Hades' Cursed Luna novel Chapter 322

Chapter 322: Inheritance

Felicia didn’t answer right away.

Her expression didn’t shift, but something behind her eyes stilled, like a ripple freezing over in the wake of a thrown stone.

I stepped closer to the rune line.

"I didn’t come here for your war stories," I said, voice low. "Not for your madness, or your jealousy, or even your grief. I came for Elliot."

Felicia’s smile faded at last.

"What did you do to him?"

The chains creaked as she leaned back, but her eyes never left mine. For a breath, she was quiet. Contained. Then—

"When did he start speaking?" She asked.

I blinked. "What?"

She looked at me, unfazed. "Take a guess of the time he began to speak?"

I was tongue tied for a minute, my mind wafting through facts. By six months, children begin babbling, twelve months they say their first words, most of the time being either mama or dada. And judging by how quietly assertive Elliot was, it was possible that his first word was before the twelve months.

Felicia watched me closely—too closely.

I swallowed, voice thinner now. "Maybe... maybe ten months?"

Her lips twitched. Not a smile. Just a small, sick tremor.

"Three months." she said softly.

I went still.

"Three months," Felicia repeated, eyes distant now. "That was the first time he said something. He’d crawl into the corner of the nursery and whisper it again and again."

I felt my chest tighten. "He was crawling at three months?"

Her gaze sharpened, cutting right through me.

She waved her hand, dismissively. "That started at two months. Same as his teeth."

The silence that followed was unbearable. Children grew their bottom insiciors by four months. My heart rate had leapt into a sprint.

"What was his first word?"

"More like words?" A slow smile that told me I would like what those certain words were crept onto her lips.

I swallowed. "What were his first words, Felicia?"

Her gaze intensified painfully. "You know them very well. I am sure those same words haunt you."

My brows jumped into my hairline. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"My baby. Please, don’t hurt my baby." she mimicked, panick feigned.

The world collapsed. I could never forget those words, spoken from the mouth of Danielle as I tried to reach her through the wreckage of the car. But how was that even possible?

"Like he was telling the air. Or the shadows. Or himself. I don’t even know who taught him the words. But he knew what it meant."

A sharp pressure built behind my eyes.

"He wasn’t babbling, Eve," she added, and now her voice was almost reverent. "He was pleading. Like Danielle had been. Like he has heard her pleas even as he was in her womb."

I bit down hard on my tongue. Because I couldn’t cry here. Not in front of her. Not now. That child...

It was not Mama or Dada but the pleas of his mother as she thought she was being attacked. How would he ever heal?

"But that was not all that said that day,"

The lump in my throat hardened. "What else?"

"Please! Felicia, please, not him. Not my child. Don’t hurt him!"

The words from Danielle but this was from the muzzle Cam just as Felicia attacked her and took her son. "How is this possible?" I muttered more to myself but Felicia answered.

"Those eyes of his, always watching, weighing, calculating..."

"He is just a child."

At that Felicia laughed out loud. "Elliot is not just any child. That child sneaked in a bomb, put it on his own neck, making an hostage of himself so that even without a voice he would be heard? Which four year old does that?"

Felicia’s laughter rang off the cold walls—bright, hollow, unhinged.

"Tell me, Eve," she said, eyes glittering like broken glass, "what kind of child does that?"

I couldn’t answer. My thoughts were a snarl of grief and dread. The image of Elliot—mute, trembling, with that bomb strapped to his neck—flashed behind my eyes like lightning. He had used that to save me, to expose her.

"I’ll tell you," Felicia went on, her voice now low, conspiratorial. "A child who remembers. Who watches. Who calculates. A child born into violence and betrayal, shaped by it like clay on a wheel. But even that is not enough to create that... thing. He is an anomaly, like someone you know." She smiled.

Before I could answer, she spoke. "Hades. He is like Hades because of the flux."

The words landed like a blade to the gut.

Hades... because of the Flux.

And suddenly, the pieces began to fall. One by one. A quiet, horrifying click of clarity behind my ribs.

He had it when Elliot was conceived.

The Flux wasn’t just possessing him—it was poisoning everything it touched. It was in his bloodstream. In his soul. In his seed.

And that meant—

Elliot.

My lungs stalled. My thoughts turned to ash.

He didn’t just witness horror.

He was born from it.