A Warrior Luna's Awakening (Freya and Caelum) novel Chapter 79

Chapter 79

Silas‘ POV

+8 Pearls

“Mother…” My voice was low, rough. “I won’t be like him. I won’t descend into madness. And as you wished, I will never love anyone.”

Love destroyed her. Love turned my father into a monster.

This estate, the Whitmor stronghold, had once been her cage. My father locked her here, shackled her spirit until it withered away. She died clawing at the bars, begging to escape. And still, she was buried in Whitmor soil, bound to this house even in death.

My father never recovered. He bled his soul into rage, obsession, and bloodshed. His wolf became feral, unhinged. I remember his eyes–red, fevered, wild–aş he stood before her grave and told me:

“You are ours, boy. Hers and mine. You’ll inherit our curse. When you love, you will burn the world for it. When you’ll be stone, no matter how the weak beg for your mercy. Which ending will you choose, Silas?”

you

don’t,

His laugh still echoes in my ears, a jagged howl that crawls under my skin.

Neither, I swore to myself. Neither.

I turned from the portrait and descended the stairs, my boots silent against the marble. At the second floor, I stopped. Freya had just stepped from her chamber, a pale figure clutching shadows and secrets.

Her scent hit me–wolf, storm, faint ashes of loss. It lingered in the air, a thorn at the edge of my senses.

“Tell me,” I asked suddenly, my voice sharper than intended, “do you think I am capable of loving anyone? Or do you think I will never love at all?”

She blinked, startled, her gaze locking onto mine. There was a flicker in her eyes–wariness, but also something else. Something that made my wolf shift beneath my skin.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked softly.

“Answer me.” My tone left no room for escape. “Will I love? Or will I never love?”

Her lips pressed together before she said, “That isn’t for me to judge. Only you can decide whom you love—or if you love no

one”

My wolf snarled at the evasion, but I pressed, my words colder. “And what about you, Freya? You once loved Caelum Grafton, didn’t you? Yet you cut him away, clean as a blade, when the Lunar Severance Phase came. If it was truly love, wouldn’t you have clawed your way to him no matter the cost?”

Her jaw tightened. “Even if I love someone, if he does not return it, I will leave. Love is not chains. And as for Caelum… whatever I felt for him, it is gone. He is not the one I want to love.”

Something in her voice was unshakable, a quiet fire. My curiosity pricked deeper. “Then what sort of male do love?”

you

want to

Her words were foreign to me, alien. Her vision of love was nothing but weakness. And yet, my chest tightened as she spoke, because my mother had never known that kind of bond. My father had never given it.

“I don’t believe such wolves exist.” I muttered.

“My parents were like that,” she said firmly. “Arthur Thorne and Myra–my father and mother. They stood together through everything, even in death. They loved each other truly.” Her eyes glistened with the memory, but her lips curved upward in

Her truth cut me, because it stood in perfect defiance of everything I had lived. My parents had been ruin and fire. Hers had

12:53 PM P

That night, after dinner, I returned to my quarters. I had begun unfastening my belt when I heard the door creak open. I froze, turning my head.

She had stumbled into my chamber through the adjoining door. The one that connected our rooms. She froze, too, but her eyes caught on the scars etched across my back–ribbons of battles fought, wounds carved by claw and steel.

Oh,” she breathed. She didn’t turn away. She stared.

The silence stretched until my patience snapped. “How long do you intend to stare?” I growled.

Her body jolted. “Ah–sorry!” She turned quickly, her cheeks flushed, but I’d already seen the way her gaze lingered.

I pulled on my shirt with deliberate slowness, letting the fabric cover the map of scars, and crossed the space between us. “I should have warned you. The door connects our rooms. You can keep your side locked if you wish, though I will leave mine open. If danger comes…” My eyes narrowed as I let the words hang. “…you can rush in. Protect me.”

The irony wasn’t lost on either of us.

She coughed awkwardly, her voice flustered. “Of course. Then I’ll go back now.”

But as she moved to slip away, I braced my palm against the door, blocking her path. My eyes pinned hers, unyielding.

“You saw it, didn’t you?” I asked.

She tilted her head, pretending not to understand. “Saw what?”

“My body. The scars.”

She faltered under my stare, the color in her cheeks deepening. For a soldier, she should have been used to seeing bare skin, battered wolves, blood. And yet–her heartbeat told me this was different,

And I realized mine was no calmer.