"If you're planning to kiss me, you should know—I bite."
High in the Mountains
Aurel stirred as wind whispered through the peaks. She opened her eyes to stars above and stone beneath her. The twin moons bathed the world in silver. No palace. No chains. Only open sky.
Luceris stood nearby, watching the horizon. His cloak shifted in the breeze, faint trails of light still lingering in the air around him.
"You brought me here," she said softly.
He nodded. "Flew us out before they could take you back."
Aurel blinked. "You can fly."
"I can now," he said. "When your power flared… it woke something in me. Restored what the Nexus took."
She sat up slowly. The memory of fire and fury still clung to her. Her breath caught, but she said nothing of the vision.
Luceris glanced over his shoulder. "You fainted after the surge. You channeled too much too fast."
She lowered her gaze. "I could've killed her."
"She would've let you die," he said plainly. Then, more gently, "But that fire—it's not just destruction. It's a gift, if we learn to control it."
He stepped closer, kneeling in front of her, his voice low and steady.
"There's something I haven't told you."
Aurel looked up.
"I crossed the Nexus to reach this world. After the Veilborn burned ours to the ground, it stripped away everything—including my powers," he said. "And the passage demands a price. One life, to cross the gate."
He paused. "My father gave his."
Her breath hitched.
Aurel looked down at her marked hand, the silver glow soft and pulsing.
Aurel asked, "So the Veilborn will sacrifice one of their own to cross the gate?"
Luceris shook his head. "No. The Veilborn are dark forces, and the Nexus would never demand their life. They imprisoned some of the Noctavellians—my blood and kin—to use them as sacrifices. The Nexus only demands two things: a pure soul or a human life."
Aurel's heart ached at the raw pain in his voice. She stepped closer, reaching out to gently place a hand on his arm. "I'm so sorry, Luceris," she whispered, her eyes searching his. "You've already lost everything… yet you still chose to protect this world."
"If we're going to win this war, we need an ally powerful enough to kill the Veilborn," Luceris said, his voice firm.
Aurel scoffed, her voice sharp with disbelief. "If they can shatter an entire planet and slaughter thousands of your own blood—how do you expect mortals like us to stand a chance against them?"
Luceris's eyes burned, not with anger—but with hope. "If the prophecy written in the Twin Moons Myth is true… and if the gods still live on the second moon hidden behind the Silver Moon… then we can win this. But only if they choose to stand with us."
Aurel blinked. "What on earth are you talking about?"
Luceris stepped closer. The wind carried his words like a whisper from an ancient time.
"When fire meets frost and night bleeds gold,
A girl shall rise, her fate foretold.
From shattered stars and silver skies,
The cloaked shall come, where truth still lies.
The gods in gold with silent eyes,
Shall choose the flame the dark denies.
And when the moonlight calls her name,
The world shall burn, then bloom again."
He looked at her, voice soft now.
"There's a girl in the prophecy of the Twin Moons—the one destined to save the realm from darkness. And ever since the night we met... I've been wondering if that girl is you."
Aurel drew back, her voice unsteady. "Why me? A girl from some ancient prophecy? I am sorry, but none of this makes any sense to me.
Luceris stepped closer, eyes burning with quiet fire. "If I am to speak truth, then aye—I pray that the girl foretold in the prophecy is you. For only then shall the gods of Nymbria rise beside us... and we may stand a chance against the darkness."
Luceris's voice softened, and he stepped closer, his eyes full of determination. "But first, we must control the power of the Moonfire within you." He gave a small, reassuring smile.
Then... a sound. Thin as breath. Sharp as a needle.
Like wind threading through bone.
A voice.
Low. Distant. Echoing inside her skull like dripping water in a dark well.
"Kill her…"
It came closer.
And closer.
Goosebumps prickled her skin.
The voice slithered behind her eyes, curling like smoke around her thoughts.
"Kill her…"
Closer. Crawling. Inside.
"Kill Aeria."
Since then, she kept hearing those eerie voices—though their meaning remained unclear.
For months, Aurel had trained beneath an endless sky—sunburned days, frostbitten nights, and winds sharp enough to flay skin. Time blurred into repetition: fire, breath, control. And through it all, she endured.
