Hades' Cursed Luna novel Chapter 319

Chapter 319: Songbird

Eve

My heart wouldn’t stop pounding. The boy I had held, the boy who had never said a word, had spoken.

And not nonsense.

He had spoken like he’d seen something. Felt something.

Something important.

Something real.

Kael stood slowly, visibly shaken. "This changes things."

I didn’t answer.

Not because I disagreed.

But because deep in my gut, a new thought had started to take root.

A possibility I had buried out of bitterness. Out of grief.

I swallowed it down like poison, but it was already burning through me.

Felicia.

We would see a doctor for Elliot’s condition and Felicia.

If I wanted to understand what was happening to my son—if I wanted to understand what was coming—

I was going to have to talk to her.

Whether I wanted to or not.

The next day bled in like a bruise.

My eyes burned from the strain of no sleep, lids dry and heavy, but I couldn’t close them. Not even for a second. Not after last night.

Not after his voice.

The memory of it had looped in my head all night—soft, halting, real. A string of fragile syllables that shattered the silence I had grown used to. Loved, even. Because it was the only thing about him I understood.

Elliot was mute. That had been a truth as solid as stone.

Until it wasn’t.

Now I had questions. A thousand of them. But none I could bring myself to ask.

I was just... glad. Glad he could. That maybe—maybe—he would again.

My chest tightened at the thought. Then, just as quickly, the guilt followed.

I’d been failing him.

Even before Hades.

I’d let myself believe that silence was safety. That because he didn’t cry, didn’t scream, didn’t beg, he was okay.

I should have taken him to someone. A specialist. A healer. Anyone.

But everything had happened too fast.

The Flux. The war. Hades.

And I had kept telling myself I’d fix it when it was over.

But now? Looking at his small back as he sat in the bath, arms folded over his chest, cheeks flushed from the warm water, skin fragile and wet and real—

I knew that wasn’t good enough anymore.

"I’ll do better," I whispered, more to myself than to him. "I swear, Elliot. I’ll do better."

He didn’t react.

He usually didn’t.

I dipped the sponge into the basin and ran it gently down his arm. His fingers twitched, but he didn’t flinch. He rarely did.

But then I said it.

"Last night... you spoke in your sleep."

His body went rigid.

The change was instant.

His spine locked straight. Shoulders drawn tight. His head, which had been tilted peacefully toward the rim of the tub, jerked upright in a way that was too fast, too instinctive to be anything but fear.

I froze.

"Elliot?"

He turned his face toward me—

And he was pale.

Ghost-white.

His eyes were wide, panicked. And then—

He shook his head.

Violently.

His hands lifted out of the water, sloshing some of it over the edge as he began signing frantically.

No.

No.

Never.

He glanced toward the door.