His Luna's Gift

Chapter Six: Absence

Tamryn adjusted the sleek fabric of her blazer as she stepped into the boardroom of Whitemore Labs. Her palms were clammy, but she forced a steady breath. This was her first real presentation since joining the company, and the weight of expectations clung to her like static.

She was prepared or so she hoped. The data projections and reports were organized down to the pixel, and her speech was rehearsed to precision. Still, the absence of Silas gnawed at her composure.

She scanned the room again. The elusive CEO, wasn't here which she knew because the main sit was left empty. That, she expected. But Silas he’d been the one she’d seen regularly in the halls, the one who gave occasional nods of approval or curt critiques. He was the face she’d unconsciously started associating with leadership. His absence felt... off.

“Good morning, Ms. Rhidian,” one of the board members said as the room settled.

She dipped her head politely and began. Her voice, steady and precise, carried through the room. Slide after slide clicked into place. Data, solutions, projections all delivered with cool professionalism. Heads nodded. One member leaned forward, intrigued. Another scribbled something down.

She touched on the new neuro-link protocols, explained the synthetic compatibility pathways, and even fielded a few sharp questions with calm precision. Her confidence grew with each passing minute, her delivery smoother, her insights sharp.

As the final slide dimmed and she stepped back, the board murmured among themselves.

“Thank you, Ms. Rhidian,” the lead director said. “We'll take your recommendations under consideration. Excellent work.”

She offered a polite smile, nodded, and stepped out.

The tension in her spine released the moment the door shut behind her. She exhaled , finally. Just outside, leaning against the wall, stood Alice, a fellow researcher who’d worked with her on the neural mapping section of the project.

“You were amazing in there,” Alice said with a grin, pushing off the wall and falling into step beside her.

Tamryn smiled, her nerves still buzzing. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure if I’d made any sense at all.”

“Oh, you did. They were eating it up. Especially that bit on the synthetics ,you had them hooked.”

Tamryn laughed softly, some of the tension easing from her shoulders. “You helped with that section. Honestly, I couldn't have done it without your notes.”

Alice shrugged. “Team effort. Just don’t forget me when you're running this place.”

Tamryn gave a mock gasp. “Don’t jinx me.”

The two shared a small laugh before parting ways , Alice back to her lab, Tamryn to the quiet of her office.

Once alone, she let herself truly exhale. She leaned against her desk, looking around the minimalistic space that had quickly become familiar. Her phone buzzed with a calendar reminder, but her thoughts were still caught on Silas's absence. Why hadn’t he been there? Was it personal? Or something more official?

She sat at her desk, flipping through her handwritten notes, but her focus was gone. Eventually, she gave in, leaned back in her chair, and closed her eyes for a moment. Just a moment.

---

Far from the sterile halls of Whitemore Labs, deep within the mystical borders of Silvarium, Lucien stepped out of the obsidian vehicle that brought him through the veil. Moonlight spilled over the ancient stone path like liquid silver, casting sharp shadows between the towering evergreens. The forest bowed, whispering reverence.

Guards in dark armor knelt as he passed.

“Beta Lucien,” one of the sentries said, his voice laced with awe.

Lucien barely acknowledged him. His expression was impassive, his stride unhurried yet regal. He hated this part ,the pomp, the eyes watching for weakness. But the realm remembered its bloodlines. And the blood in his veins had once called kings to war.

As he entered the inner sanctum, robed figures flanked either side of the spiral stone steps leading to the Citadel. Candles floated midair, illuminating the ancient sigils carved into the walls. He could already feel the pulse of raw, ancient magic threading through the air.

An attendant greeted him at the grand archway of the council chamber. “The high seer awaits within, my lord.”

Lucien didn’t pause. He stepped into the sanctum, where the air crackled with energy. It was quiet,eerily so—except for the flicker of firelight in the room’s center.

A messenger approached, bowed, and handed him a sealed scroll.

Lucien broke the seal lazily, unrolled it, and his cool mask slipped.

His eyes narrowed.

The mark at the bottom of the parchment glowed faintly.

It wasn’t just a summons.

It was a warning.

And it bore the Archon's sigil.

He crushed the scroll in his hand, the magic sparking faintly as it died in his palm.

“Prepare the inner chamber,” he said to the nearest guard. “And tell Silas to return. Now.”

The seer stepped from the shadows behind the throne-like dais. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

Lucien’s gaze flicked to her. “If the Archon moves a finger, the realm trembles. And if it’s about her... then we may already be too late.”

He turned away from the chamber, shadows coiling at his heels.

Something was coming. And this time, it wasn’t just about politics.

It was prophecy.