won, a deep boom echoed across the mountains.
Valerian stiffened beside her.
She turned. "What is it?"
He didn't answer right away.
Then, from the smoke and fire, a cathedral rose.
It hadn't been there moments ago.
It tore its way through space, summoned by blood magic so ancient even Valerian stepped back.
On the steps of the floating, blackened cathedral stood a man in white and gold armor—eyes burning red, skin carved with runes.
The High Templar. Leader of the Crimson Order.
"Selene," he said, his voice echoing across the valley without magic. "We were never afraid of you because of your power."
He smiled coldly.
"We were afraid of who you would awaken."
And then he opened his arms—
—and the sky broke.
A second eclipse split the heavens. But it wasn't a moon this time.
It was an eye.
A colossal, burning eye, peering through the veil of time.
Selene staggered as a pain not her own burned in her chest.
Valerian caught her.
"What is that?" she gasped.
His jaw clenched. "Something that should have stayed buried."
But it was too late.
The true enemy had arrived.
And the next war would not be just for kingdoms or bloodlines.
It would be for reality itself.
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💛 Ready for Chapter 89, guys? The second eclipse has arrived—and with it, the final prophecy unfolds.