Chapter 7 — "The Prince's Whisper"
The dawn came slowly over the palace, painting the walls in pale gold and silver. Selene had spent the night buried in the archives, uncovering letters, maps, and sealed reports that traced the hidden movements of the Draven court. Every scroll she touched whispered secrets, every seal she broke felt like a heartbeat stolen from the past. Yet, even as knowledge sharpened her purpose, it also painted new shadows — of Kael, of the Prince whose reflection had whispered in the dark mirror, and of the unseen hands that moved the court like pieces on a board.
Selene's thoughts were interrupted by a soft sound: the faint rustle of silk against marble. She did not turn. The figure of the Prince was here before she could see him, a presence that pressed against her awareness like a tide.
"Selene." His voice was a low thread, intimate and precise, and yet it carried the weight of command. "I wondered how long it would take before you followed the trail."
Selene's back stiffened, but she did not flinch. "Kael," she said, measuring each syllable. "You've been watching, haven't you? The mirror… the shadows… every whisper I thought was mine alone."
He stepped closer, his reflection in the polished archives gleaming like silver fire. "I have watched," he admitted. "But not all whispers belong to me. Some are warnings, others traps. You tread dangerously."
Selene's fingers brushed the Crescent Mark. "So do you. Or is it the palace that moves your hand?"
Kael's lips curved, almost imperceptibly. "Perhaps both. But you—you move with a boldness the Moon rarely allows." He paused, studying her as if weighing the pull of her intent against the weight of her choices. "You seek your sister. The letters, the coin, the messages—all of it. But tell me, Selene… do you trust her? Or do you trust what you see in mirrors?"
Selene's eyes narrowed. "Trust is a luxury I cannot afford. Not with my sister, not with you, not with the Moon. I have only what I can wield—and tonight, I will wield it well."
Kael's gaze lingered, and for a moment, the air between them felt like glass stretched too thin. He leaned closer, almost conspiratorial, his breath ghosting against her ear. "Then you should know… someone is already one step ahead of you. The coin, the message, the Serpent—these are all part of a game you have barely begun to understand."
Selene's pulse quickened, the Crescent Mark burning faintly beneath her gown. "And who, pray tell, is my opponent? Is it the Prince of Draven? The Serpent? Or my own sister?"
Kael's eyes darkened, a shadow flickering across them. "All three. And yet, there is one more. Someone who moves behind the scenes, whose reflection you have glimpsed but never truly faced."
Selene's jaw tightened. "Then I will face them. I will know every shadow before it strikes. And when I do, I will decide who falls… and who survives."
He nodded, a faint smile ghosting his lips, a mixture of challenge and admiration. "Very well. But remember this, Selene Viora: the Moon watches, yes—but even she cannot always protect the bold."
Before she could respond, Kael slipped into the shadows, leaving only the echo of his words and the faint scent of sandalwood. Selene pressed her hand to the crescent again, her resolve crystallizing.
The game was no longer about surviving the court, nor even about discovering the truth of Eira's betrayal. It was about mastering the web of power, deception, and shadows that bound the Draven palace. And Selene had no intention of being a pawn.
As the first golden rays of the sun fell across the marble floors, she whispered to herself, a vow as sharp as steel:
"I will follow every shadow, uncover every truth, and strike with the Moon's favor. Kael, Eira, Serpent… whoever stands in my way, beware. The Moon's Rejected Bride does not forgive."
And with that, Selene stepped forward, leaving the archives behind, her mind already plotting the next move in a court where whispers could kill, and reflections could lie.