In the castle's sun-drenched courtyard, the sound of laughter echoed like birdsong.
Corin dashed behind a pillar, breathless with glee, only to yelp as Liam tackled him from the other side, both boys tumbling into a heap on the grass. They wrestled half-heartedly, then burst into laughter, arms thrown around each other like they'd been doing this their whole lives.
Aedric stood in the archway, unnoticed, hands clasped behind his back. He watched them with a stillness that held more than thought, it held wonder.
Just months ago, they'd been strangers. Now, they moved like twin stars in orbit, bickering, laughing, chasing shadows and secrets together.
Liam pointed toward the stables and took off running again, Corin whooping as he followed, nearly tripping over his own feet. Their joy was loud, free, and achingly familiar.
Aedric felt something catch in his chest. Guilt, yes. Regret, certainly. But more than that, a quiet, impossible hope.
Two brothers, finding each other too late and yet just in time.
As he stood there his thoughts drifted, inevitably, to Araya.
But today, he wasn't letting the past weigh him down. Today, he had a purpose.
He turned away from the courtyard, his steps quiet but certain. Ninzu had come to Vargorath to perform the ancient Rite of Veil and Flame. A sacred blessing for royal heirs carried by Queens.
The seer was leaving Vargorath soon, and he had questions still clawing at the back of his mind. Mysteries half-spoken. Dreams that bled into memory.
It was time to speak to Ninzu.
To find the truth hidden beneath the veil.
To uncover whatever the Moon had yet to reveal.
Ninzu opened the door before he could knock, her violet eyes calm, knowing. She had been expecting him.
The chamber behind her smelled of sage and incense. Candles flickered in a wide circle around a low table carved with ancient symbols, and silken veils stirred though no wind passed.
She stepped aside without a word, letting Aedric enter. The door shut behind him with a soft click, as though sealing him in with fate itself.
"It took you longer than I expected," she said, finally breaking the silence.
Aedric gave a dry nod, his jaw tight. "I need the truth."
Ninzu's gaze didn't waver. "Then you must be willing to see what truth shows you. Even if it breaks you open."
He didn't flinch. "I am."
Ninzu's eyes softened. "You do not yet see," she said quietly. "You left, even though she never accepted your rejection. She was still your mate, and she bore your silence… your infidelities… until the day she died."
Aedric's chest tightened.
"She did not chase you." She continued. "She only waited, believing, hoping, that you would return to her. That faith touched the Moon Goddess. And so, she was granted another life, reborn in the body of another."
"How do I find her?"
Ninzu reached forward, her fingers light against Aedric's brow.
"She is your destiny," she whispered. "I will guide you, and at the right time, you will be reunited once more."
....
The Emberhall training circle lay quiet under the deepening dusk. Torches flickered along its high stone walls, their golden light dancing in the stillness. The shadows of flame and steel stretched long across the dirt.
Eira stood at the center, wearing only a light tunic. Her hair was tied back, but loose strands clung to her temples from sweat. Across from her stood King Maelor, not in royal robes, but in a tunic of dark wool, his sleeves rolled.
They circled each other.
"You're holding back," Eira said, her voice clipped but steady.
Maelor's eyes, that deep storm-grey, fixed on her. "I'm being kind."
Her grip tightened on the hilt. "Kindness won't keep me sharp."
A pause. Then he moved.
Their swords clashed, the sharp clang echoing in the open air. What followed wasn't a match. It was a language. Fist against fist. She struck high. He blocked. He twisted, moved low. She countered.
For a moment, she forgot the blood magic. The fear. The way everyone looked at her like she might snap again.
Then she stumbled. He moved fast, faster than she expected. His arm swept behind her knees, and she hit the dirt. He pinned her in an instant.
Maelor knelt above her, his face unreadable. One hand held her wrist down; the other braced beside her head, holding most of his weight.
Her heart pounded.
"You shouldn't hold me like this, Your Majesty," she murmured, breath shallow.
His gaze darkened. "Then stop letting me win."
Time held its breath.
He stood, offering a hand. She hesitated, then took it.
This is only the beginning.
Watch out for Volume 2.