Moonborn Heir Novel Chapter 41 – I let out a shaky breath, forcing myself to look at her. “What if I’m not enough for him, Rhea?
What if…what if I never was?” Rhea stops walking, turning to face me fully. Her eyes are fierce, her grip on my arm tightening. “You are enough,” she says, her voice leaving no room for doubt. “You’ve always been enough. Don’t let your fears blind you to the truth. Kael chose you for a reason.
You’re his Luna, Talia. And you’re strong enough to handle whatever comes your way.” I nod, swallowing hard, though the knot in my chest doesn’t completely loosen. “I just wish I could see it — I wish I could see myself as worthy of being a Luna.”
Rhea’s expression softens, and she pulls me into a brief hug. “You will. But you need to believe in yourself first. And in fate. You’ve always trusted the path, Talia. Don’t lose that now.” Her words settle over me like a balm, and I nod again, though my heart still feels heavy.
We continue down the path until Grandma’s den comes into view, the small, humble structure nestled among the trees. As we approach, the air feels heavier, almost stifling. A strange stillness hangs over the den, and dread coils in my stomach. Rhea and I exchange a glance before stepping inside. The room is dim, the only light coming from the small fire crackling in the hearth. Grandma lies on the bed, her frail body barely rising with each shallow breath.
“Grandma!” I rush to her side, dropping to my knees as I take her hand in mine. Her skin is cool, her fingers trembling slightly as they curl around mine. “Grandma, it’s me. It’s Talia. Can you hear me?” Her eyes flutter open slowly, and when they meet mine, they’re filled with a love so deep it makes my chest ache. “Talia,” she whispers, her voice faint but steady. “I’m here,” I say, tears welling in my eyes. “I’m right here.”
Rhea kneels on her other side, taking Grandma’s other hand. “We’re both here,” she says softly. Grandma’s gaze shifts between us, a small, tired smile tugging at her lips. “My girls,” shemurmurs. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Don’t say that,” I plead, shaking my head as tears spill over. “You’re not leaving us, Grandma. You can’t. We’re not ready.” Her smile deepens slightly, though it’s tinged with sadness. “It’s time, my dear. My journey is ending, but yours…yours is just beginning.”
I shake my head again, my hands trembling as I clutch hers tighter. “No. I’m not ready. I can’t do this without you.”
“You can,” she says, her voice gaining a quiet strength. “You’re stronger than you know, Talia. You’ve always been stronger than you think.”
Her eyes shift to Rhea, and she squeezes both our hands weakly. “Promise me,” she says, her voice trembling. “Promise me you’ll always be there for each other. No matter what comes, no matter how hard it gets, you’ll stand together.”
Rhea and I nod, tears streaming down our faces as we choke out the words. “We promise,” we say in unison, our voices breaking. Grandma’s smile returns, faint but peaceful. She releases Rhea’s hand briefly, reaching under her pillow and pulling out a folded piece of parchment. She places it in my hand, her fingers trembling as she presses it into my palm.
“This,” she says, her voice barely audible now, “is the prophecy. Passed down from our ancestors, from Luanda’s Oracle herself. It was given to me before the War of Fangs…and now it’s yours. Keep it close, Talia. Let it guide you. Let your heart guide you. Destiny has a plan for you, my dear. Trust it.” I stare at the parchment, my vision blurred by tears. “Grandma, please,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “Don’t leave us.”
Her gaze softens, and she reaches up, brushing a tear from my cheek. “You’ll be fine,” she murmurs. “You’re ready, Talia. You just don’t see it yet.”
Her hand falls back to the bed, and her eyes flutter closed. A final breath escapes her lips, soft and quiet, and then she’s still.
“Grandma?” I whisper, shaking her gently. “Grandma, no. Please, no.” Rhea’s sobs break through the silence, and I collapse onto the bed, clutching Grandma’s lifeless hand as the weight of the moment crushes me. Tears spill freely, my chest heaving with grief as I press my forehead against her hand.
We weep together, the sound of our sorrow filling the small den. And in my hand, the parchment crinkles slightly, a quiet reminder of the promise she left behind.
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