Chapter 23 – The Moon That Does Not Sleep

The forest no longer felt like a forest.

It breathed like something alive, pulsing beneath the soil. The leaves above whispered not with wind—but with warning.

Luna sat on a high branch, knees drawn close, staring at the distant horizon. The stars hadn't returned—not fully. Only streaks of light, like the sky had been scratched and hadn't healed.

She hadn't slept.

Not really.

Not since the sixth sigil blazed into her palm like fire and truth.

Down below, Riven and Zeph were quietly gathering supplies. Their voices carried softly through the trees. Familiar. Grounding.

But Luna couldn't make herself climb down yet.

Her fingers hovered over the spot where the new sigil had appeared. Still faintly glowing. Still humming, like a song without lyrics.

"Unity," Terranak had said. "But also warning. If this sigil has awakened before the seventh... the void is listening."

She didn't know what that meant. Not fully.

But she felt it.

Something was watching.

Something was... waiting.

---

"Luna?" Zeph's voice floated up, lilting and soft. "If you plan to turn into a bird, just give me a head start. I've got terrible balance and even worse wings."

She blinked, barely suppressing a smile.

"I'm not turning into anything," she called back, her voice rough with exhaustion.

"That's what all shapeshifters say before they turn into bats," Zeph muttered, loud enough to hear. "Come down. We've got dried apples. And Riven's giving lectures about survival. Again."

A small laugh escaped her lips before she could stop it. That familiar flutter in her chest—humor, lightness, humanity.

Maybe she needed that right now.

With a breath, she leapt from the branch, landing in a crouch beside them.

"Did you sleep at all?" Riven asked immediately. His eyes scanned her—calm but alert. Protective.

She shook her head. "Didn't feel like it."

Zeph passed her a small cloth bag of fruit. "Dreamless night or nightmare buffet?"

"Neither," she said. "Just... couldn't stop thinking."

Riven frowned. "The sigil?"

"And the sky. And the void. And what's coming next. Pick one," she replied, taking a bite anyway.

Silence settled between them for a moment.

Until Zeph, ever inappropriate at exactly the right times, leaned in with a grin.

"Maybe it's just me... but doesn't this whole 'chosen one with a glowing palm' thing feel a little dramatic? Like, no offense, Luna, but if I got a magic tattoo, I'd at least want some confetti."

She snorted. "You want confetti every time I save your life too?"

"I mean, a little sparkle wouldn't hurt. Maybe just once?"

Even Riven cracked the smallest smile. Luna tucked that moment into her heart. She was still capable of smiling. Still capable of living.

But then, the trees shifted.

No wind. Just a sudden cold. A wrongness.

Riven stood instantly, hand at his side, not even needing to draw his blade. Zeph froze too, all joking gone in an instant.

Luna turned, eyes scanning the woods.

It wasn't a beast this time.

It was a whisper.

And a shadow.

Emerging between trees—a man in silver robes, hood drawn. The symbol of the Cult of the Void etched across his chest in blackened threads.

But it wasn't just him.

Behind him... more emerged. Silent. Ten, maybe more. Their faces covered in obsidian masks, each mask shaped like a different emotion—joy, sorrow, rage.

But their eyes were empty.

The leader raised his hand. "Luna of the Moonblood. The Child of Collapse. You wear a sigil not meant for mortals."

Luna stood tall, stepping forward, her voice cold.

"Funny. I didn't ask for permission."

Zeph hissed, "Moonblood? What the—?"

"Ignore it," she murmured, then louder: "You want something, say it now."

The cult leader tilted his head. "You are being watched. The seventh calls to you. The void is a mercy, girl. The fire in your chest will betray you before the end."

Riven was already moving, silent as a shadow, sword drawn—but the cultists didn't attack. They were... waiting.

And that was more terrifying than blades.

The leader turned.

And just before he vanished between trees, he said, "The false kings will fall. And the moon will bleed."

Then they were gone.

Not a leaf stirred in their wake.

---

They didn't speak for a long time.

Even Zeph was quiet.

Finally, Riven broke it. "They weren't here to fight. They were... testing us."

"No," Luna whispered. "They were warning me."

She looked up at the sky.

The stars flickered.

And then—suddenly—they were snuffed out. All at once.

The sky turned black.

A hum echoed in the air. Like pressure.

And then—a scream.

Not from a person. From the air itself. From the earth.

A crack appeared at the edge of the clearing. Not large—barely visible—but deep.

The veil is thinning, Luna realized. The void is trying to breach through again.

She dropped to one knee, summoning fire—Ignar's flame surged to her palm, steady and strong.

But the void resisted it.

"Ignar," she whispered. "I need more."

"No," the flame rumbled. "It is not about more. It is about balance. You are pushing against a tide you don't understand."

"Then help me understand!" Luna snapped inwardly.

A pause. Then Ignar spoke again—lower, sadder.

"You are the only one who can bear the seventh. And because of that... the void is hunting you. Not to kill you—but to become you."

---

That night, they didn't set camp.

They kept walking.

Even Zeph stopped joking, though he kept to Luna's side more than usual, occasionally nudging her shoulder in silent support.

The silence became a fourth companion. Unwelcome, but present.

Finally, as the moon rose—bright and full, yet somehow still pale—Luna paused near a quiet stream.

She turned to Riven.

"Earlier, that cultist. He called me Moonblood. What does that mean?"

Riven didn't speak at first.

Then—very quietly—he said, "It's... old. A name used in lost prophecies. Not all of them evil."

Zeph raised a brow. "So, what, she's got void blood now?"

"No," Riven said sharply. "She's born of two converging forces. The kings' power... and something else. Something forgotten. Maybe... forbidden."

Luna stared at her reflection in the stream. Her silver eyes didn't glow—but they didn't look human either.

"I'm tired of being defined by things I didn't choose," she whispered.

"And yet," Zeph said gently, "you keep choosing to protect people anyway. That's what defines you, Luna. Not a name."

That stopped her.

Then, softly, Riven added, "And that's why the void will never win."

---

Later that night, after the others slept, Luna remained awake again.

The moon above refused to dim. It lit the whole clearing like day.

Her pendant throbbed faintly against her chest. Not with danger. With warmth.

She closed her eyes, whispering into the silence.

"I don't know who I'm becoming. But I'm still me. I'm still Luna."

The wind answered.

And just faintly, from somewhere far—perhaps not even in this world—she heard a voice.

"We know. And we're watching. The seventh awaits."

To be continued...