The echoes of the ritual still hadn't died.
Even with the Cantors reduced to ash, even with their spell severed, something lingered. Not in the stone, not in the air—in me.
It coiled behind my ribs, humming in a rhythm I recognized too well.
A heartbeat that wasn't mine.
A promise I didn't remember making.
But the gods did.
We stayed only long enough to ensure the chamber wouldn't breathe again. Kael sealed the runic gates. Seris traced ward-lines in salt and soot. Lyra activated a relic that stilled corrupted magic, though her hand trembled as she held it. Eirin said nothing.
And me?
I walked ahead.
I needed space.
Distance from the blood. From the choir. From the feeling that I'd just met a version of myself that was still waiting to be born.
Or reborn.
Or worse—released.
I emerged into a hollowed cavern of moonlight.
Not natural light. Not sky-born.
This was wrong.
The glow came from above—but there was no sun. No moon. No opening.
Just light, faintly silver, seeping down through the stone like sorrow that had learned to shine.
The cavern was a grave.
A tomb.
And it had one occupant.
Her.
Saint Selene.
She stood alone at the center, veil trailing like twilight smoke, her hands folded in front of her.
I'd never seen her before.
But I'd known her for lifetimes.
Her presence struck like a needle to the soul—precise, cold, intentional. Her armor was black pearl etched with moonlit filigree. Her eyes were glassy pools of silver eclipse. And her smile...
Soft. Empty. Absolute.
Like she'd already forgiven me for sins I hadn't yet committed.
"Hello again, Sovereign," she whispered, voice like lullabies carved from knives.
I didn't answer.
Not out of hesitation.
But because every word I might've said felt like it would be heard by something else. Something listening through her mouth.
She stepped closer.
No sound.
Not even a footfall.
Her presence wasn't physical. She didn't walk.
She glided.
As if gravity bent around her in apology.
"You always come back here," she said, almost fond. "You always bleed. Always break. Always pretend your fate is your own."
She tilted her head.
"But it never is."
"Why are you here?" I asked finally.
Her smile didn't change.
"To watch."
"To threaten?"
"I do not threaten," she said gently. "I remind."
She raised her hand, and the air bent. A mirror of light formed midair—flickering with scenes, shards of lives I hadn't yet remembered.
In one: I knelt before her, bloody and smiling.
In another: I wept, chained in a temple of moons.
In a third: I stood beside her—armored like a priest-king, voice raised in song I'd written in another language, for another god.
I flinched.
"You served the Choir once," she said. "But long before that, you served us."
My voice came out hoarse. "I don't remember."
"No," she said softly. "But we remember you."
Her fingers brushed the mirror.
The reflection bled.
"I called you beloved," she said.
"I was never yours," I snapped.
Her eyes dimmed.
"You still are."
She stepped closer. I stood my ground. The mirror dissolved into mist, folding back into the air like a memory dismissed.
"You still bear the mark."
I didn't answer.
Because I felt it.
That old weight.
That buried seal.
It stirred just beneath the skin of my back—between the shoulder blades. A crescent burned, invisible to sight, branded in astral heat.
I hadn't known it was there.
But she did.
So did they.
"You don't have to fight this," Selene whispered. "You were always meant to return."
"To what?" I asked.
She leaned in, lips near my ear.
"To obedience."
My pulse cracked.
But my voice did not.
"I've died thirteen times. I've been shattered, reborn, erased, rewritten. And still, I'm here."
She pulled back, eyes narrowing slightly.
"So brave," she whispered. "So tragic. You really think free will matters anymore?"
"I think I matter," I said.
She stared at me.
And in her silence, I heard something impossible:
A sigh.
Old.
Older than stars.
Then, her smile returned.
Soft. Cruel.
"We'll see."
She raised her hand—
—and vanished.
No flash. No sound.
Just gone.
Like the light she brought.
And with her exit… the moonlight faded.
The cavern fell back into darkness.
I didn't move.
Not at first.
Not until Aeris spoke behind me, voice lower than usual.
"She scares me more than the others."
I nodded.
"She should."
Because Selene didn't hate me.
She loved me.
And that was far, far more dangerous.
A shard of moonlight remained.
Flickering in the air.
I touched it.
And saw a vision—
Of myself.
Kneeling before a silver throne.
Hands bloodied.
Whispering a name I don't remember choosing.
And behind me…
Selene smiled.