Chapter 72 Rogue Witch POV

Chapter 72 Rogue Witch POV
Morvena

The moment the realm opens, I feel it. Not through magic, but through him. The connection slams into me hard enough that my knees nearly buckle against the cracked stone floor of the abandoned chapel. Silver light flickers violently across the shattered stained-glass windows while dust drifts from the ceiling beams overhead. Moonstone is awake again after eighteen years. After everything I did to bury them. A sharp breath escapes me before I can stop it because beneath the power surging through the reopened bond, I can feel Callum. Alive and closer than he has been in nearly two decades. The realization cuts deeper than any blade ever could. One of Ashwood’s wolves looks toward me from near the chapel entrance.

“They opened it?”

I do not answer him. Outside, the forest trembles with movement as Ashwood wolves move between vehicles and weapons caches hidden beneath the trees. Radios crackle constantly with updates from the palace perimeter while distant snarls and gunfire echo faintly through the night air. Too late. We are already too late. Another pulse tears through the reopened connection. Different this time. Stable. Cold slides violently into my stomach. No. No, no, no. She stabilized it. The child I should have erased completely.

My fingers curl tightly against the stone windowsill as memory crashes through me without warning. Callum standing beneath the Moonstone cliffs with his arm wrapped around Elara’s waist while she laughed against his shoulder. The first time I realized he would never choose me. Pain twists sharply beneath my ribs. I loved him long before Elara ever arrived at Moonstone. Before she walked into our pack with sunlight in her smile and softness in her voice and every beautiful thing I was never meant to be. I was ambition. I was power. I was magic. Elara was love. Elara was beauty. Elara was warmth. And Callum chose warmth every single time.

“You’re trembling," a familiar voice says and I open my eyes sharply. Silas Ashwood leans against the far side of the chapel watching me carefully while shadows flicker across the sharp lines of his face. I hate him almost as much as I hate myself for needing him.

“They succeeded,” I say quietly.

His jaw tightens immediately.

“That’s impossible.”

“Clearly not.”

Outside the chapel, another howl tears through the darkness followed by the distant sound of gunfire from the direction of the palace grounds. Moonstone crossed. I can feel them now. They are not weak or broken. They are stronger. The realm changed them. That realization settles heavily into my chest because I remember the last time I saw Callum Voss before the barrier closed. Bleeding. Furious. Holding Elara while Moonstone burned around them. He looked at me like I was a monster and maybe I was. Idris pushes away from the wall slowly.

“How many made it through?”

“I don’t know yet.”

But I know Callum did because I can feel him like a knife sliding carefully beneath my ribs. Stronger than before and closer than before. Alive in a way I spent years trying to convince myself no longer mattered. The connection physically hurts. Idris studies me for a long moment before speaking again.

“You still love him.”

The accusation slices cleanly through the room a sharp, humorless laugh escapes me.

“You think any of this was ever about politics?” His silence is answer enough. Of course he thought that. Ashwood always believed power was the point. Kingdoms. Territory. Bloodlines. Men like Silas never understand obsession until it destroys them personally. I move toward the shattered stained-glass window overlooking the dark forest beyond the chapel grounds. The realm hums violently beneath my skin now that it is open again. Moonstone is crossing. Warriors first probably. Callum always prioritized defense. He is strategic and protective. Predictable. I close my eyes briefly. “I loved him.” The words sound ancient now. Rotten. “I loved him before Elara ever stepped foot inside Moonstone.” Silas says nothing. Maybe because he finally understands. Maybe because he does not know what to do with a truth this ugly. “I thought he would eventually see me. I thought if I stayed close enough long enough…” Another bitter laugh escapes me. “Pathetic." Callum never looked at me the way he looked at her. Never touched me gently. Never chose me first. Never loved me enough. Then Elara got pregnant with Sapphira. The final confirmation that the future I wanted would never belong to me. Pain coils violently through my chest again. Not fresh pain. Old pain. The kind that calcifies until it becomes part of your bones. “I didn’t plan to destroy Moonstone at first." That part is true. At first, I only wanted Elara gone. One death. One mistake. One tragedy. I told myself Callum would eventually recover. That his grief would fade. That he would finally notice me once she was gone. I was stupid enough to believe love worked that way, but Elara survived every attempt and Callum loved her more afterward every single time. Silas crosses his arms slowly.

“So you manipulated Theron into believing they were dangerous to the Elaris kingdom.”

“Yes.”

Fear was easier to shape than love. Theron already distrusted Moonstone’s growing strength. Already feared Callum’s bloodline. Already worried what Moonstone might eventually become. I simply gave his fear direction. A whisper here. A vision there. A warning carefully planted at exactly the right moment. I never even had to lie completely and that was the funniest part. Moonstone was powerful. Callum was dangerous. Sapphira would have become something extraordinary. Theron only needed someone willing to convince him extraordinary meant catastrophic.

“He was weak,” Silas says flatly.

“Yes,” I agree quietly. “But he loved his kingdom.” That was the difference between Theron and men like Ashwood. Theron sinned because he was afraid and Ashwood sins because he enjoys it. I move farther into the chapel slowly, boots crunching broken glass beneath my feet. The abandoned building still smells faintly like smoke from the old war years ago. I chose this place intentionally because it already felt haunted. Appropriate for the kind of woman I became. “You know the ironic part?” My voice is soft as Silas watches me carefully. “If Theron had listened to Callum instead of me, Moonstone probably would have remained loyal to Elaris forever.”

