Arcelia didn't wake for hours.
Kael carried her out of the ruins with a strange mixture of fear and tenderness as if she were both his enemy and someone he'd sworn to protect. The patrol—what little remained—followed in shaken silence.
Lysander moved beside me, his steps unsteady.
He was still bleeding.
Black, not red.
Thick like ink.
Burning through the shadows that usually mended him.
"Are you sure you can walk?" I whispered.
He didn't look at me.
"I don't walk," he said. "I endure."
His voice was tight, like the wound pained him more than he wanted to admit.
Kael glanced back at us, jaw clenched.
"We need a healer the moment we return."
"You will not bring a mortal near me," Lysander hissed.
"You're dying," Kael snapped.
"Not yet," Lysander said.
A cold wind swept the forest as we crossed the outer edge.
Something shifted under my ribs—
a tightening, a burn, a pull.
When we reached the palace gates, Lysander swayed.
I stepped in front of him, catching his arm before he could fall.
"Aura," he said softly, "don't—"
"Don't tell me not to help you," I said. "You bled for me."
He went quiet.
Kael watched this with a hurt expression he didn't bother hiding.
Arcelia Wakes
We placed Arcelia in her chamber under heavy guard. Curtains drawn, incense burning to calm the air, water kept beside her bed.
The moment her eyes opened, Kael was at her side.
She gasped—
not dramatically
not in fear
but like someone waking from a nightmare that followed her into daylight.
Her voice trembled.
"Aura…?"
I stepped closer.
Her eyes filled with tears instantly.
"I didn't mean— I didn't—" She choked on a sob. "It was inside me—"
"I know," I said softly. "You're safe now."
Her lips trembled.
"No one is safe. Not from that thing."
Kael placed a hand gently over hers.
"You're not alone," he said.
She looked at him in shock.
As if she didn't expect kindness from the boy who once ignored her.
Lysander stood in the corner, leaning against the wall, arms folded, shadow swirling around him like smoke.
"Her mind is fractured," he murmured. "The Primordial pushed too deep."
Arcelia flinched at his voice, curling inward.
"Don't—let him come near me—" she pleaded.
"It's alright," I said quickly. "He won't hurt you."
Lysander raised an eyebrow as if to say: I could, but I won't.
Arcelia grabbed my wrist suddenly.
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"It spoke to me," she said. "Before it took me. Before the ruins swallowed me."
I leaned in. "What did it say?"
"It said… you were born wrong."
My blood froze.
Lysander's shadows sharpened like blades.
Kael stood abruptly. "Enough—she needs rest—"
"No," Arcelia whispered, gripping me harder.
"You need to hear this."
I swallowed.
"What did it mean?"
Arcelia's eyes slipped to my chest—
just above my heart—
where a faint silver glow pulsed beneath the skin like moonlight trapped under flesh.
I stiffened.
"You have the mark," she whispered.
"What mark?"
"The Moon-Born seal," Lysander said quietly.
Kael turned sharply. "The WHAT?"
Lysander stepped closer, ignoring the pain in his side.
He pointed to the faint silver light beneath my skin.
"That," he said, "is the mark of the moon's heir."
The room went silent.
Kael looked at me, eyes wide.
"Aura… what is he talking about?"
Lysander answered.
"It means she is the last living descendant of the ancient Moon-Line. A lineage older than the kingdom. Born not of mortal blood… but celestial intervention."
Kael looked horrified. "She's not human?"
"She is," Lysander said sharply. "More than human."
Arcelia stared at the mark, trembling.
"It said you were a key. That your blood… could open everything."
My stomach twisted.
"What does it open?" I whispered.
Lysander lowered his voice.
"The prison where the Primordial sleeps."
A chill ran through the room.
"So the god wants to use me?" I said softly.
"No," Lysander corrected.
"It needs you."
Kael grabbed my shoulders. "AURA, listen to me—whatever that thing wants, you will NOT go near those ruins again."
But his fear was twisting into something else—
panic
possession
desperation
Lysander's expression darkened.
