Moonlight In Chains (Trinity and Asher) novel Chapter 136

**The Day He Forgot He Hated Me**
**by Evangeline Marrow**
**CHAPTER 136**

The morning light filtered through the windows of the packhouse, but it felt as though a heavy fog had settled over the place after Lupa’s departure.

She had left with little more than a small bag slung over her shoulder and a look of regret etched on her face, a look she made no effort to conceal. I had the urge to call out to her, to stop her from walking away, but deep down, I understood the truth of the situation. Her presence here was a complication we couldn’t afford. We needed clarity, not uncertainty.

Eryx had remained silent about her leaving, standing at the edge of the training field, a sentinel observing her retreat with an expression that was impossible to decipher. The silence that hung between them spoke volumes, conveying emotions that words could never truly capture.

Now, our days were consumed by relentless training.

From the moment the sun peeked over the horizon until the stars began to twinkle in the evening sky, we pushed ourselves to our limits, our muscles screaming and our abilities feeling raw and unrefined. Eryx was relentless; he drove us harder than we had ever experienced before.

“This energy isn’t merely about brute strength,” he explained one morning, as the sun broke through the lingering mist. “It’s rooted in memory. The power of the Eclipse is inherited from those who wielded it before you. It remembers the art of battle. You just need to listen closely.”

We trained in pairs—Asher and I, Gage with Arlo.

Whenever the Eclipse power surged through us, it shimmered beneath our skin, a dance of silver light intertwined with shadows. I could feel the rhythm of Asher’s heartbeat through our bond as we moved in perfect harmony, our motions fluid and deliberate.

Yet, there was always a heaviness that accompanied this power—a constant reminder of the burden we bore.

Lupa’s absence resonated within me like a faint echo, a persistent reminder of the calm she had brought, albeit briefly. Now that she was gone, everything felt sharper, more pronounced—a world stripped of its softness.

In between our grueling training sessions, Eryx tasked us with scouring the forest and the ancient ruins for relics—old stones, fragments of metal, anything bearing the Eclipse mark.

“They’re remnants of the first seal,” he elaborated, his tone serious. “Your ancestors utilized these to maintain balance. If the next Eclipse arrives before you are adequately prepared, these relics will be essential in stabilizing the power.”

That week, we unearthed two relics.

The first lay hidden beneath the gnarled roots of an ancient oak by the riverbank—a black stone, smooth and surprisingly warm to the touch. The second was found tucked away in one of the packhouse’s storage rooms, as though someone had intended to keep it close but had forgotten it over time.

Each time my fingers brushed against one, my mark pulsed faintly, a subtle reminder of our connection.

It was as if the relics recognized me, whispering through the bond we shared, finally acknowledging my presence.

Asher noticed how the relics affected me. “Are you alright?” he inquired one evening as we made our way back to Eryx, the relics cradled in our arms.

“I’m fine,” I replied, though the truth was that a sense of dread coiled in my stomach. The relics didn’t merely hum—they throbbed in time with my heartbeat, a rhythm I couldn’t ignore.

That night, Eryx summoned us all to the clearing.

The relics were arranged in a circle, their glow faint but palpable. The air around us shimmered, vibrating like the stillness before a storm.

“These are more than mere tools,” Eryx stated, his voice unwavering. “They symbolize the foundation upon which the Eclipse bloodline was built—sacrifice and balance. You cannot wield this power if your heart is not steady.”

Arlo’s brow furrowed in confusion. “So… we can’t feel anger?”

Eryx offered a small, almost melancholic smile. “You can feel it. Just don’t allow it to consume you.”

For a time, the night remained tranquil.

But tranquility within a pack is often fleeting.

Since Lupa’s departure, Rafe had grown disturbingly quiet. Too quiet.

He kept his distance from us, yet began to engage with some of the younger wolves. Whenever our eyes met, he shot me a sharp, icy glare that sent chills down my spine. I recognized that look—it was not one of sorrow or confusion; it was a hunger for power, a desire to regain control.

Dennis had noticed it too. He began assigning guards to keep a watchful eye on Rafe whenever he ventured away from the house where he was staying.

“He thinks I’m oblivious,” Dennis remarked one afternoon as we sorted through the supply shed. “He’s been trying to sway the others into challenging Asher’s position in the pack. He believes Asher owes him leadership.”

I frowned, confusion knitting my brow. “Owes him? For what reason?”

Dennis let out a dry laugh. “Rafe’s convinced that if Asher hadn’t returned for you, he would have been next in line for leadership in his own pack. He thought Asher would help him seize that control. He’s been bitter ever since.”

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