The Banished Shy Luna Chapter 72

I must’ve drifted off.

It didn’t feel like sleep—more like sinking. Like falling into something deep and heavy.

Hands ghosted over my skin in the dark, warm and endless, tracing every line of me. But they didn’t bring comfort. There was pain too—sharp, electric, crawling into my bones until I thought I might break apart.

When I woke, I could still feel it.

My whole body ached. My chest burned. The right side of my neck throbbed like fire, and my back—goddess, my back—felt raw, like claws had raked through flesh until blood bloomed beneath my skin. My breath came in shaky bursts as I sat up.

And then I felt them.

The bond.

Not faint whispers anymore—no, it was alive. It pulsed through me like veins of light. I could sense every one of them. Toren’s energy, steady but edged like a thorned rose. Talon’s—smoother, darker, but wound tight. And Tyson’s… his was wild. Untamed. Like lightning looking for a place to strike.

When I reached out, focusing on Toren first, the world tilted.

Suddenly, I was there.

Seeing through his eyes. Hearing through his ears.

It was like watching a movie I wasn’t supposed to see.

He sat at the bar downstairs with Talon beside him. The low light painted gold along Toren’s jaw as he scanned the dinner menu. I could hear the hum of conversation around them, the clink of glasses, the way his voice dropped when he spoke.

“We’ll need bigger quarters,” Toren said quietly. “A new layout. If she’s staying with us—all of us—it can’t be cramped or temporary.”

Talon sighed, swirling his drink. “And what? We share a room? A bed?” He smirked faintly, but there was tension under it. “You really think that’ll go over well?”

Toren didn’t rise to the bait. “We’ll figure it out.” He paused. “She needs space… but she also needs to feel safe.”

“Safe with us,” Talon muttered, half to himself. “Tyson made his move fast. Guess he’s decided he’s staying.”

Toren’s jaw ticked, his tone careful. “He’s not going anywhere. You saw how he looked at her. He hasn’t cared about anyone in years.”

“Yeah,” Talon said quietly. “Except he doesn’t look at me like that.”

Toren turned his head, brows knitting. “What are you talking about?”

Talon laughed, soft and bitter. “Forget it. You always were the golden one.”

The words hurt to hear. I pulled away from the link, heart twisting. I didn’t want to spy on them—didn’t want to hear what pain lingered there. I wanted them to trust me enough to tell me those things, not catch them like this.

I focused on Talon next, just for a second.

His line shimmered dark and smooth, but something underneath it pulsed—unsettled, dangerous. As I brushed against it, a wave of emotions hit me: jealousy, guilt, hunger. It wasn’t anger directed at me, but it burned all the same.

It was too much. I let go.

That left Tyson.

His bond was harder to find—like chasing smoke. Every time I tried to follow it, it slipped away, darting through my mind in jagged lines until I almost gave up. Then, all at once, it snapped into focus.

The first thing I heard was Elder Thora’s voice.

“Tyson, you need to let go of your hatred for your younger brother.”

Her tone was sharp but weary, the kind that only came after years of patience.

Tyson’s growl vibrated through my bones even from afar. “You think it’s that simple?”

“It has to be,” Thora said, unflinching. “This bond won’t survive your bitterness. The four of you are tied now—whether you like it or not.”

I could see it through his eyes now—Elder Thora’s chamber, dimly lit with candles. Tyson stood by the window, arms crossed, the moonlight painting scars across his chest.

“She nearly died giving birth to Talon,” Thora continued softly. “But that wasn’t anyone’s fault. It’s not rare for female mates to pass after childbirth, especially for half-bloods. You know this.”

Tyson’s fists clenched. “Don’t.”

“She was my friend,” Thora pressed on gently. “She loved you, Tyson. All of you. She would’ve given her life again for Talon’s.”

The silence after that was deafening.

Then, Tyson’s voice broke through it—hoarse, low, and full of something I’d never heard from him before. “She didn’t die from childbirth.”

Thora froze. “What?”

He turned away from the window, his reflection fractured in the glass. “My father… he withheld her pain medicine. Said she needed to breastfeed Talon first. She never got the chance. She—” His voice cracked. “She died in pain. Because of him. And he made me promise not to tell.”

The air around him pulsed with rage and grief and something far worse—guilt.

He sank to his knees, voice raw. “I couldn’t stay after that. Couldn’t look at them—at Toren, at Talon—without seeing her face.”

Elder Thora said nothing for a moment. When she finally spoke, it was soft and shaking. “You’ve carried that alone all this time.”

He laughed bitterly. “You think I could forget it?”

I didn’t think—I just reached.

Through the bond, I wrapped myself around him. Not physically, but with thought, with presence, with warmth.

His sharp inhale echoed through both of us. “Moon?”

My heart twisted. I’m here.

He exhaled shakily, and I felt it—the storm inside him easing. The hatred, the guilt, the grief—they bled out of him and into me. I took them. I locked them away inside my chest where they couldn’t hurt him anymore.

I’d spent years carrying my own pain. I could carry his too.

Tyson’s voice came quiet now, rough with awe. “She… she took it.”

Elder Thora blinked. “Took what?”

“My pain,” he said simply. “My rage. It’s gone. She took it all.”

Thora’s eyes widened. “That ability—Kira’s power—it's more than rare. It’s dangerous. She must not overextend herself, do you understand? The emotional strain could break her mind if she isn’t careful.”

I immediately pulled back from him, gasping as I sat up in bed. The connection snapped.

For a heartbeat, the world tilted, my body trembling. Then everything settled. My skin still hummed from the bond, but inside… I felt light. Peaceful, even.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and caught my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks were flushed, my eyes bright with some wild energy I didn’t recognize. I brushed through my tangled hair and found a clean shirt and shorts from the pile the twins had left earlier.

I was just slipping them on when—

Knock, knock, knock.

The sound was sharp, firm, echoing through the quiet room.

My pulse jumped.

I turned toward the door, heart racing, as the handle turned.