Bound By Moonlight to My Mates (by Sofange Daye) novel Chapter 90

Chapter 90

Aelara

Some prisons are made of stone. Others are made of time. I’ve lived through both.

My feet brought me here to the ruins of the first temple. Wind howls through the broken pillars, and it chills my skin. Moonlight trickles through the ceiling onto the altar steps, like it is guiding my way.

I don’t remember how many centuries it’s been. Time doesn’t move the same here. It bends, it folds, it devours itself. The sun rises, the moon falls, and I yet remain.

The first Daughter of the Moon. Aelara, Keeper of Death.

Once, I guided the souls of wolves to their rest, whispering peace to them as they passed. I was the Goddess’s hand in the dark, until Tala’s rebellion.

Tala, the Moon Goddess’s favorite. Tala, who defied the divine. Tala, who bound herself to a mortal and

shattered the balance between Heaven and Earth.

Because of her, we fell.

The Goddess could not bear to destroy us outright. Not when our souls were fragments of her own, but she could not forgive us either. So she cast us down instead.

Seven Daughters. Seven prisons.

We were sent to wander the mortal world, untouched by death, unloved by time. Our divine blood kept us alive, but our hearts remained tethered to mortals who withered and died in our arms. Again and again and again.

I have buried kings. I have watched empires rise and crumble. And still, I remain.

My body no longer ages, but my soul… it rots. It begs to be set free from this place. This is hell on earth.

Tonight, the air feels different. The wind carries a scent I haven’t felt in ages. It is not the scent of a werewolf, but the scent of power. The kind that hums with the pulse of divinity.

I rise from the edge of my ruined altar. The shadows shift as I move. My feet make no sound against the cold stone. The moon is full tonight, and I can feel it watching. I can feel Her gaze, heavy and endless.

“Is this your cruelty, Mother?” I whisper to the empty sky. “Another century of silence?”

But then the silence trembles. A heartbeat echoes in the air, not mine. Too bright, too wild. The pulse of something new.

The scent strengthens, filling the temple, and I inhale deeply, wanting to fill my lungs with it. A spark of the divine, I thought, lost forever.

And suddenly, I see her.

Not here, but in the fabric of the world itself. A ripple in the veil. The Silver Wolf, reborn. Her light flares through the threads of creation, burning through centuries of decay.

I stumble, one hand gripping the altar to stay upright as power crashes through me. The ancient magic that binds my soul to this realm groans under the power.

She’s awake.

“She lives,” I breathe, the words come out shaking. “The Silver One lives.”

For the first time in hundreds of years, I feel warmth. It starts as a spark in my chest and spreads like dawn over frost.

Tears, real, hot tears, sting my eyes. I had forgotten what they felt like. My fingers reach up to touch them, but it only causes more to fall.

Across the void, I can feel my sisters stir. Seren, the Storm bringer, roaring in her ocean prison. Erythea, the Dream Keeper, whispers from her twilight halls. Even Nessa, Keeper of Flame and ever defiant, is blazing like a dying sun. Lunera, protector of knowledge, opens a single eye, watching to see what happens next. Vessra, bringer of new life, sings with joy, and Selara, the moon herself, shifts the light cast onto the earth.

They feel her too.

We are connected still, bound by what we were and what we lost. The Silver Wolf’s awakening pulls on those threads, tugging us back toward the light.

I drop to my knees. My hands tremble as I press them to the ground, feeling the heartbeat of the world. It is slow and uneven, but alive again.

“Can you hear me?” I whisper. “Daughter of the Moon. Child of two worlds.”

The wind answers. It carries her scent, fresh, wild, unbroken.

“Find us, Sister.”

The words rise unbidden from my throat, echoed by voices that aren’t mine. My sisters. The other Daughters. Our cries overlap, a chorus of souls that have waited too long to die.

“Find us, Silver One.”

The ruins tremble. The moon above us shivers, as though the Goddess herself feels our defiance.

“You can’t keep us caged forever,” I whisper to her. “You can’t hide her from what she is.”

The shadows ripple, forming shapes of faces half–seen, memories half–remembered. I see them all as they were before the fall, radiant, immortal, terrible in their beauty.

And I see her, Tala, golden–haired, laughing beneath the moon. The favored daughter who damned us all.

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