The final night of the Luminara Festival burned itself into memory. Music rose in waves through the courtyards, laughter spilled across the marble halls, and enchanted lanterns floated overhead like captive stars. Nobles and envoys, their silks and jewels glittering, gathered in every corner, drinking, gossiping, and whispering about the revelations Gadmyne had dropped like thunder earlier in the day.
Nystrix had endured hours of stares—some sharp as blades, some wide with awe, some dripping with quiet malice. Even as Gadmyne stood like an unshakable pillar, Nystrix's chest felt heavy, crowded with too much noise, too many eyes, too much expectation.
She needed to breathe.
So when the music swelled to a fever pitch and dancers spun across the plaza, Nystrix slipped away. Her gown whispered against the stone as she crossed into the outer paths. The noise of the festival dimmed behind her, replaced by the hush of night air and the soft hum of magic pulsing through the palace grounds.
She didn't notice that a pair of dark eyes followed her the entire way.
Luthien leaned against a high balcony above the plaza, a goblet untouched in his hand. His smirk curved faintly as he watched Nystrix disappear into the shadows. Always running, always carrying too much weight on shoulders that were never meant to be steady. And yet—she walked with fire. Fragile, stubborn, untamed fire.
He set the goblet aside and followed, silent as the night.
~~~~~~~~~~
Nystrix entered the garden, and the world shifted.
It was unlike anything she had seen during daylight. The flowers glowed faintly, their petals kissed with moonlight that pulsed like breath. Vines shimmered in soft blues and silvers, winding around ivory arches. Crickets sang low songs beneath leaves, while enchanted fireflies floated lazily between blossoms like drifting sparks.
She exhaled, tension melting from her shoulders. For the first time all day, no one was staring. No judgment, no whispers—just the garden's quiet glow. She trailed her fingers across a petal that hummed faintly at her touch.
Beautiful. Alive. Safe.
"Running away, little hybrid?"
The voice startled her. She spun, eyes wide—then narrowed when she saw him.
Luthien leaned casually against an archway, arms folded, his dark cloak spilling like a shadow across the marble. His smirk was playful, but his eyes were unreadable as always—deep and sharp, carrying secrets he would never tell.
"I'm not running," Nystrix said quickly, though her pulse betrayed her. "I'm just… breathing."
He stepped closer, unhurried, his presence filling the space like smoke curling through air. "Breathing," he repeated softly, as though testing the word. "Strange. I thought fire creatures like you thrived on choking others."
Nystrix scowled. "You're impossible."
"And you're predictable." He tilted his head, eyes glinting in the garden's glow. "Always escaping to corners, always standing alone. Why? Do you not realize yet? You're the center now. They'll never stop watching."
"That's exactly why I left." Her voice was sharp, but her hands trembled slightly. "I didn't ask for their eyes. Or their judgment. Or…" She trailed off, biting her lip.
"Or their fear?" he finished for her.
Her throat tightened, but she nodded.
For a moment, silence stretched. The air thickened between them, humming with more than magic.
Luthien stepped closer, his hand brushing a glowing vine as though he had all the time in the world. His gaze locked on her, dark and searching. "You carry yourself like you're a storm ready to collapse. But storms don't collapse, Nystrix. They break worlds."
Her chest tightened. "And if I don't want to?"
He smiled faintly, leaning close enough for his words to brush against her ear. "Then stop pretending you can choose."
Her breath caught. She turned to glare at him, to protest—but his lips brushed hers before the words could form.
Soft. Warm. Electric.
Her fingers curled helplessly into her gown as the kiss deepened, as if the garden itself leaned in closer. His hand cupped her jaw, steady but gentle, guiding rather than demanding. She melted for one terrifying heartbeat before pulling back, eyes wide.
"Luthien—"
He only smirked, eyes gleaming like the night. "You talk too much."
She might have shoved him. She might have kissed him again. She didn't get the chance.
Footsteps crunched against gravel. Voices rose, low and sharp.
Luthien stilled. His eyes flicked toward the shadows. "Stay here," he whispered, his tone suddenly serious. He pulled away, vanishing into the archways, leaving Nystrix pressed against the glowing vines, breathless and confused.
Three figures entered the garden.
The twins and Lymid stepped deeper into the glowing garden, their faces carved with fury.
