239

239


Malrik POV

We reviewed the last pieces of our plan for the council, and that was when I learned Drethos had insisted on accompanying us despite his body not being fully healed.

I understood.

He needed to be there.

Not only as a witness, but as a man desperate to set things right. His presence wasn’t optional. It was necessary for justice, for closure, perhaps even for his redemption.

Zenovia’s fate was clearer than his. She was out of danger physically, but her road forward led her back to Ashflow.

Did Marzena ever share the true plan with her daughter? Or was Zenovia just another pawn, another piece tossed aside in her mother’s endless climb for power?

I couldn’t say.

And perhaps it didn’t matter.

I didn’t pity her. I only hoped she would make better choices than her mother but deep down, I knew I had been spared a noose. Had fate not intervened, had Dravina not stepped into my path, I might have been bound to Zenovia instead. Bound to a name that carried nothing of the heart behind it.

There was venom in her, I could feel it. Not as sharp as Marzena’s, but present in the way she carried herself, in the entitlement that clung to her like a cloak. A legacy of status worship running through her bloodline.

No. Dravina was mine. She had always been meant for me. And sitting beside her now, I knew I had something worth defending until my last breath.

When it came time to depart, we gathered in a convoy, security heavy, warriors alert. Yet the nerves pressing on my chest weren’t born of fear. They were born of hope.

We were about to step into the council and demand change a motion to tear down the law that legalized the hunting of Moonchilds.

I didn’t want that law simply gone.

I wanted freedom.

For Dravina. For Ansel. For Ysolde. For every descendant still forced to hide their bloodline. A future without shadows. A world where survival didn’t mean erasure.

As the council walls rose on the horizon, I prayed the others would see it. That truth, this time, would be enough.

The chamber was already brimming by the time we arrived. Every family head. Every regional delegate. Every vulture who wanted a seat at history’s table.

Word of Silverlight had spread like wildfire. It wasn’t scandal anymore. It was legacy.

My gaze cut through the crowd until it landed on Zebulon.

He looked calm. Collected. Not like a man who had been kidnapped, interrogated, and disgraced. But then, Zebulon had always played the long game. No bitterness showed in his eyes. Still, I owed him something.

An apology.

Dravina and Dashira slipped into the seats reserved for my delegation. Vladan, Ashuriel, and Tavian were already there, steady and battle-hardened. Few had earned this place more than they had.

At the center of the chamber, all attention coiled around two silver cages.

Marzena. Roarke.

Collared. Contained. Stripped of dignity. No protection left.

Marzena looked pale but lifted her chin like pride could erase her ruin. Roarke, however, was different. He scanned the room with calculating eyes, that unstable glint still burning behind them but the bravado was gone. The games were over.

I excused myself and crossed to Zebulon.

He met me halfway, already smiling. Not a shred of hostility in his expression. Only something unexpected understanding.

“I wanted to apologize” I began.

He cut me off, laying a firm hand on my shoulder.

“Don’t. You were protecting your own. That’s what men like us do.”

My throat tightened. “Still… I should’ve seen it sooner.”

His expression softened.

“You saw the truth when it mattered,” he said simply. “And you acted. That’s more than most ever manage.”

Then his voice dropped low, steady, sincere.

“We are family, Malrikarion. All is forgiven. I’m just grateful we stopped this bastard before he reached the unthinkable. Fiji would’ve been nothing compared to what he might’ve done… had he laid hands on Dravina.”

His gaze drifted to her, a faint exhale slipping from him.

“I’m glad she’s safe. And it looks as though you and Drethos have found peace.”

I followed his eyes.

Drethos sat apart, shadows etched under his eyes. His posture carried grief and shame shoulders drawn, chin dipped but his gaze… his gaze clung to Dravina.

Watching. Studying her. As if trying to convince himself she was real.

Regret. Longing. Fragile hope.

I knew those looks. I had worn them myself.

“Dravina,” I murmured through the bond, “go to your uncle. He shouldn’t sit alone.”

She glanced at me, startled, then followed my gaze and understood.

With a soft nod, she rose and crossed the chamber.

Drethos sat up the moment she approached, startled like a man waking from a dream. When she asked to sit beside him, something broke loose in his face not pride, not triumph, but relief.

He offered her the seat so quickly it ached in my chest to watch. And when she accepted, they spoke in quiet tones. I couldn’t hear the words, but I saw her blush.

And for the briefest of moments, something fragile and extraordinary took shape.

Family.

Reweaving itself, one thread at a time.

Dravina wasn’t only my Luna. Not only the woman who had saved us all. She was a daughter. A niece. The living bloodline they thought extinct.

And now?

The world was about to learn what that truly meant.