Moonlit Vows Of Vengeance

Chapter 126: The Cradle’s Reckoning

The air shifted again.

The chamber of her origin collapsed into silver dust, and Athena found herself alone once more. No Lucas. No light. Only the sound of her own breath echoing against the black.

Then came the voice. Not the voice of her shadow self, but something colder—older.

"Three fragments remain. You cannot rise whole unless you pass through each."

A door opened ahead, pulsing like a heartbeat.

She stepped forward.

Trial One: The Trial of Love Twisted

She entered a room shrouded in velvet dusk. Moonflowers bloomed along the walls, releasing a sweet, dizzying scent.

And in the center Kieran.

Or the memory of him.

He stood shirtless, his chest marked with the same sigils from their binding ceremony, eyes hollow, mouth stained with blood. He smiled, the kind of smile he wore the first night he swore to protect her.

"I loved you, Athena," he whispered. "I still do."

Athena’s chest tightened. "You’re not real."

"I was," the phantom said. "Until you chose him."

Lucas.

Kieran’s form stepped closer. His hand came to her cheek, warm. Tender. "Do you remember the promise? That we’d build a realm where no one could hurt you again?"

Tears welled in her eyes. "I remember everything."

"Then why did you let me fall?"

The scent of the moonflowers turned bitter. Thorns jutted from the ground.

"You didn’t just choose Lucas," the phantom said. "You chose betrayal. You called it survival. But you shattered me for it."

"I didn’t—" Her voice cracked. "I thought I was saving everyone."

Kieran’s image bled away, piece by piece. But even as he dissolved, he reached for her, whispering, "Who will you leave behind next?"

The room convulsed.

A blade appeared in her hand.

"Cut the thread."

The command echoed. The air grew heavy with old devotion.

She knew what it meant—cut the thread of guilt.

Athena lifted the blade to the space where Kieran had stood.

"I will always carry what we had. But I will not carry the blame you forced on me."

She slashed through the air.

The scent of rot vanished.

A door appeared, carved with the image of a broken crown.

Trial Two: The Trial of the Throne

The next chamber was a throne room—but not hers. It was dark, cracked, forgotten.

She recognized it.

A man sat on the throne. Cloaked in wolf pelts, his eyes obsidian. Around him, the ghosts of nobles murmured, all the voices that once called her unfit, impure, unworthy.

"You never wanted power," the man said. "You only wanted to be loved."

Athena didn’t answer.

He rose from the throne and walked toward her, chains dragging from his wrists.

"And so, you let others wear the crown in your heart. The priesthood. The court. Kieran. Lucas. Even your people. You gave and gave until there was nothing left of you but a vessel."

"I was trying to do what was right."

"You were trying to disappear."

The chains around his wrists slithered onto hers.

"Then take it," the man said, voice booming. "Take the throne, and become what they feared. Become the fire."

The throne blazed behind him, molten gold rising like lava.

Athena stepped forward.

She sat.

The fire licked at her skin, testing her, trying to consume.

But it did not burn her.

It bowed.

When she stood again, the chains turned to ash.

A voice rang out:

"Power is not given. It is reclaimed."

The next door opened.

Trial Three: The Trial of the Child

The final chamber was a forest.

Silent.

Snow fell gently, but the air was wrong—sharp, stale, familiar.

And then she saw her.

A little girl, no older than six, barefoot and pale, sitting at the base of a twisted tree.

Athena’s heart clenched.

It was her.

The child version of herself looked up, eyes wide with fear.

"They said I was dangerous," the girl whispered. "That if I touched the moonlight, I’d burn the world."

Athena knelt beside her. "They were afraid of you."

"They called me cursed."

"They lied."

The child began to cry, soft and broken. "Why did you leave me?"

Athena’s throat tightened. "I didn’t."

"You buried me," the girl sobbed. "You buried everything soft inside you. You let them break me and never came back."

Athena reached out, pulling the girl close.

"I’m sorry," she said. "I was trying to survive. But I should have protected you."

The girl trembled in her arms.

"I’m still scared," she whispered.

Athena closed her eyes.

"So am I."

A warmth spread between them.

The snow melted. The twisted tree straightened.

And when Athena opened her eyes, the girl was gone.

