Chapter 43 Five Moons Without Her
The forest did not welcome. It endured.
Twisted trees loomed overhead like watchful guardians, their branches whispering ancient secrets in a language lost to time.
Beneath their shadows, Sana moved carefully, one hand pressed protectively to her stomach.
Each step was a challenge. The roots tried to trip her, the winds tried to chill her, and the silence tried to swallow her.
But she moved forward anyway.
Since the shadow had touched her forehead and vanished, Sana had wandered through this strange realm, unsure where she was, unsure who she even was. But now, five months had passed—marked not by calendars, but by the growing flutter within her. Her child. Her reason to keep going.
She built herself a hut of dry sticks and moss beside a silver stream. She drank from the waters that shimmered with moonlight and ate wild berries that didn’t make her sick. Sometimes, the forest gave. Other times, it took.
She spent her nights humming lullabies she didn’t remember learning. And during the days, she listened—hoping to hear that voice again.
But the shadow never returned.
Not until the end of the fifth moon.
That night, she had awoken with a sharp pain in her stomach. Not harm—just force. Like the baby wanted to speak. She clutched her side, breathing hard.
And then, she heard the voice.
"You are not alone."
She sat up. There, standing just outside her hut, was the same shadow. Cloaked in swirling mist, featureless, eternal.
"Who are you?" she whispered. "Why do you keep finding me?"
The shadow tilted its head. "Because your fate is not just your own. The stars tied you to something far bigger."
She pressed her hands over her belly. "The baby… you said I was pregnant. Is it true?"
A pause. Then a nod.
Tears filled her eyes. "Why me? Why now? I have nothing. No one."
"You have yourself," the shadow said. "And the child you carry is not just flesh. It is legacy. Light born in the darkest season."
Sana shivered. "Please… tell me the truth. About me. Who am I really?"
But the shadow stepped back, fading.
"Not yet. When you believe in yourself, truly, without needing me—you will know."
And then, it was gone.
---
Far away, in the golden heart of Chandlok, the Queen stood before a map spread across her chamber table.
"All is moving as it must," Roshni murmured to herself. "But one loose thread remains."
She touched a red pin on the southern corner of the map—her eyes gleaming.
"Let her think she’s safe. Let her grow hopeful. It will make her fall that much sweeter."
Behind her, a trusted servant entered, bowing low. "The potions are ready, my Queen."
"Good. Begin the spread. Weaken the riverbanks first. Then the northern markets. She will have nowhere to return to, even if she tries."
---
Hatim had sealed the eastern wing of the palace.
It was quiet, far from the court’s whispers, the council’s opinions, and his mother’s chilling calm. Here, he was alone.
And drowning.
The walls were covered in scrolls and books, ancient records of magic, lost kingdoms, and legends of betrayal. He read until his eyes burned. Trained until his body bled. Fought until his fists bruised.
Anything to not think of her.
But he always did.
Sometimes, he would catch her reflection in the mirrors. Sometimes, her laughter echoed in the hallway when there was no one there. And in his dreams… she still came to him.
But it wasn’t the Sana he remembered.
It was the one who left him.
In his sleep, he’d shout at her. Ask her why. Why she had betrayed him. Why she had made a fool of his love.
And the hallucinated version of her always replied the same:
"Because you were easy to fool."
He hated her.
He hated that he still waited for her shadow.
He hated that he could still feel her warmth on the bedsheets.
So he built walls around his heart, higher than ever.
Hatim, the man, was gone.
Only Prince Hatim remained.
And he wore his grief like armor.
---
Back in the forest, Sana lay on the grass under the stars. Her hands traced slow circles over her growing stomach.
She felt the faintest flutter.
A smile broke through her pain.
"We’ll be okay," she whispered to her unborn child. "Even if the world doesn’t want us—we’ll find a way. I’ll find a way."
And in the skies above, two stars burned a little brighter.
They had been watching.
They would not stop now.
---
?? Author’s Note :
This chapter covers so much pain, right? Sana’s learning to live in silence, with only her strength and her child’s heartbeat for company. Meanwhile Hatim is burying his sorrow under stone, fire, and fury. And Roshni? Still plotting, still poisoning.
From love to loss to legacy — this was a heavy one.
Stay close, besties. The shadows are thick, but light is coming. ???