Bound By Moonlight to My Mates (by Sofange Daye) novel Chapter 92

Aelara

Dawn spills gold through the forest canopy, and I turn my attention to the sky. I haven’t seen a sunrise outside the temple in hundreds of years, and I hate it. It’s too bright. Too alive.

Behind me, the mortal snores. Caleb. That’s what he called himself.

He’d insisted on following me until exhaustion finally dragged him to sleep beside the fire. I should’ve left him there hours ago. I could have. Yet each time I tried, something stopped me. A faint hum in my chest, the echo of his heartbeat tangled with mine.

It wouldn’t be the first time the Moon Goddess has cursed me with a mate, but I will make sure it is the last.

Now, as the first light creeps over his face, I study him. The mortals I remember never looked like this. He is too young, too brave, too foolish to fear death, but gods be damned, he is handsome.

He stirs, sensing me watching, and mutters, “You’re still here.”

“Unfortunate, isn’t it?”

He grins sleepily. “I was starting to think you were a dream.”

“Dreams don’t wish to kill you in your sleep.”

He pushes himself up on an elbow, eyes glinting. “Maybe I’m the dream, then.”

“You talk too much for a dream.”

He shrugs, unfazed. “And you’re too beautiful to be real.”

I roll my eyes. “Flattery won’t save you from the cold depths of my heart.”

He laughs, low and easy, and for a moment it sounds like sunlight. I hate that sound. It doesn’t belong in the mouth of someone who will die.

I turn away, gathering my cloak. “We part ways here.”

“You mean you’re leaving me?”

“Yes.”

He stands, rubbing a hand over his neck. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Your opinion isn’t required.”

He steps closer, and something about his movement makes my pulse skip. “You said you were going to find someone. The Silver Wolf, right?”

I stiffen. “How do you know that name?”

“I heard your voice last night,” he says quietly. “When I was half–dead. You said she could end this. End what?”

I ignore the question, brushing past him. “Go home, Caleb.”

“I don’t have one.”

That stops me. I glance back. His expression is simple, honest. There’s no manipulation in it. “Then find one that doesn’t lead to me.”

“I told you. I’m not letting you walk into this alone.”

“Do you always ignore warnings from divine beings?”

He grins faintly. “You’re divine?”

The question is teasing, but I hear the undercurrent of belief beneath it. I hate that too. “Once,” I answer. “Now I’m a remnant of what once was.”

“Then maybe you need someone real to keep you from turning into smoke.”

“Mortals don’t keep me tethered, Caleb. They break me, and I am tired of being broken.”

He steps closer again, and the light catches his face, and I groan. He is too bright, too perfect. Something shifts in my perception, and I realize what’s been bothering me since he arrived.

He casts no shadow.

I look down at the frost between us. My silhouette stretches long and dark, but the ground behind him is bare. Empty.

“Where is your shadow?” I whisper.

He blinks. “What?”

I circle him slowly, my senses sharpening. “The fire last night. The sunrise now. You don’t cast one.”

He turns, following my gaze, confusion flashing across his features. “I… never noticed.”

Of course, he hasn’t. Few cursed things recognize their chains.

I reach out, catching his wrist. The touch sends a shock through both of us, a hum of recognition, divine answering divine. “What are you?”

He shakes his head. “I’m just… me”

“No mortal walks without a shadow.” My grip tightens. “No mortal survives a death wound healed by my hands.”

He flinches, but doesn’t pull away. “I don’t know what I am, Aelara. I woke up three years ago in a burned–out

monastery with no memory before that. All I know is people have been hunting me ever since. They call me Moon–Born.”

The words twist in my chest. “Moon–Born,” I repeat softly. “You shouldn’t exist.”

He meets my eyes, unafraid. “Apparently, neither should you.”

The silence between us crackles. There’s no fear in him. Only a steady, stubborn faith that makes me want to shake him. Or maybe, for the first time in centuries, believe him.

“You’re not coming with me,” I say at last.

He folds his arms. “Then you’ll have to kill me to stop me.”

I stare at him for a long moment, then sigh. “You’ll regret saying that.”

“Maybe. But at least I’ll regret it beside you.”

I turn away, but he follows as I knew he would. His steps are light, but not cautious. He’s comfortable in danger in the way only people who’ve already died once can be.

As the forest thins, the ruins of a forgotten city rise from the mist, broken towers and collapsed domes, all wrapped in vines. Once, I might have called this place beautiful. Now it feels like a graveyard of gods.

Caleb walks beside me in silence for a while before asking, “What happened here?”

“The same thing that always happens,” I say. “Mortals build altars, then forget who they’re for.”

“Do you hate them for it?”

“No,” I admit. “I envy them. Forgetting is a mercy.”

He glances at me, expression softening. “Then maybe it’s not so bad that I can’t remember anything.”

For a heartbeat, the air warms. His presence feels… grounding. Dangerous. Like the first breath after drowning.

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