His Abandoned Luna Chapter 200

|| Lilac’s POV ||

The Nightshade archives smelled of old parchment and damp stone, the air thick with the weight of centuries. My fingers trailed along the spines of ancient tomes, each one whispering secrets I wasn’t sure I wanted to uncover. But the unease in my bones wouldn’t let me rest. Not after the black rose. Not after the dreams.

Aurora was safe—for now—asleep in the nursery under the watchful eyes of her guards. But the words of Endora still rang in my ears, “The shadows are stirring, Luna. And they whisper your daughter’s name.”

I pulled a heavy scroll from the shelf, its edges brittle with age. The wax seal cracked under my touch, unfurling like a breath held too long.

And there it was, scrawled in ink so dark it seemed to bleed into the parchment.

“The child of Nightshades who breaks the curse shall be the key to the witch’s ascension.”

My breath hitched. Aurora. My baby! A cold dread slithered down my spine.

“Lilac?”

I startled, nearly dropping the scroll as Alaric’s voice cut through the silence. He stood in the doorway, his broad frame outlined by the flickering lights. His grey eyes flicked to the parchment in my hands, then back to my face.

“What is it?” he asked, stepping closer.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. “We were wrong about the curse.”

His brow furrowed as he took the scroll from me, his fingers brushing mine— warm, steady, but I felt the tension coiled beneath his skin. He read the words, once, twice, his expression hardening with each pass.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” he said, but his voice was too rough, too defensive.

“Alaric,” I whispered, “look at me.”

When he did, I saw the truth in his eyes— the fear he was trying to shield me from.

“You already knew,” I breathed.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I found something too.”

From the folds of his cloak, he pulled another scroll, this one bound in black ribbon. The words were different but no less damning:

“The firstborn of the Nightshade Alpha and his fated mate shall yield great power—but it shall return to the witches, or doom shall follow.”

The room tilted.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “No, we broke the curse when we mated. The Goddess—”

“what if the curse wasn’t broken? What then?,” Alaric interrupted, his voice low. “It was about our bloodline afterall.”

but our daughter! What if she is cursed too!

My knees buckled. Alaric caught me before I could fall, his arms wrapping around me, but even his warmth couldn’t chase away the ice in my veins.

“She’s just a baby,” I choked out. “She’s not—she can’t be—”

“I won’t let anything happen to her,” Alaric growled, his grip tightening. “To either of you.”

But the doubt was there, lingering in the space between us. Because we both knew: curses didn’t care about promises.

A noise echoed from the corridor— footsteps. Quick, light.

We broke apart just as Endora burst into the archives, her chest heaving. “Lilac— Alaric— you need to come. Now.”

“What’s wrong?” Alaric demanded.

Her face was pale. “It’s Aurora. She’s… glowing.”

The moment I crossed the threshold, I saw it.

Aurora lay in her cradle, bathed in an eerie violet light. Not the soft shimmer I’d noticed before— this was bright, pulsing like a heartbeat. Her tiny fingers curled and uncurled, and when she opened her eyes, they weren’t the green I knew.

They were silver.

“What the hell is happening?” Alaric whispered.

I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. My baby!

Alaric stepped forward, his hand outstretched— but before he could touch her, the light flared, and a voice echoed through the room.

“We found her. We will claim her.”

And then, as suddenly as it began, the light vanished. The whispers were gone too.

Aurora blinked up at us, her eyes green again like mine, her face peaceful as if nothing had happened.

But the truth was written in Alaric’s stricken expression, in the way my wolf howled inside me.

The broken curse was not the end. It had only just begun.

Endora stood there in silence, her aged face lined with worry. Her silver hair was loose around her shoulders, her dark eyes scanning the room before landing on us.

“You’ve seen them too,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Seen what?” Alaric demanded, his voice rough.

Endora stepped forward, her fingers trembling as she reached into the folds of her cloak. She pulled out a single black lily, its petals unnaturally dark, almost shimmering under the dim light.

“The black lilies,” she murmured. “They are not just flowers. They are a symbol— the mark of the witches.”

A heavy silence settled over the room.

“Agatha’s mark,” I breathed, my stomach twisting.

Endora nodded solemnly. “They are used in dark rituals. A beacon. A call.” She hesitated, her gaze flickering to Aurora. “And a warning.”

“What kind of warning?” Ezra asked, his voice tight.

Endora’s fingers tightened around the flower.

“That the coven is near. That they are watching.” She looked at Alaric, then at me, her expression grave. “And that they have marked their next sacrifice.”

The air left my lungs in a rush.

“Aurora,” Alaric snarled, his canines lengthening.

Endora didn’t confirm it. She didn’t need to.

The silence that followed was suffocating, thick with the weight of what we all knew but couldn’t say aloud.

The witches wanted our daughter.

And they would stop at nothing to take her.