Gone was the caged girl from the dungeons.
She stood taller now. Straighter. The silver in her veins no longer wild, but waiting—shaped by will, not fear. Her hands bore scars, but her gaze was steel.
Still, the fire was only half the battle.
The whisper remained.
The mountains were cruel. No warmth. No comfort. Only wind that bit and stone that never softened. Aurel trained through it all, her Moonfire carving glowing scars into the rock.
"Focus," Luceris said, watching her with narrowed eyes.
She exhaled and lifted her hand. The Moonfire surged—bright, ravenous.
It burst from her palm, wild and untamed. Luceris leapt aside, barely dodging the blast.
"Damn it," she growled. "It won't stay steady."
"It reflects you," he said calmly. "You're not steady."
"I'm trying."
"Try harder."
His words weren't cruel, but they cut anyway.
Because he was right.
She wasn't afraid of the power.
She was afraid of what it kept whispering.
Kill her.
The voice haunted her, waking her in the night, bleeding into her dreams. Flashes of Aeria's blood on her hands. A scream that never reached her lips. She didn't understand why. Or what it meant.
And she couldn't bear to tell Luceris.
Not yet.
Not when she could barely keep it from breaking loose.
"Again," he said.
They moved faster this time. Sparks and silver lit the air. For a moment, she matched him—strike for strike, fire against fire.
Then the whisper returned.
Kill her. Kill her now.
Her grip faltered.
The Moonfire erupted.
Luceris shouted as it struck his shoulder. He hit the ground hard, breath knocked out of him.
Aurel rushed to his side. "Luceris—no, no—I didn't mean to—"
"I'm fine," he hissed, blood streaming from his arm, burning where it touched the earth.
"You're bleeding." Her voice trembled. "Because of me."
His eyes burned, fierce even through the pain. "That's what it wants. For you to lose control."
She froze.
"You think I haven't heard voices before?" he asked, quieter now. "The Moonfire doesn't just burn. It remembers."
She stared at him.
"What is it saying to you, Aurel?"
Silence.
"I…" Her voice cracked. "It wants me to kill Aeria."
He didn't flinch. But something inside him stilled.
"Then we figure out why," he said. "Together."
They stayed like that—his blood on her hands, her fire still trembling.
That night, for the first time in weeks, the wind eased.
Aurel stood at the cliff's edge, arms wrapped around herself, watching the stars.
"You did good today," Luceris said beside her, a fresh bandage on his arm.
"I nearly killed you."
He smirked. "Eh. I've had worse."
She let out a breath—half a laugh.
"You helped me control it," she murmured. "I owe you."
He tilted his head. "Then repay me."
"How?"
"Let me live. That's a start."
She nudged his shoulder. He grinned.
Then he reached for her hand.
She didn't pull away.
"If you're planning to kiss me," Luceris murmured, voice low and dangerous, "you should know—I bite."
Aurel raised a brow. "I'll take my chances."
Their lips met—soft at first, then desperate. It wasn't gentle. It was weeks of tension, sleepless nights, and stolen glances finally breaking loose.
He backed her into stone, one arm braced beside her head, the other trailing fire along her waist. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer until the world fell away.
The moons bathed them in silver. Firelight flickered along bare skin.
And when she whispered his name, it wasn't from pain.
It was surrender.
That night, beneath the twin moons, Aurel didn't dream of fire. Or of blood.
Only of him.
In the morning
Aurel woke to the scent of ash and cold.
Dawn crept over the peaks, pale light spilling across their small camp nestled beneath a rocky overhang. Luceris still slept beside her, one arm slung across her waist, breath warm against her shoulder. For a fleeting moment, everything was still—peaceful in a way it hadn't been in weeks.
Then she heard it.
A crunch of gravel.
Soft. Careful. Wrong.
Her breath caught. She eased out from beneath his arm and sat up, scanning the ridge.
The wind had stilled.
Too still.
No birds. No insects. No sound but that faint shuffle of boots against stone.
She reached for her dagger.
Luceris stirred. "What is it?" he murmured, voice hoarse from sleep.
"We're not alone."