"Do not try to cage her, prince."
Kael snapped.
"She nearly died!"
"She lived," Lysander countered. "Because she isn't what you imagine."
Kael turned to me, voice cracking.
"Aura… please. Don't let him turn you into something else."
"He's not turning me into anything," I said. "I already am something else."
Kael stepped back as if I'd hit him.
Lysander's voice softened—just barely.
"Aura," he said, "the mark awakened because you chose yourself. You broke the cycle."
"What cycle?"
"The fate of the Moon-Born," he said.
"To die young. To be taken. Or to be crowned through ruin."
Arcelia whispered:
"She… she's supposed to be queen?"
"No," Lysander said quietly.
"She's supposed to be a god's vessel. But she denied it."
Kael's eyes widened in horror.
"That's why the Primordial wants her," he whispered.
"Yes."
"Because she can free it."
"Or destroy it," Lysander added.
Silence.
Heavy.
Crushing.
Full of a truth none of us were ready for.
The Whisper Through the Kingdom
Just when the tension felt ready to snap—
Something changed in the air.
A cold breeze crawled along the palace floor.
The torches dimmed.
The shadows stretched.
Lysander's eyes snapped to the window.
"No. Not now."
"What?" Kael demanded.
"Listen," Lysander hissed.
We did.
And then we heard it—
A whisper rolling across the city.
Not from the ruins.
Not from the forest.
From the sky.
Little moon-child…
The hairs on my arms rose.
Your kingdom calls…
Kael backed closer to me.
"Aura—stay behind me—"
Doom follows your shadow…
Arcelia curled into herself, shaking violently.
"The Primordial," she whispered. "It's reaching the whole city."
The whisper grew louder.
Come to me.
Come home.
Open the door.
The palace walls groaned like they might crack.
I felt something inside me respond—
an ache
a pull
a familiar hunger—
I clutched my chest as the silver mark burned under my skin.
"Aura?" Kael rushed to my side. "Aura—what's happening—?"
Lysander stepped forward immediately, grabbing my shoulders.
"Aura. Listen to me. Look at me."
"I—it's calling me—" I gasped. "It wants me—it's—pulling—"
"Aura!" Lysander's voice snapped like a whip.
"FOCUS on me."
His hands were cold around my face, forcing my gaze to his.
"Breathe," he ordered.
"You are not its puppet."
"You are not its child."
"You are not its doorway."
The mark kept burning—
Kael reached out, voice cracking.
"Aura—tell me what to do—"
"You can't do anything," Lysander said without looking at him.
"This power is older than your bloodline."
Kael flinched.
The whisper roared suddenly—
OPEN. THE. DOOR.
The palace trembled.
And then—
CRACK.
A mirror shattered.
Then another.
Windows broke.
People screamed outside.
The Primordial was touching reality.
My breath stopped.
Lysander pulled me against him, shielding me as the magic wind howled through the room.
Kael reached for me too—
but stopped
as if realizing touching me now could get him killed.
The whisper faded as suddenly as it came.
Silence.
Broken glass everywhere.
Shaking walls.
My heartbeat wild.
Lysander let me go slowly, hands trembling from the effort.
Kael looked shaken, terrified—and fiercely protective.
Arcelia was sobbing quietly into her sheets.
Lysander turned to me, voice lower than ever.
"This is only the beginning."
I swallowed.
"What does it want now?"
Lysander's eyes darkened.
"It wants the kingdom," he said.
"And it wants you to bring it."
Kael stepped forward, rage building in his voice.
"Over my dead body."
Lysander looked at him with something like a warning.
"That," he said quietly,
"is exactly what the Primordial is counting on."
The room went silent.
A chill crawled up my spine.
Kael's face paled.
Arcelia sobbed harder.
And Lysander whispered the truth none of us dared say aloud:
"The prophecy has changed, Aura.
The choice is no longer between death and throne."
He leaned closer.
"Now the choice is between kingdom…
and god."