Shadow of the Moon

Chapter 32

Kyros

My entire body was ablaze. Agony seared through every nerve, my skin burning, my lungs aching with each shallow breath. Am I dead? I wondered, my mind was hazy with pain. The last thing I remembered was Estella's tear-streaked face, her voice, a desperate cry in the chaos. It must have been a dream, I thought, my consciousness slipping in and out of a feverish haze.

I shifted, a groan escaping my lips as a sharp pain tore through my side. I felt a burning sensation in my chest, a coldness that seeped into my bones. I tried to move my legs, to kick away the heavy blankets that suffocated me. Wait. These weren't my blankets. These weren't the silken sheets of my chambers in the castle.

This was... different.

I forced my eyes open, my vision blurry, the world around me a hazy mix of colors and shadows. I blinked, trying to focus, to make sense of my surroundings. I was in a room, a small, dimly lit chamber with walls of rough-hewn stone and lined tapestries depicting scenes of a moonlit forest. The air was cool and damp, filled with the scent of pine needles and damp earth.

This wasn't Eloria. This wasn't my home.

I moved to sit up, my breaths coming in ragged gasps as pain shot through my side. I looked down to see I was bare-chested, bare other than the bandage wrapped around my middle. Panic flared in my chest, a wave of disorientation and fear. Where was I? What had happened?

"Take it easy," a soft, soothing voice said, cutting through the fog in my mind.

A pair of cool hands pressed against my forehead, easing the pounding in my head. I turned to see a young fae female, her eyes as silver as moonlight, her midnight black hair twisted into an elaborate braid. She held a cup filled with water, offering it to me with a gentle smile.

"Drink," she urged, her voice gentle.

I took the cup, the cool liquid soothing my parched throat. As I drank, I couldn't help but notice the strange symbols tattooed on her skin, intricate patterns that seemed to glow under the dim light. They were markings I didn't recognize, symbols of a magic that was both foreign and familiar. The longer I stared, the more I recognized the symbols on her left arm, the swirls of ink spelled out names. Names written in an ancient language spoken only by the gods. Her right arm was a jumble of runes and symbols I did not recognize.

Her face was what caught my attention. There was something familiar about her, a hint of a memory, a fleeting image from a dream. Yet, I knew I had never met her before. Her silver eyes held a depth of wisdom and compassion that belied her youth, a knowing gaze that seemed to pierce my soul. I searched my memory, my mind hazy with pain and confusion.

"Lynx?" I rasped, my voice raw and unfamiliar. Had I been screaming? I couldn't remember.

She nodded, taking the cup from my grasp. Her face, framed by the thick braid of midnight hair, was so young, so like Estella's had been when I last saw her. Lynx. The realization hit me like a thunderbolt. This was Lynx, Estella's younger sister, the one who had been with her at the border. The one who was the same age as Kaelen, my lost brother, the brother I would never see again.

The thought twisted a knife in my heart, a fresh wave of grief washing over me. Kaelen, with his gentle smile and unwavering loyalty, would never get to experience life, to find love, to fulfill his potential. And it was all my fault. If I hadn't left for the East, if I had stayed in Eloria to protect my family, perhaps he would still be alive.

"Where am I?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. The question hung in the air, heavy with confusion and a growing sense of dread. I was in Tenebris, I knew that much. But where? And why? What had happened to me? And where was Estella?

"We brought you to the palace," Lynx explained, her voice calm and steady, "so our healers could tend to your wounds." She paused, her gaze fixed on mine, her expression serious. "Your lung was pierced, and you were choking on blood. Your heart had even stopped because of the electrical currents. Not to mention the poison that was extremely tricky to remove." She was direct, straightforward, a trait I admired. Her voice was thick with an accent that I hadn’t heard in a long time.

I absorbed her words, my mind slowly piecing together the fragments of my memory. The fight with Raedon, the searing pain, the overwhelming darkness... I had been close to death, I realized, closer than I had ever been before. And these people had saved me, despite the pain that my people had brought.

"How long was I unconscious?" My voice was raspy, my throat dry. I had to know. How long had I left my mother alone in that viper's nest? Did she think I was dead? Worry gnawed at me, a sharp counterpoint to the lingering ache in my side.

"A day has passed since we brought you here," Lynx replied, her silver eyes filled with a gentle concern. "You gave us quite a fright, you know." She tilted her head, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "My sister nearly had a heart attack when she saw you."

Relief washed over me. A day. Just a day. My mother would be alright. She was strong, resilient, more than capable of handling herself in the face of Pheonix’s and Raedon's treachery.

"Thank you," I rasped. "For saving me."

"Don't thank me," Lynx said, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "I did nothing but sit here and look pretty."

She paused, her expression turning serious. "It's my sister you should thank. She's the one who dragged your big ass through the shimmer and scared off that horrible brother of yours."

"Where is she?" I asked, my voice hoarse with urgency. I sat up, ignoring the pain shooting through me as I tried to mask the desperation I felt, the overwhelming need to see her. To confirm that she was real, that our reunion wasn't just a figment of my fevered imagination.

Lynx's gaze drifted towards the window, her brow furrowing with a hint of worry. "She..." she began, then hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "She had to deal with some grouchy old men," she finally said, "but she should be back any moment." A mischievous glint sparkled in her eyes.

"Grouchy old men?" I echoed, my brow furrowing in confusion.

Lynx went to speak, but both of our attention was caught by the wooden door creaking open.

"Lynx, how is he...?" Estella stood in the doorway, her eyes wide, her words fading into a breathless gasp as she took in my conscious form. Her gaze swept over me, taking in the bandages, the lingering pallor of my skin, the faint lines of pain that still etched my face.

