Ashar POV
I made up my mind to answer her questions honestly—maybe that would finally silence her curiosity and, with luck, push her away.
"What do you want to know?" I asked.
Her eyes lifted to me in surprise. The second time our gazes met, I felt it again—the same jolt of recognition. She looked so much like Morgan. Those curious blue eyes, the way she studied the world with quiet judgment… it was all too familiar.
"Really?" she asked, as though she couldn't quite believe I meant it.
Part of me wanted to take it back, but I knew that would never shut her up.
"Yes," I said instead.
Her face lit up. The fear that had clung to her a moment ago seemed to vanish, replaced by a smile so bright it pierced the shadows of the cave. Innocent. Unbroken. Too fragile for the dangers waiting ahead.
She stepped closer, fearless now, determined to hear every word.
"What is your name? And how do you know my ancestor?" she asked. But in her eyes I saw it—she already suspected part of the truth. She just wanted me to confirm it.
"My name is Ashar Starwort," I said. "And no, I am not a moon bearer. But I was once a friend to your ancestor, who was one."
"Are you a demon?" Her sudden question cut through me.
I stared at her. For the third time, our eyes locked—and something had shifted. She wasn't afraid anymore. Who was this girl? How could she move past fear so easily?
"No," I said. "What you saw… that form was not a demon. It is one of my curses."
"Who cursed you?"
There she went again, digging deeper, asking questions no one dared ask me. Her persistence was unnerving—strange, reckless, almost admirable.
"Your two Echo friends," I muttered, turning my gaze to the fire burning low at the center of our cave.
"Can you tell me the story?" she asked, tilting her head, her expression caught between wonder and defiance.
That look… it was surprisingly cute.
Wait—cute? What was wrong with me? I couldn't let myself slip like this.
"Look, young lady, all you need to—"
"Selena Mikkelsen."
I blinked. "What?"
"My name," she said firmly. "It's Selena Mikkelsen."
She was getting far too comfortable around me. And I… I was losing my edge. I needed to remind her of the distance between us, remind myself not to let her too close.
"Whatever," I said sharply. "What you need to know is this—your ancestor was the last moon bearer. The two moons are no gods to worship; they are tricksters, servants of Loki himself. And they are leading you to your death. That fate is inescapable. No moon bearer has ever outrun it."
The words tasted like ash as I spoke them.
Pain flared in my side. I gripped my waist, biting back a groan. The power I'd used to save her was tearing through me again. Every time I called upon it, the curse punished me. A burning ache twisted in my stomach, reminding me why I avoided that power for so long.
I cursed the two moons under my breath. They gift strength, but at a cruel cost.
A power you can never use freely.
A fate you can never escape.
Selena fell silent. The echo of my words still hung in the cave, heavy and unrelenting, and for once she had no questions. She stared into the fire, the flicker of its glow painting her face in gold and shadow.
I let out a slow breath. Perhaps I had been too cruel, too blunt. But she needed to hear the truth, even if it cut deeper than any blade.
Her silence gave me space to think—dangerous space. The past crept in, unbidden, dragging with it memories I had buried a hundred times.
Morgan. The last moon bearer.
I could still see her, standing where Selena stood now, that same fire in her eyes, that same refusal to bend under the weight of fate. She, too, believed she could carve her own path. And yet, in the end… the moons claimed her.
I clenched my jaw, dragging my thoughts back to the present. The cave was quiet except for the crackle of fire and the faint drip of water echoing from somewhere in the darkness. The air was damp, the stone walls pressing in, yet Selena sat there as if none of it mattered.
She was so still. So young. Too young.
Did she even grasp what I had just told her? That every step she took toward her destiny was a step toward her death? That the blood in her veins was not a blessing, but a curse dressed in silver light?
Her face betrayed little, but her silence spoke volumes. I saw the storm behind her eyes, though she tried to hide it. She was thinking, weighing, perhaps even doubting me. But she couldn't doubt forever. The moons would prove me right. They always did.
A pang of pity struck me, sharp and unwelcome. I didn't want to pity her. Pity led to weakness, and weakness… weakness destroyed me once before.
And yet, looking at her—at that smile she'd worn only moments ago, at the innocence that clung to her despite everything—I couldn't help it. She had no idea how cruel this world truly was. She had no idea how much it would take from her before the end.
I hated myself for wishing she might be different. That perhaps this girl, this Selena, could escape the fate Morgan never could.
But deep down, I knew better.
The moons never lost.
The fire's glow blurred before my eyes, and for a moment I was no longer in the cave. I was back in the forest of long ago, standing beside her.
Morgan.
She laughed at the moonlight as if it were an old friend, her silver hair catching its glow. I remembered how fearless she had been, how certain that destiny could not touch her.
"They say the moons weave our end before we even begin," she once told me, her gaze turned skyward. "But I don't care. I'll make them regret tying my fate."
Her defiance had burned brighter than any flame. It was what drew me to her—and what doomed her in the end.
I remembered her last night, the way she stood tall even when the curse consumed her. No tears. No fear. Only that same proud fire. And then… silence.
The memory clawed at me, and I forced my eyes shut, but it wouldn't fade. Selena's presence only sharpened the ache, as if the past and present had collided.
A soft voice broke through my thoughts.
"Well," she whispered, almost to herself, "even before I was born, I was already destined to die."
What!
For a heartbeat, Her words pulled me straight back to that night—to Morgan's voice, her defiance, her unshakable fire. It was the same tone, the same fatal certainty.
But it wasn't Morgan. It was Selena.
This girl—this fragile, reckless girl—was already speaking like someone who had accepted the noose before it even touched her neck. She didn't even flinch at the thought of death.
I felt my chest tighten. A part of me wanted to shake her, to force her to understand the weight of her words. Another part—darker, more dangerous—wanted to turn away, to guard the wall I had built so carefully over years of silence and exile.
No. I could not let myself see Morgan in her. That road had already broken me once.
I clenched my fists, forcing my voice down, swallowing the storm that threatened to escape.
Selena stared at the flames, her face unreadable. Maybe she hadn't even meant for me to hear it. Maybe it was just her way of fighting the fear.
But the damage was done.
Those words—her words—would not leave me.
And I feared, more than ever, that she would share Morgan's fate.