But her heart felt fuller.

Whole.

A golden stairway formed before her, leading up. noveldrama

The Cradle was ending.

But Athena... Athena was just beginning.

Lucas POV

The Cradle had been sealed for three days.

Three days since the ancient runes ignited, cutting her off from the world. From me.

I paced outside the boundary, fingers bloodied from clawing at the stone edges. The barrier shimmered faintly, pulsing like a heartbeat I couldn’t touch. She was in there Athena. My Athena. And I had no idea if she was alive, or dying, or being shattered from the inside out.

Every part of me wanted to break it.

But even I—beast, prince, monster—couldn’t breach the Cradle once it chose to close.

"She’s stronger than you think," Lira said behind me. "She’s not the girl who needed saving anymore."

I didn’t answer.

Because she was wrong.

Athena didn’t need saving now. But I needed her.

Not just alive—whole.

"I should’ve stopped her," I muttered, voice hoarse. "I should’ve dragged her out of here before it pulled her in."

Lira folded her arms. "You would’ve broken her spirit. That’s what everyone else tried to do. She has to finish this."

I turned toward the barrier again.

What if she didn’t come back?

What if the Cradle consumed the only good thing left in this world?

A sudden crack split through the silence. The runes on the stone flared gold—then deep red.

The ground trembled beneath my boots.

The Cradle was opening.

I stepped forward before anyone could stop me, hand reaching out—

—and then she stepped through.

Athena.

Her hair glowed like wildfire, not from magic, but from sheer presence. Her eyes—those fierce, tired, brilliant eyes—locked on mine, and I saw her. Not the shattered girl I once pulled from the snow. Not the broken creature who flinched when I touched her.

But a queen.

A storm.

A legend.

I couldn’t breathe.

She stumbled slightly, but before anyone else moved, I was there. I caught her.

"Athena," I whispered. "Gods, Athena—"

Her arms wrapped around me, weak but real. "You waited."

"I’d wait forever."

We stood there, locked in that moment. Her forehead against mine. My hands trembling around her waist. The scent of her skin anchoring me like a promise I didn’t deserve.

"I thought I lost you," I choked out.

"You almost did," she whispered. "But I found me first."

My knees nearly gave out.

I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to fall at her feet. I wanted to beg her to never leave me again.

But I didn’t.

Because something in her had changed.

She didn’t need my strength anymore.

And maybe... maybe I was the one who needed hers.

She pulled back, looking at me carefully.

"What are you thinking?" she asked.

"That I don’t know how to love someone who’s stronger than me," I admitted.

Athena smiled faintly. "Then learn."

The Cradle behind her collapsed into dust.

And the sky above us cracked open with light.

Athena POV

The curse wouldn’t lift until I chose. That was the binding clause in the relic’s message. My strength hadn’t been stolen—it had been locked by my own soul, protected by the divine laws I was born under. The gods had spared me through mercy and cruelty in equal measure.

Willing sacrifice. That which you love most.

I walked forward. The altar’s crystal basin pulsed in reaction to my magic, sensing my decision.

"Athena..." Lucas’s voice was low, raw. "You don’t have to—"

"I do," I interrupted. "Or this entire realm dies with me."

I touched the basin.

Images flared before me—flashes of my brother’s death, my mother’s fading eyes, the world as it crumbled when I lost my faith.

But then...

Lucas’s smile. The warmth of his arms. The sound of his heartbeat in the dark. Kieran’s quiet loyalty, his hand always steady, even when I wavered. The laughter Lira gave me when we rode into the storm. The loyalty of wolves who never asked to be caught in the gods’ games.

These were the things I loved most.

And now I had to choose one to destroy.

The basin trembled under my hand.

The magic was ancient and cruel—it demanded not blood, but loss. Real loss. No illusions. No tricks. If I chose wrong, it would devour me instead.

I felt sick.

"I can’t," I whispered.

"You can," Kieran said softly. "But not until you accept what you fear most."

I closed my eyes.

My deepest fear wasn’t pain.

It was being alone again.

The basin pulsed in recognition.

Tears slid silently down my cheeks. "Then take it," I whispered to the magic. "Take what I cling to most, my need to never be alone."

The magic howled.