"I would say he's awake," Lynx said with a playful wink towards me before slipping past her frozen sister. She closed the door behind her, leaving Estella and me alone.

The weight of our reunion hung heavy in the air, a silence filled with unspoken emotions. We stared at each other, our gazes locked, a silent conversation passing between us, a symphony of relief, joy, and a love that had endured years of separation and hardship.

It was as if I was seeing her for the first time, and perhaps I was. We had been so young the last time we saw one another, mere children playing at the edges of our worlds. We were still young, but the girl I remembered had blossomed into a woman, a queen.

Though her face was partially obscured by a green cloth, her beauty was undeniable. Her long, white hair cascaded down her back, a shimmering waterfall of moonlight. Her eyes, those captivating violet orbs, seemed to pierce my soul, a stark contrast to the dim torchlight. She was breathtaking, a vision of ethereal beauty that made my heart ache with a longing I had suppressed for far too long.

And as I looked at her, I knew that this was more than just a reunion. It was a homecoming, a reuniting of two halves that had been separated for far too long, two souls destined to be together.

The silence stretched between us, but it was not an uncomfortable silence. It was a silence filled with understanding, with an unspoken language.

In that silence, I knew that I would do everything in my power to protect her, to cherish her, to be with her, no matter the cost.

I moved, my body stiff and aching as I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. A sharp pain shot through my side, a reminder of the battle that had nearly claimed my life. Estella, sensing my discomfort, rushed to my side, her hands gentle as she steadied me. Her touch, soft and warm, sent a shiver down my spine, a strange mix of comfort and longing.

As she hovered over me, her face partially obscured by the mask, I yearned to see her fully. I wanted to memorize every detail of her face, every curve of her lips, every flicker in her eyes.

I reached out, my fingers trembling as they brushed against the edge of the mask. With a gentle tug, I pulled the fabric down, revealing her face.

In that moment, time seemed to stop.

Her eyes, wide and full of concern, met mine, their violet depths shimmering with a thousand unspoken emotions.

My gaze dropped to her lips, now exposed and vulnerable. A jagged scar marred her face, a harsh contrast to the delicate features of her beautiful face. The scar, a testament to the pain and suffering she had endured, twisted my heart. A wave of anger, a primal urge to protect her, surged through me.

Who had dared to hurt her, to mar her perfection? The thought ignited a fire within me, a fierce protectiveness that consumed me.

I reached out, my fingers trembling as they neared her face, wanting to trace the delicate curve of her jaw, to soothe the pain etched in her eyes. But she flinched, taking a step back, her hands instinctively rising to cover the scar. Her eyes, wide with fear and confusion, darted away from me.

"Estella," I said, my voice raw with emotion, my heart aching at her reaction. "I’m sorry. I..."

I faltered, unsure how to express the emotions that surged within me. The sight of her scar, a physical manifestation of the pain she had endured, ignited a fierce protectiveness within me, a need to shield her from any further harm.

She turned her back to me, her shoulders tense, her body language a clear indication of her discomfort.

"I should go get the healer," she muttered, her voice barely audible, a desperate attempt to escape the vulnerability of the moment.

"No," I said, my voice firm but gentle. "Wait."

I couldn't let her leave. Not now. Not after all this time. Ignoring the throbbing pain in my side, I pushed myself off the bed, my bare feet hitting the cool stone floor. I crossed the room in a few quick strides, reaching her just as her hand grasped the doorknob. My arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back against my chest, our bodies flush against each other.

Estella stiffened, her breath catching in her throat. But then, slowly, she relaxed, her muscles unfurling as if she were a flower opening to the sun. She leaned her head back, resting it against my shoulder, her body molding to mine. I bent my head, my forehead resting against her collarbone, our breaths mingling in the quiet intimacy of the room.

I inhaled deeply, savoring her scent, the warmth of her skin, the feeling of her in my arms. It was a comforting familiarity that soothed my soul, a balm against the pain and turmoil of the past years. I turned my head, my nose brushing against her neck, inhaling her sweet fragrance, a heady mix of lavender and pine that sent a shiver of desire through me.

But as soon as our skin touched, a wave of fear washed over her, her scent turning sharp and cold. Her body stiffened, and I felt her tremble against me.

I instantly released her, my heart sinking. "I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice filled with regret. "I didn't mean to..."

She turned to face me, her eyes brimming with tears. I felt a pang of guilt, a sharp twist in my gut. I had scared her, forced myself upon her, assuming that she felt the same way I did. She had saved me, yes, but that didn't mean she wanted me in the way I needed her.

My heart ached with the realization that I had misread her signals, that my eagerness to be close to her had caused her distress. I needed to apologize, to explain, but the words seemed to catch in my throat, trapped by a fear of rejection, a fear of shattering the fragile connection we had forged.

As if reading my thoughts, she closed the distance between us, her hands cupping my face. Her eyes, filled with a mix of compassion and understanding, met mine. "No, Kyros," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "You didn't..." Her voice trailed off, her words lost in the silence.

Just then, the door creaked open, breaking the spell that had fallen over us. A small female, her hair streaked with silver, stepped into the room. Her eyes widened in surprise as she took in the scene before her.

"Your Majesty," she said, her voice filled with a mix of shock and concern.

Estella pulled away from me, her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink. "Jesa," she managed to say, her voice barely a whisper. She tugged the fabric of her mask back up, concealing the lower half of her face once more, a gesture that both saddened and frustrated me.

"I figured I'd check in and see how he's faring," Jesa replied, her gaze shifting between Estella and me, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "I need to check his wound."