The truth tastes bitter because Callum would have protected this kingdom until his last breath if they had simply trusted him. Instead they feared him and I used that fear like a blade. Another pulse tears through the reopened bond. This time I feel her too. Sapphira or rather, Elowyn, the name Silas gave her. The child I bound and separated from her family because every time I looked at her, I saw proof that Callum loved another woman enough to build a future with her. A daughter. A family. A life. Everything I wanted. Everything Elara got instead. I hated Sapphira for existing long before she was even born. The confession sits ugly and poisoned inside me because she was innocent. Even then. Especially then. Silas walks closer carefully.

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

I turn slowly toward him. Moonlight filters through the broken stained-glass windows across the chapel floor between us.

“What happens now?” he asks again. I think about the reopened realm. About Moonstone crossing back into Elaris. About Callum standing beside the daughter I failed to erase. And for one terrible moment I almost want to surrender. The thought horrifies me because I am tired. Tired in a way revenge never warned me about. Hatred keeps you alive for years and then suddenly one day you wake up and realize you built your entire existence around wounds that never healed correctly. I could stop this now. Walk away. Disappear. Let Moonstone rebuild. Let Callum have his family back. The problem? I know myself too well to pretend I am capable of that kind of mercy. Because the second I imagined Callum and Elara holding Sapphira tonight after eighteen years apart something inside me shattered all over again. My magic surges violently enough to crack part of the chapel wall beside me. Silas straightens immediately. “There she is.”

I ignore him because now I can feel the truth settling fully into place. Moonstone survived me. Callum survived me. Elara survived me. And that hurts worse than if he had died. I step toward the shattered window again while distant howls rise through the forest outside. Moonstone wolves already fighting and reclaiming what I tried to take from them. My jaw tightens violently.

“No,” I whisper and Silas looks toward me carefully.

“No?”

I meet his eyes slowly.

“If Callum Voss wants his kingdom back,” I say quietly, “then he can watch it burn first.” Dark satisfaction flickers across Silas's expression immediately. There it is. The answer he wanted. War. Of course. Men like Idris always think destruction is strength, but he still does not understand the truth. This war was never about kingdoms for me. It was always about grief.

Outside the chapel, another howl tears through the darkness closer now. The battle is moving. I close my eyes briefly and let the reopened realm pulse through the bond one final time and for the first time in eighteen years Callum feels close enough to touch again. The pain of it nearly destroys me. I remember the first time he ever smiled at me. We were barely more than teenagers then. Moonstone still believed the world could not touch them. Callum had dirt smeared across one side of his face after training and blood dripping from his knuckles where another wolf split the skin open. I healed his hand for him. He thanked me like I mattered. That was all it took. One kind moment. One careless smile. And I built an entire future around it in my head. Pathetic. I hated Elara immediately when she arrived because she did not even try to win him. That was the unbearable part. She simply existed and Callum loved her naturally. Effortlessly. The way people breathe. Fucking mate bond. I spent years trying to become someone worthy of him while Elara never had to become anything at all. She already had his heart before I even realized I lost.

Another pulse tears through the magic stronger now. More of Moonstone crossing. I can feel their wolves. Their power. Their fury. The realm changed them into something dangerous. Maybe Elaris deserves to choke on what it created. Silas walks toward the weapons table near the altar and begins loading ammunition into another rifle magazine.

“You know Theron will fight now,” he says casually and I laugh softly.

“Yes.”

Because guilt always becomes bravery eventually. Too late to matter. Too late to save anyone. Theron will die trying to fix what he destroyed. Part of me almost pities him. Almost. I move toward the altar slowly before resting both hands against the cracked stone. The old Moon Goddess statue above it has lost half its face from fire damage years ago. Funny. Even their goddess looks ruined now.

“You could still leave,” Silas says after a long silence and the statement surprises me enough that I glance toward him.

“You’re giving me an escape route?”

“I’m giving you honesty.” He shrugs once. “This war ends badly for someone.”

For the first time all night, I see something real in his expression. Not manipulation. Not ambition. Fear. He finally understands what crossed through that realm tonight. Moonstone did not return weak. They returned sharpened. Forged. The kingdom buried wolves inside a realm saturated with lunar magic for nearly two decades and expected them to emerge broken. Idiots. I look back toward the shattered stained glass quietly.

“No,” I say at last because where would I even go now? There is no version of my life untouched by Callum Voss. Even my hatred belongs to him. Especially my hatred.

Outside, another explosion shakes the forest hard enough to rattle the chapel windows. The war is here now. Fully and irreversibly. I can feel Sapphira at the center of it all. She's stronger than I expected. More like her parents than I could possibly have predicted. The realization twists something ugly through my chest because despite everything, some part of me is proud of her and the thought makes me sick instantly. I tried to ruin her life before she ever had the chance to live it. I separated her from her family, bound her power, destroyed her future, and somehow she still became strong enough to undo all of it. Just like Callum would have wanted. Just like Elara would have raised her. My throat tightens painfully. I should have killed the child when I had the chance. Instead I made the mistake of believing suffering would be enough, but it never is. Pain either destroys people or sharpens them into weapons and Sapphira Voss was always destined to become dangerous. Another howl echoes through the forest. Moonstone is closer now.
I straighten slowly before turning toward Idris.

“Gather everyone,” I say quietly and his eyes sharpen immediately.

“We’re moving?”

“Yes.”

“Toward the palace?”

I pick up the silver dagger resting against the altar stone. The same dagger I carried the night Moonstone fell. The same dagger I intended to use on Elara myself before the barrier closed too quickly. The metal feels cold against my palm and familiar.

“Callum Voss has waited eighteen years to come back to this kingdom,” I say softly and magic flickers along the blade. Dark, violent, and hungry. “I think it would be rude not to welcome him properly.”