Chapter 45

Chapter 45


Chapter – The Rebirth of the Moon

The castle, which for weeks had been a tomb of uncertainty, was once again filled with voices, footsteps, and life. The torches burned brighter, as if they had been waiting for the presence of their Alpha to regain their intensity. Banners waved high atop the towers, proud to announce to the world that the Empire still stood. And in every corner of the fortress, a new air was breathed: the air of the return of a leader everyone had thought lost.

Kilian’s name echoed through the walls, the villages, and the squares like an unstoppable reverberation. Children repeated it in their games, elders spoke it with reverence, and warriors shouted it like a banner that restored honor to their backs. The pack, once unsteady, had reunited in a single pulse: that of an Alpha who had returned from death.

But while the streets celebrated his return, in the eastern wing of the castle reigned a different kind of silence: one filled with tenderness and anticipation. There, behind linen curtains and the scent of healing herbs, rested Abigaíl.

She had not been wounded in battle, but in something deeper. The pain of believing her mate dead had consumed her until she broke. For weeks she had refused food, pushing plates aside with a distant gaze. Her body, carrying new life, had suffered from lack of sustenance. The doctors spoke of fragility, of exhaustion, noting that it was not a physical illness weakening her, but the absence of her Alpha. And they were right: Abigaíl had been slowly fading because the bond that tied her to Kilian had withered with the news of his death.

Until he returned.

The first time their eyes met after that abyss of uncertainty, the entire world shrank to a single instant. Abigaíl had trembled in his arms, incredulous, torn between the fear of losing him again and the relief of having him before her. Kilian had marked her anew, reaffirming what the Moon itself had already sealed: that they were one, inseparable, even beyond death.

That night, in the intimacy of their reunion, she stopped crying. The tears that had flowed silently for weeks transformed into a restrained sob of relief. She had begun to breathe with him again. And from that moment, although her body was weak, her heart started to beat with new strength.

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The following days were different. Kilian made sure that nothing and no one interfered with his Luna’s recovery. He ordered silence in the nearby hallways, instructed the servants to attend her with delicacy, and asked the doctors to monitor every detail of her health. Yet it was he who spent the most time at her side.

At first, Abigaíl barely ate. Kilian would sit beside her and hold the spoon, murmuring patiently:

—Just one more, for us… and another, for them. —He said, gently caressing her belly.

The pregnancy, although still in its early months, already demanded attention and care. The doctors assured him the heartbeats were strong, that the life within her had not faltered, yet they insisted she needed nourishment to protect what she carried.

Abigaíl gradually gave in. First light broths, then fruit and bread. Her cheeks began to regain a faint flush, her eyes a timid sparkle. And each time she accepted a sip or a bite, Kilian’s proud smile illuminated the room as if it were a victory greater than any battle.

—It wasn’t illness —the doctors said with certainty—. It was just absence. Now that he is here, she will heal.

And she did. Slowly, but surely.

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Kilian’s time was not entirely his own. The Empire demanded him. After weeks of chaos, the packs needed direction, the court discipline, and the people certainty. Ian and Gabriel had already met him in secret upon his arrival, and together they had outlined strategies to restore lost stability. Now, the Alpha’s return was reinforced by daily meetings, councils, and audiences that returned order to political life.

Each morning, as he left Abigaíl’s chambers, Kilian faced the throne and the demands of the leaders. Nobles bowed with fervor, some sincere, others motivated by fear. Alphas of smaller packs came to the castle to renew their oath of loyalty. Warriors trained with renewed zeal, aware that the bond between them and their leader had been reborn stronger than ever.

Yet not everyone celebrated. Victor, hidden among the crowd of courtiers, clenched his teeth each time he heard the roar of approval that followed Kilian’s words. He had bet everything on the Alpha’s death, believing that in the void he could ascend. Now he saw his opportunity evaporate before a man who had returned not only alive but revered as immortal.

—As long as she lives, he will be invincible… —he whispered venomously, hidden in the shadows of the hall.

He knew that Kilian’s strength was fueled not only by the bond with his pack but also by his union with Abigaíl. Together they were more than king and queen: they were the living embodiment of the Moon and its guardian.

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Though the days were intense, Kilian always returned to the eastern tower at sunset. He would sit beside Abigaíl, take her hand, and recount the events of the day. She listened in silence, eyes closed, as if each word were a balm that kept her awake in a world she had almost abandoned.

He spoke of training with Gabriel, of reorganizations overseen by Ian, of plans to reinforce the borders. Sometimes, when fatigue overtook her, she fell asleep before he finished. But Kilian continued speaking softly, convinced that his Luna heard him even in dreams.

One night, as he tenderly caressed her belly, he whispered:

—I will protect them. You… and them. They will never be alone again.

Abigaíl, still drowsy, smiled and murmured weakly:

—Now I know it wasn’t a dream… You really came back.

He held her close, and in that instant, the weight of the kingdom became light.