Chapter 87: Rogue

The night sky burned silver.

From the balcony of Mount Pleasant, the moon loomed closer than ever—vast, swollen, alive. The air felt different tonight, heavier somehow, as if the world itself had tilted off balance.

I stood there in silence, the twins asleep in their cribs behind me. Their soft breathing was the only sound that soothed the chaos in my chest. But the moment I looked up at the sky, peace slipped away like mist.

The moon wasn’t just full—it was changing. Dark shadows bled slowly across its surface, the earliest signs of an eclipse. My heart thudded once, twice, then faster.

“It’s starting,” I whispered.

Behind me, I heard Kevin’s low growl before he even spoke. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

I didn’t turn around. “I couldn’t sleep.”

He came up beside me, shirtless, his skin catching the faint moonlight, muscles tense. “Neither could I.”

His eyes went to the sky, then down to me. “It’s not time yet.”

“Kael said the signs would come early,” I murmured. “The air, the pull of the moon—he was right.”

Kevin clenched his jaw. “Kael says a lot of things. That doesn’t mean he’s right about the price.”

My breath hitched. “You mean the part where I die?”

He flinched. “Don’t say that.”

I faced him then, meeting his gaze. “Kevin, I can feel it. The energy keeps building inside me—like it’s waiting for something. It’s not just the twins. It’s the moon itself. It’s calling to them.”

His hand came up, gripping my chin gently. “Then we’ll find a way to stop it before it takes you. I’m not losing you, Molly. Neither of us are.”

His words were fierce but heavy with fear. And though I wanted to believe him, part of me knew—some things couldn’t be stopped. Only faced.

From inside the room, a faint cry broke the silence. One of the babies.

Kevin turned, already moving toward the nursery. I followed, my heartbeat quickening. But when we entered, both twins were awake—eyes wide open, glowing faintly with light that didn’t belong to this world.

Kelvin was already there, standing frozen beside the cribs. “They… woke at the same time,” he said quietly. “And then—this.”

The light pulsed brighter, threads of silver wrapping around their tiny forms like protective halos. I stepped closer, unable to look away.

“They’re reacting to the moon,” I whispered.

Kevin’s hand hovered protectively near their crib. “Or it’s reacting to them.”

For a moment, everything was still—then the floor trembled. A low rumble rolled through the walls, faint but unmistakable.

Kelvin looked toward the window. “That wasn’t just wind.”

Before we could move, the door burst open. One of the guards stumbled in, panting. “Alphas—Luna—there’s movement beyond the ridge. A whole group, moving fast.”

Kevin cursed under his breath. “How many?”

“Too many. They’re not rogues… they’re something else.”

Kelvin growled. “Get everyone inside. Double the wards.”

The guard nodded and ran.

I turned back to the twins, whose glow had dimmed but not faded. “They can sense it too,” I said softly. “Whatever’s coming—it’s after them.”

Kevin took my arm. “You and the twins stay here. No arguments.”

“I’m not hiding while you—”

He cut me off with a look. “Please, Molly. Just this once.”

The plea in his voice made my chest ache. So I nodded, even though my instincts screamed otherwise.

The twins’ eyes fluttered shut again as he and Kelvin left. The room felt too big, too still without them. I paced, listening to the faint thuds of footsteps and the occasional barked order echoing downstairs.

Minutes passed. Then a noise—soft, almost imperceptible—slipped through the air.

A whisper.

I froze.

It came from the corner, where the moonlight hit the wall in a pale beam. The shadows there were darker than they should’ve been—shifting, almost breathing.

“Who’s there?” I demanded.

No reply.

But then the shadows twisted—and out of them stepped a figure I hadn’t seen in months.

Kael.

Only he didn’t look the same. His face was paler, his eyes brighter, and the moonlight bent around him like it recognized him.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I said, backing toward the cribs.

“I told you the eclipse would come,” he said quietly. “And now it’s begun.”

“You said the choice would be mine.”

“It still is.”

I shook my head. “You mean I have to die for them to live.”

He didn’t answer—just looked toward the twins. “They’re not just your children, Molly. They’re the balance reborn. The moon split her blessing between them—light and shadow, creation and destruction. When the eclipse completes, one will inherit the power to heal, the other to destroy.”

My stomach twisted. “You’re saying one of them will be good—and one evil?”

He met my eyes. “No child is born evil. But power without guidance can twist the heart. You have to choose which one carries the light before the eclipse ends.”

I shook my head, tears stinging my eyes. “I can’t choose between my children.”

“You must,” Kael said softly. “Or the moon will decide for you—and she is not merciful.”

Before I could speak again, a roar split the night.

Not from outside—but from below.

I ran to the window. Fire flickered at the edge of the forest, the wards glowing faintly as figures surged against them. Rogues—hundreds of them. And leading them, at the front of the horde, was something far worse.

A man cloaked in shadow, his eyes burning red like dying coals.

The Rogue King.

My heart lurched. “No…”

Kael’s expression darkened. “He’s found them.”

I turned back to the twins. They were glowing brighter again, tiny fists clenched, light spilling from their skin in waves. The air hummed.

Kael reached for me, voice sharp. “If the King reaches this house before the eclipse ends, he’ll take them. You can’t let that happen.”

“Then help us!” I shouted.

He hesitated, then nodded once. “I’ll hold him back. But when the moon turns red, the choice must be made. Remember that.”

And before I could stop him, he vanished—dissolving into light.

Downstairs, the sound of battle exploded—howls, shouts, crashing wood.

Kevin’s voice roared through the chaos: “Protect the Luna!”

I grabbed the dagger from the wall and turned toward the door just as it burst open. Kelvin stumbled in, blood streaked across his arm.

“They’re breaking through the wards!” he panted. “Molly—”

Then he froze, seeing the twins’ glow. His eyes widened. “It’s starting.”

I nodded, voice shaking. “Kael said I have to choose. One carries light—the other darkness.”

Kelvin’s face went white. “No. You’re not choosing between them. We’ll find another way.”

The ground shook again. From below came a crash like thunder.

Kevin’s voice shouted up the stairs: “Kelvin! Molly! Get out now!”

But it was too late.

The moon turned blood-red.

Light flooded the nursery, blinding in its brilliance. The twins cried out—one with a sound like breaking glass, the other like a whisper of wind. The air pulsed, filled with energy too vast for the room to hold.

Kelvin shielded me with his body as the world split apart in a shockwave of silver light.

And in that moment, I saw it—one twin’s eyes glowing gold, the other dark as shadow.

Light and night, born of the same blood.

The prophecy was real.

And the eclipse had only just begun.