"They laughed," Lymid growled, pacing in tight circles, his voice cracking with rage. "Do you realize that? They laughed when Gadmyne named her disciple. My father's honor—my honor—dragged through mud, and that little hybrid just stood there as if she belonged!"
"Calm down, brother," Salatia murmured, though her eyes glimmered with a cruel light. "Storms that roar too loud only draw attention." She leaned against a silver arch, twirling a glowing petal between her fingers. "If Nystrix wants to play queen, we'll let her… until we break her crown."
Lymid's hands curled into fists. "Break her? I'll destroy her. She'll beg to crawl back into whatever gutter she was born in."
Malatia's laugh was sharper than her twin's. "You're too kind. I don't just want her broken. I want her erased. She shouldn't exist. A half-blood, a stain, daring to take what is ours."
Salatia tilted her head, watching her sister carefully. "You're not just talking about Nystrix, are you?"
Malatia's expression twisted, her voice lowering to a venomous hiss. "I've loved Luthien for years. Years. And what do I see? Him looking at her. Her. As if she matters. He should look at me. I'm pureblood. I'm worthy. But no—the cursed laws bind me. No interbreeding, no exceptions. Yet she walks free, untouched. Unharmed. Why?"
Her nails dug into her palms until they bled. "If she can walk unpunished, then so can I. I'll use her. I'll twist her. And when the law falls, I'll have what's mine—Luthien. And she'll have nothing."
Lymid grinned darkly. "Then it's settled. We'll bleed her reputation dry. Poison her allies. Crush her spirit. And when the time is right…" He slammed a fist into his palm. "We end her."
The garden glowed around them, beautiful and cruel.
In the shadows above, Nystrix's lips curved into a dark chuckle. Their threats rolled over her like wind over fire. Let them plot. Let them hiss. They would never see her burn until it was too late.
Feathers rippled along her skin, her form shrinking into a sleek deep blue bird. With a single beat of her wings, she vanished into the night sky.
~~~~~~~~~~
Later that night, Nystrix sat in her chamber, tugging the ties of her gown loose. Her fingers shook with exhaustion, her mind whirling with too much—Gadmyne's revelations, the Noctarii's judgment, the kiss, the overheard threats.
She exhaled, letting the gown slip from her shoulder
A warm breath touched her neck.
Nystrix gasped, spinning—only to find herself caught against a familiar chest, lips captured in a sudden kiss from behind.
"Luthien!" she hissed, shoving at him weakly. "You can't just—"
"I can," he said easily, his smirk infuriating. His hands steadied her, but never crossed a line. His kisses lingered soft at her temple, her cheek, her lips, pulling heat to her skin. "And I will."
Her heart pounded so loud it drowned her thoughts. She wanted to push him away. She wanted to pull him closer. She hated how he knew it.
"Stop… teasing," she whispered.
He chuckled, low and dangerous. "I'm not teasing."
They tumbled onto her bed, laughter and gasps tangled together. His arm held her steady, his kisses deep but careful, deliberate. When his hand moved to her chest and played with the two ripe peaches, Nystrix body moved in a way it had never, her body arched and she needed him but was scared and he satisfied her craving without pushing further. When she flinched, he stilled. When she leaned closer, he matched her.
Exotic. Breathless. But never past the line she didn't want to cross.
Finally, he drew her against him, her head tucked beneath his chin. His voice was softer now, almost vulnerable.
Luthien finally stilled, drawing her close beneath the dim glow of her chamber lamps. His voice was soft, steady, commanding.
"Be my woman, Nystrix."
Nystrix stiffened, staring at him in disbelief. "What?"
"You heard me." His smirk curved lazily, but his eyes were serious, locked on hers. "Be mine."
Her jaw tightened. "I'm not owned by anybody."
A low chuckle vibrated from his chest. He leaned close, brushing his lips against her ear. "You're not owned by anybody… but me."
Nystrix stared at him, lips twitching despite herself. A small, reluctant smile broke through, and with it came the weight of fatigue pressing down on her body. Her eyes fluttered shut, her breath evening out as she slipped helplessly into sleep.
Luthien's smirk softened into something unreadable. He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"Fire, stubborn fire. I wanted only your power… but now you burn me too."
And as she dreamed, he lay awake—possessive, conflicted, and entirely unwilling to let go.