Chapter Three: Trial of the Moonbind
Liora awoke to soft bells ringing beyond her chamber's towering windows. A delicate lavender dawn painted the sky, but the chill in the air was sharp—as though the castle itself sensed what the day would bring.
Today was the Rite. The Trial of the Moonbind. A ceremony spoken of in whispers, in stories only told when the candles burned low.
She rose from the velvet-laced bed and walked toward the mirror. Her nightgown pooled at her feet, revealing the silvery mark etched along her arm—twisting like a vine up to her shoulder. It shimmered faintly under the morning light, pulsing softly as if alive.
"I didn't ask for any of this," she whispered.
A knock sounded. The same servant from yesterday—Elin—entered, head bowed. "The prince requests your presence in the Moonbind Courtyard."
"Elin," Liora said quietly. "Am I going to die today?"
The servant looked up, her eyes full of something Liora didn't expect: respect. "That depends. Will you kneel or rise?"
Liora held her gaze. Then she nodded.
---
The Moonbind Courtyard looked like it had been carved from the heart of winter. Icy white stone covered the floor, and thirteen crescent-moon arches ringed a central platform. At the center stood a blackened altar with strange glyphs glowing across its surface.
Kaelith stood nearby, dressed not in his usual cloak, but in ceremonial armor—black and silver, etched with runes that flickered like fireflies. His gaze found her instantly.
"You came," he said.
"I didn't have much choice," she replied, voice steady. "And I'd rather face it with my eyes open."
He stepped forward, his voice low. "Then look at me when I say this: if you falter, they'll use that as an excuse to tear you apart. Do not give them what they want."
She blinked. "You're worried about me."
"No," he said too quickly.
A half smile curved her lips. "Liar."
But his expression remained carved from stone.
---
The council emerged, cloaked in gray. Their leader, High Enchanter Corvane, raised a staff encrusted with bone.
"Liora Vale," he intoned. "You have been bound to the Shadow Crown. Today, your soul shall be weighed. Should it break, the bond dissolves. Should it stand firm, you ascend as Consort of the Shadow Realm."
The air thickened. The altar began to glow.
Kaelith stepped closer and pressed something into her hand. It was cold—a pendant, shaped like a crescent moon wrapped in thorns.
"For courage," he said.
Liora looked up at him. "Will you be there?"
He didn't answer.
---
As she stepped into the circle, everything vanished.
Gone was the courtyard.
Gone was the sky.
She stood now in darkness, surrounded by flickers of memory and pain. Visions swirled—her mother crying behind locked doors. Her hands trembling as she picked pockets to buy bread. Her father's face, distant and never kind.
"No," she whispered. "Not again."
But the Trial was not merciful.
She saw herself as a child, screaming as the village guards threw her into the dirt for stealing bread. Felt the sting of betrayal when her only friend turned her in for a handful of coins.
She sank to her knees.
"I'm not that girl anymore," she cried. "I survived. I endured!"
The shadows laughed.
And then... she saw Kaelith.
But not as he was now. A boy—alone, bloodied, kneeling beside two coffins. The same cold eyes filled with tears.
Her heart twisted.
"Stop!" she shouted. "This isn't my pain!"
A voice echoed back: But it is your bond.
Flames erupted around her. The mark on her arm blazed with white light, searing into her soul.
"Fight!" she screamed at herself. "Stand, Liora!"
---
When her eyes opened again, she was back in the courtyard. Her legs gave out, and Kaelith caught her before she hit the floor.
"She lives," the High Enchanter whispered, eyes wide.
"She passed," someone said. "The bond didn't break."
Kaelith held her tighter. "It never would."
Liora looked up at him, her voice hoarse. "You were there... in the vision."
He nodded. "The bond goes both ways."
---
That night, her chambers filled with gifts—silks, jewels, scrolls of ancient prophecy. Her name echoed through the palace.
But Liora sat alone at her window, staring at the stars.
Her hand brushed over the moon pendant Kaelith gave her.
"I'm not a queen," she whispered.
"No," came his voice behind her. "You're something rarer. You're a flame that refuses to die."
She turned. "What if I burn everything down?"
He smiled faintly. "Then I'll burn with you."
---
End of Chapter Hook:
> As Liora rises within the palace walls, enemies stir in the mountains of Valcaryn—and one of them wears a familiar face. The shadows may have chosen her… but will the kingdom?