The queen's whisper

🌕 Moonblood: The Curse of Arodan

Chapter Thirty-eight: 38

The fires had barely cooled in the streets of Arodan when the message arrived.

It was not carried by bird or scroll. No seal. No words. Only silence.

At the top of the city's tallest tower—once a place of prayer, now a lonely ruin—Draven stood facing the rising moon. The Heart of the Pact pulsed beneath his tunic, glowing faintly, in rhythm with the heartbeat of a kingdom holding its breath.

Behind him, Elira climbed the final stone steps. Her breath was uneven, her face drawn. "You feel it too, don't you?" she asked softly.

Draven nodded, eyes fixed on the red moon above. "She's here. Or near."

They said Queen Valdara's voice could slip through shadows and crack a warrior's mind. That she no longer spoke with a human tongue, but with something older—something that lived beneath sound and behind thought.

And tonight, Draven heard it.

Not with his ears, but in his blood.

"Return what is mine."

It echoed through his spine like frost.

"Draven?" Elira stepped closer. "What did she say?"

Draven turned slowly. "She knows about the Heart. She wants it back."

Just then, Vaela appeared at the stair's edge, her face pale and her cloak heavy with mist. "She's calling to every sorcerer, every shade, every cursed creature left in this land. She's raising her army—not in weeks, but now."

Below them, Arodan stirred uneasily. The city wasn't asleep. Torches lit the narrow alleys and rooftops like constellations. From the palace to the river gates, people stood in silence, listening to something none of them could name.

"It's like the air's gone cold without the wind," Elira murmured. "Like something's holding its breath."

"We're not ready," she said more firmly, voice trembling.

"No one ever is," Vaela replied, her hands wrapped tightly around the hilt of her curved blade. "But she's coming. And we either meet her or hide."

Draven stepped toward the ledge. "Then we prepare anyway."

He raised his hand—and from the Heart, three threads of magic spiraled outward: one of fire, one of wind, and one of silence. They shimmered like smoke in the moonlight and raced across the city, unseen by most, landing in three forgotten places.

The first reached the buried stronghold of the Order of the Hollow Flame, deep beneath Arodan's western cliffs. Once sworn to the protection of Moonblood heirs, they had vanished after the Fall of Sorenth. Now, the fire reached their ancient bell, and the bell sang.

The second flew through the trees of the Ashbound, hidden in the deep woods where no sun ever shone. The wind danced around their sacred stones, and every wild creature stopped to listen. The warriors of the Ashbound opened their eyes, ancient oaths stirring in their veins.

The third vanished into the caves of the Ebon Watchers, an order of spies and silent monks who knew every whisper in the kingdom. In the dark, their torches lit with violet flame. One by one, they nodded—and began to move.

Back in the tower, Draven fell to one knee. The energy he had poured out left his skin cold and his hands shaking.

"You shouldn't have done that alone," Elira scolded, kneeling beside him.

"I had to," Draven whispered. "We need them all. She's not just coming for me. She's coming for everyone."

Vaela looked out over the city. "We don't have much time. Her shadows will reach us within days."

Elira helped Draven to his feet. "Then we stand. We fight. Even if we lose."

Draven looked at both of them. "No. We don't just fight to survive. We fight to end this."

As the moon climbed higher in the blood-colored sky, the first of Valdara's whispers floated through the city. Children cried in their sleep. Dogs howled at nothing. Candles flickered and went out.

But above all, something else stirred.

Hope.

It was faint, but it was there.

For the first time in centuries, the Moonblood heir had called the old powers back.

And they had answered.