The morning after the battle at the Forgotten Temple was stained with blood and silence. Forests that once echoed with birdsong were quiet, as if the land itself held its breath in fear of what had awakened. The ruins smoldered in the distance while the Obsidian Keep prepared for what came next.
Seraphina lay unconscious in the Moonlight Chamber, her skin glowing faintly with the aftermath of unleashed power. Her pulse was steady, but her spirit—fractured. Not even Valara's fire or Lucien's darkness could reach her.
"She's trapped in the Veil," Valara said gravely, brushing ash from Seraphina's brow. "Between worlds. Between selves."
Lucien gritted his teeth. "Then I'll tear through every realm until I bring her back."
"No," Valara warned. "You might not find her. But someone else might."
Lucien turned away, frustration boiling beneath his skin. He hated waiting. Hated weakness. And this felt like both. But he stayed. Always, he stayed.
---
Inside Seraphina's mind, the Veil was a battlefield.
She stood on a bridge of mirrors, surrounded by fragments of her life—images of her childhood in the ashes of war, her mother whispering lullabies with tear-streaked cheeks, Lucien's first kiss by the frozen pond.
And then came the shadows. Twisting, laughing, whispering secrets too cruel to be lies.
From them emerged Lyssaria.
But not the same.
This Lyssaria wore armor forged of light and dark. Half her face reflected Seraphina's. The other half—shadow incarnate.
"We are not enemies," Lyssaria said calmly. "We are halves. Bound by blood, broken by fate."
"I am not you," Seraphina hissed.
"No. But you could be."
Lyssaria stepped forward, offering her hand. "You saw the prophecy. One soul. Three forms. You, me, and the one yet unborn."
Seraphina's heartbeat faltered. "What do you mean?"
Lyssaria smiled. "There's another. A child of shadow and fire. Our future. Our doom. And only one of us can raise her."
"No."
"Yes. She will tip the balance. And I will find her—whether through your body or over it."
Seraphina drew her blade from thought. It flamed.
Lyssaria laughed and vanished.
---
Back in the waking world, Lucien felt Seraphina's hand twitch.
Then her breath caught.
Then—she screamed.
He was by her side in an instant, holding her as she thrashed. Her eyes flew open—pools of gold and midnight. Then slowly, they faded to blue.
She collapsed into his chest.
"I saw her," she gasped. "She's part of me. And there's more. A child. A daughter."
Lucien's body went still.
"A daughter?" he whispered.
Seraphina looked up, eyes wide. "She said… the child will decide everything."
---
The Council was summoned. War strategies changed.
"If Lyssaria believes in this child, she will seek her out," General Ashar said. "We must protect Seraphina at all costs."
"She's already protected," Lucien growled. "By me."
But even he knew it wasn't enough.
Valara stepped forward. "There's a place. The Sanctum of Stars. Hidden even from the gods. If the child exists—or will exist—it must be seen in the Astral Pool."
Seraphina nodded. "Then we go."
---
The journey to the Sanctum took seven days through cursed woods and ghost-riddled plains. Each night, Seraphina grew quieter. Lucien watched her, feeling her slipping further from him.
One night, he found her standing by a stream, staring at her reflection.
"I don't know who I am anymore," she whispered.
He stepped beside her. "You're Seraphina. My Luna. The light I chose in darkness."
She turned to him. "But what if I become her?"
Lucien took her hands. "Then I'll fight for you. I'll chain the stars if I must. I will never let you go."
Their kiss under the starlight was fierce—desperate. And it marked more than love. It was a vow.
---
The Sanctum of Stars was carved into the cliffs of Nareth. Its walls shimmered with constellations. A pool lay at its heart, still and silver.
Seraphina approached alone, knelt, and whispered the ancient invocation.
The water rippled.
Visions swirled. A battlefield. A child with eyes like fire. A woman crowned in shadow and pain. Then a cradle—and Seraphina's own face above it, crying.
"She's real," Seraphina breathed. "And she's mine."
Lucien's arms wrapped around her. "Then she is ours."
But the pool showed more. Lyssaria—standing over the child, whispering.
A choice.
Seraphina had to make it.
---
They returned to the Keep in silence. Plans were drawn. Protections laid.
But Lyssaria moved faster.
Three villages were destroyed in a night. Children taken.
A message burned into the gates:
Bring me the Luna. Or the next cradle burns.
Seraphina's rage became fire incarnate. Lucien barely stopped her from flying to the queen's lair alone.
"We wait. We plan," he said. "We strike smart. Not blind."
But Seraphina wasn't blind.
She was awakening.
The fire within no longer whispered.
It roared.
---
She called upon the old spirits.
The Wolves of the First Moon.
Valara warned her. "Their aid comes at a price."
Seraphina lit the sigils anyway.
The spirits answered—howling forms of ash and moonlight.
They circled her.
"We remember your blood," one hissed. "But not your strength."
"Then test it," Seraphina challenged.
They attacked.
Lucien tried to intervene. Valara stopped him. "She must earn them."
Seraphina stood alone against six spectral wolves. Her fire clashed with moonlight claws. She bled. She screamed. But she did not fall.
In the end, she stood tall, her crown glowing.
The spirits bowed.
"You have the right to command the Pack of the End."
Seraphina turned to Lucien, burning.
"Then let's end this."