My Sister Stole My Mate And I Let Her (Seraphina) novel Chapter 191

Chapter 191: Chapter 191 BLUE MOON

SERAPHINA’S POV

Sabrina’s words lingered long after she led me back toward the heart of the pack.

‘...every kindness, every admiration—it’s because of you, Sera. If you don’t believe that, you might miss out on something beautiful.’

Something shifted inside me when she said that. As if a door I hadn’t realized was closed quietly opened.

I had lived so much of my life in quiet survival mode. Watchful. Guarded. Expecting the next collapse before even allowing myself to stand.

But now... I’d left that behind, hadn’t I? Somewhere between my father’s funeral and this mountain air, I had stepped out into something unfamiliar, fragile. Beautiful.

And I didn’t have to fear it.

Alina murmured quietly within me, warm and approving. ‘We already survived. Now we learn how to live.’

So, as evening fell, instead of second-guessing each step, I allowed myself to explore Shadowveil with a lighter heart.

Preparations for the Blue Moon festival were underway. And it was going to be big—I could feel it in the air like sparks before a wildfire.

Laughter threaded through the training grounds. Children raced past us carrying strings of dyed cloth that shimmered faintly under the fading sun.

A group of men and women carved moon sigils into wooden discs. They dipped them in a dark blue hue that caught the light like water at midnight. Near a wide open clearing, I spotted older women weaving flower crowns—not with the usual bright colors, but with pale, almost silvery blue blossoms I didn’t recognize.

When I asked Sabrina what the Blue Moon festival was about, she was only too happy to oblige with its lore.

“It’s the biggest celebration we have. Happens once every three years and starts tonight.” She grinned. “You truly couldn’t have visited at a better time.”

She explained as we walked. How, when Shadowveil was still just an idea carved from wild hope, a plague had nearly destroyed them before they’d even built their first home.

How Lucian and Zara had refused to abandon anyone, even when it seemed hopeless.

How they’d led a desperate expedition through forbidden valleys, where they’d found a flower that bloomed once every three years. Its petals formed a dew that had miraculous healing properties.

“The dew saved everyone,” Sabrina said, softer now. “So they built everything here—this entire pack—around the valley where the flower grows. Zara named it the Blue Moon, cause it’s blue and rare. You know—‘once in a blue moon.’”

Sabrina chuckled. “She was very proud of her wit.”

And for the first time, at the mention of Zara, I laughed.

But then I looked around at the people laughing, working, existing in an effortless rhythm with one another, and felt an odd pang of sadness. After everything she’d put into this pack, Zara deserved to see what it had become today.

By the time dusk seeped across the sky, the pack house terraces glittered with lanterns shaped like full moons.

People trickled into the central clearing. A towering bonfire stood ready to be lit, the kind of fire meant not just to warm bodies but to call spirits awake.

Sabrina never strayed from my side, and soon, we were standing at the edge of the gathering, hands folded lightly, watching as Lucian approached the unlit pyre, a lit torch in hand.

He’d gotten absorbed in his Alpha duties that I had barely seen him since I arrived.

After experiencing his home—the safe space he had built for his pack—I saw him for what he really was.

Not just the powerful, guarded leader I knew, but a man who had poured his own grief into creating something whole. Someone who led not by command, but by care. Who had turned loss into belonging, fear into unity.

Lucian’s expression was calm, but there was something reverent in the way he moved, as if he were standing before history, not flames.

He spoke first: “Tonight, we remember how fear nearly claimed us—but did not. We remember that scars do not mean brokenness. They mean survival.” His gaze passed briefly over the crowd—and paused when it met mine. Just for half a heartbeat. Steady. Warm. Heavy with meaning.

Then the torch touched the wood, and the bonfire roared to life.

The first event, Sabrina had told me, was “Stories of Scars.”

Anyone could step forward—share a wound, physical or not—and the pack would simply listen.

A man with a burn mark halfway down his arm spoke about losing his mother in the plague but living on to raise his little sister.

A woman revealed a scar along her side from the invasion four winters ago, how she had believed she was too weak until she survived the night she almost didn’t.

A teenager, voice shaking, confessed the fear of never being strong enough, and received a quiet hush of acceptance when she finished. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

Each storyteller, upon stepping down, received a crown woven from that same silvery-blue flower—the Blue Moon. A symbol of healing. Of survival. Of being seen and accepted.

My hands slowly curled at my sides.

I had told pieces of my past—to Maya, Lucian, Judy, even in front of polished crowds at galas.

But this—tonight felt different. Sacred. Maybe because of the festival, or the reverence the pack offered every story.

So when there was a lull, when the silence stretched in invitation, I realized I needed to honor my own healing—and I stepped forward.

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