Chapter 10 The Map Of Forgotten Moons

• Morning came in a pale hush, the dawn’s light filtering through the dense canopy of Heartgrove with an almost sacred reverence. Yet peace was fleeting. The revelations from the Moon’s Whispering weighed heavily on Meher and Ayaan’s minds.
• The Tears of Lunara.
• A mythical artifact whispered about in Garun lore, believed to possess the power to cleanse darkness and sever ancient curses. But the world had forgotten their location.
• Meher sat near the elder’s stone circle, tracing patterns in the dirt with absent fingers. The air hummed with unseen energy, as if the forest itself awaited their next move.
• “We need to find the Tears,” she murmured to herself.
• A shadow passed over her, and when she looked up, Ayaan stood there, arms crossed, eyes intent.
• “Ridhima says there’s a map,” he said quietly. “But it’s not written on parchment. It’s alive.”
• Meher’s brows knitted. “Alive?”
• He nodded. “The Map of Forgotten Moons. It exists in fragments, scattered across Garun sacred grounds. It’s said to reveal itself only to those whose hearts beat in tune with the Ancients.”
• Meher stood, determination hardening her features. “Then we find it. Piece by piece.”
• Ridhima joined them, leaning heavily on her staff. “To begin, you must journey to Akshtaal—the Temple of Echoing Howls. The first fragment lies there, hidden within its stone heart.”
• Akshtaal. The name reverberated through the air, stirring forgotten memories in Ayaan’s blood.
• “It’s far,” he said, eyes narrowing. “Beyond the Weeping Hollows. The land there is treacherous. And the Shadow’s spies infest its borders.”
• “All the more reason to move quickly,” Meher replied. “We’ve waited long enough.”
• Preparations were swift. Supplies were gathered, protective sigils woven into their clothing by Ridhima herself. Karan, still recovering, insisted on joining, but Ayaan laid a firm hand on his shoulder.
• “Your fight will come, brother. For now, heal. We need you whole.”
• With reluctant acceptance, Karan stayed behind.
• As Meher and Ayaan departed, the forest seemed to shift, parting to guide them toward their path.
• The journey to Akshtaal was grueling. The Weeping Hollows lived up to their name—a cursed valley where the mist wept endlessly, chilling to the bone. Whispers slithered through the fog, seductive and venomous.
• “Turn back…”
• “You are too late…”
• “The curse will claim you too…”
• Meher’s steps faltered, but Ayaan was always there, his hand steadying her, his voice a beacon.
• “They are lies, Meher. The Shadow wants us to falter. We move forward.”
• With each step, their bond pulsed stronger, a heartbeat shared between two souls. And slowly, the whispers faded.
• By twilight, the towering spires of Akshtaal loomed before them.
• Built into the mountainside, the Temple of Echoing Howls was carved from obsidian stone, its walls etched with ancient Garun scripts. The air around it thrummed with power.
• As they approached, a low, resonant howl echoed from within. It was not a threat—it was a call.
• “They know we’ve come,” Ayaan said.
• Inside, the temple was a cathedral of silence and shadow. Massive statues of Garun alphas stood sentinel, their stone gazes stern yet watchful.
• In the heart of the temple, a great stone slab bore an intricate mosaic—half-faded, half-glowing.
• “The first fragment,” Meher whispered.
• But as she reached out, a sudden snarl ripped through the air.
• From the shadows emerged wraithlike figures—Shadowbound, cursed souls bound to guard the temple’s secrets. Their forms flickered, half-real, their mouths stretched in eternal snarls.
• Ayaan stepped protectively before Meher, his claws extending, eyes gleaming with golden fire.
• But Meher placed a hand on his arm. “This is my trial, Ayaan. The temple’s magic responds to Seekers.”
• He hesitated, then nodded.
• Meher closed her eyes, letting her senses unfurl. The bond with Ayaan was her anchor, but the pulse of the Ancients guided her hand.
• She spoke the words given to her by Ridhima, her voice weaving the old tongue into a melody of power.
• “Vaayu ke kahaaniyon se, Chand ki yaadon tak—Mujhe dikhlao woh raasta jo bhool gaya sansaar.”
• The mosaic shimmered, the wraiths halting in their advance.
• One by one, they knelt, their snarls fading into whispers of gratitude, released from their curse.
• The stone slab cracked open, revealing a crystal shard—glowing softly with moonlight hues.
• Meher lifted it carefully.
• “The first fragment of the Map of Forgotten Moons,” she breathed.
• Ayaan’s chest swelled with pride. “One step closer, Meher.”
• But as the temple trembled, a new howl pierced the air—this one dark, primal, and laced with venomous rage.
• The Alpha of Shadows had felt the breach.
• Outside, the skies blackened unnaturally, the winds carrying the stench of corruption.
• Their time was running out.
• Yet in Meher’s hands, hope gleamed.
• The Tears of Lunara were real.
• And the Shadow’s reign would soon face its reckoning.
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