Loving Luna

The Choice He Made

Welcome home, Your Majesty.

The words settled over the Archives like ash, drifting through the vaulted silence as if the building itself had exhaled them. They did not belong here. Nothing about them did.

Luna stood perfectly still, staring at the young warrior who had spoken. He was barely more than a messenger—breathless, dirt still clinging to the seams of his armor—but his eyes held no uncertainty. He had not misspoken. He had meant every syllable.

She waited for him to correct himself.

He didn’t.

Darius moved first, the scrape of his boots against stone cutting through the tension like a blade.

“Where was the body found?” he asked, voice flat, controlled.

“Near the eastern boundary,” the messenger replied. “Inside the abandoned watch house.”

“Who found him?”

“Kael and Tomas. They secured the area and sent me back immediately.”

Darius turned slightly, already shifting into command. Mason had just entered the hall, catching the tail end of the report.

“Take six warriors,” Darius ordered. “No one enters until I arrive.”

Mason nodded once. “I’ll get the vehicles ready.”

Darius’s gaze sharpened. “No one enters.”

A beat passed.

Mason met his eyes. “I heard you.”

But his expression tightened as he turned away.

“Whatever killed him might still be there,” Mason said over his shoulder.

Darius didn’t hesitate. “Assume it is.”

And then he was gone.

The room seemed to exhale only after he left.

Luna set down her untouched tea with deliberate calm, though her fingers lingered on the porcelain a moment too long.

“I’m coming,” she said.

Darius didn’t even look back. “No.”

The refusal was immediate, absolute.

“Why?” she demanded.

“I know your reasons,” he replied.

“You haven’t heard them.”

“You think the message is for you.”

“It used my title,” she said sharply.

“Exactly why you stay.”

Her jaw tightened. “So I wait here while others handle my life being threatened?”

“Yes.”

The single word landed like a locked door.

Across the room, Alden closed the journal he had been reading. Evelyn stepped back from the table, her expression unreadable. The young guard who had delivered the message suddenly found the floor very interesting.

Luna turned back to Darius. “You said I get choices.”

“You do.”

“That sounded like an order.”

“It was.”

The honesty in it made the air colder.

A sharp pulse of fear flickered through their bond—controlled, restrained, but real. Darius felt it and did not soften.

“You think it’s a trap,” she said quietly.

“I know it is.”

“Then I go with you.”

“No.”

“I won’t go alone,” she insisted. “I’ll stay beside you.”

“No.”

Her frustration flared. “Don’t trust me?”

That finally made something in him shift.

“Don’t do that,” he said.

“Do what?”

“Make this about trust.”

Her voice dropped. “What is it then?”

“I nearly died yesterday.”

The room went still in a way that felt almost sacred.

Even the air seemed to pause.

“The Shadow King reached you,” Darius continued, voice lower now, rougher. “He entered your dreams. I won’t risk you again.”

Luna’s expression softened despite herself. “You think I’ll be hurt.”

“I know it,” he said.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then she crossed the distance and took his hand.

He didn’t stop her.

“I’m not asking you to stop fearing,” she said gently. “Just don’t let it decide everything for me.”

A flicker of something almost like regret crossed his face.

“I regret teaching you anything,” he said.

“No, you don’t.”

The corner of his mouth tightened. “No,” he admitted.

That small concession changed the shape of the room.

Luna squeezed his hand. “I need to see it. I felt something when I heard the message.”

“Recognition?” Alden asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” she admitted.

Alden closed the journal fully. “She should see it.”

Darius’s head snapped slightly toward him. “No.”

“The killer wants her reaction,” Alden continued calmly. “We can learn from it.”

Silence stretched again, heavier this time.

Darius hesitated.

Luna stepped forward before he could decide for her. “I’m going.”

His eyes locked onto hers.

“You’ll stay one step from me,” he said finally.

“Agreed.”

The watch house sat at the forest’s edge like something abandoned by time itself.

Dawn had fully broken, but mist still clung low to the ground, curling around broken stone and half-collapsed fencing. The trees beyond stood unnaturally still.

No birds called.

No wind moved.

Darius helped Luna out of the vehicle, his hand steady at her elbow.

“I can manage,” she said.

“I know,” he replied.

“Then why—”

“Because I want to,” he interrupted simply.

That silenced her.

As they approached, Luna felt it—the faint warmth of her mark responding to something unseen. Not danger exactly. Recognition. Echoes.

Mason met them at the entrance.

“No tracks,” he reported. “Possible magic residue. Black ash inside.”

“Like the dining hall,” Luna said quietly.

Darius stepped closer to her side. “One step.”

“I remember,” she said.

Inside, the air was wrong.

It smelled of blood, but beneath it lingered something scorched and unnatural, like reality itself had been burned.

The body sat slumped beneath the window. The man’s throat had been cut cleanly, almost ceremonially. A stolen Blackwood crest had been driven into his chest, pinning him in place.

And above him, carved into the stone wall, were the words:

WELCOME HOME, YOUR MAJESTY.

Darius immediately shifted, blocking Luna’s view.

“Don’t look,” he said.

“I already did,” she replied.

“Then look at me.”

She did.

“I’m fine,” she said automatically.

“You don’t need to be,” he answered.

Evelyn stepped closer, pointing toward the floor. “Symbols under the blood.”

Fragments of a crown had been drawn in ash and blood, circling the message like a ritual seal.

Luna moved forward despite herself.

Her mark flared sharply.

“I know this crown,” she whispered.

“From where?” Darius asked.

“I don’t know.”

She closed her eyes.

And the memory came.

A throne room flooded with sunlight. A crown split in two, held by opposing hands. Two rulers standing where one should have been.

Then pain.

The vision shattered.

She stumbled, and Darius caught her instantly.

“It belonged to both of them,” she said breathlessly.

Before anyone could respond, the corpse moved.

Black smoke poured from its mouth like something being born backward.

“That’s not possible,” Evelyn whispered.

Then the voice filled the room.

The Shadow King.

“Welcome home.”

Darius’s growl was immediate. “You don’t speak to her.”

“She spoke to me first,” the voice replied.

Luna stepped forward despite the danger. “Why the crown?”

A pause.

“Because it was hers.”

The words struck deeper than they should have.

“You were meant to rule together,” Luna said slowly, as if testing the truth of it.

Silence answered her.

“She chose him,” the voice said at last. “Kael.”

Darius went rigid.

Pain detonated through the bond.

He dropped to one knee.

“Darius!” Luna reached for him.

The name echoed in the room like a fracture splitting stone.

The corpse smiled.

“He’s forgotten you.”

Golden light erupted from Luna, flooding the chamber. It burned through the black smoke, forcing it back.

“Come back,” she said urgently.

Darius lifted his head slowly, eyes unfocused, ancient with something buried too deep to name.

Then, barely audible, he whispered:

“Solara.”

Luna went cold.

The name did not belong to her.

Darius pulled back as if struck, breathing uneven.

“I remember,” he said hoarsely.

“The sword,” he whispered again, as if it had just been placed back into his hands after lifetimes.

“And you were holding it.”