The Last Moonborn

The moon turned red the night the kingdom remembered her. For seventeen years, the people of Elarion had believed the Moonborn bloodline was extinct. They were wrong. Deep inside the ancient royal palace, beneath towers carved from black stone and silver marble, the royal bells began to ring. Once. Twice. Then thirteen times. King Aldric rose from his throne. No one had touched the bells. No one dared speak. The royal court stared toward the enormous windows as silver light flooded the throne room. The moon outside had changed. Its usual pale glow had disappeared beneath a strange crimson halo. “The prophecy,” an old adviser whispered. The king's face hardened. “Do not say that word.” But the palace had already heard it. And so had she. Far from the royal palace, a young woman woke suddenly beneath a blanket of darkness. Her name was Lyra Vale. She sat upright, clutching her chest. Something was burning beneath her skin. Lyra gasped as a thin silver mark appeared across her palm. A crescent moon. She had seen the mark before. In nightmares. In the dreams she had never understood. But tonight, it was real. The room filled with silver light. Her window flew open. The wind rushed inside, scattering the curtains as if something invisible had entered with it. Then a voice whispered from the darkness. “Come home, Moonborn.” Lyra froze. Home? She had never been to the royal palace. At least, that was what she had been told. Her mother had spent seventeen years warning her never to go near Elarion's capital. Never to speak about the strange dreams. Never to show anyone the silver mark. And above all— Never use her magic. Lyra looked down at her glowing palm. “I don't have magic,” she whispered. The room shook. A crack appeared across the wooden floor. Silver light poured through it. Lyra stumbled backward. Then the voice came again. “You are the last.” Her heart stopped. Before she could respond, the mark on her palm released a burst of light. Across the kingdom, every candle inside the royal palace went out. Every magical crystal shattered. And somewhere inside the palace, a locked door that had remained sealed for seventeen years slowly opened. Behind it was a forgotten throne. And sitting upon that throne was a crown made of moonstone. The crown began to glow. The last Moonborn had awakened. And the kingdom was about to remember why it had feared her bloodline. --- At sunrise, royal soldiers arrived at Lyra's home. She knew immediately that something was wrong. Her mother stood beside the door, pale and trembling. “Lyra,” she whispered. “What is happening?” Her mother looked at the soldiers outside. Then at the silver mark on Lyra's hand. For the first time in seventeen years, fear filled her eyes. “They found you.” “Who?” “The royal family.” Lyra's stomach tightened. “Why would they want me?” Her mother reached for her face. “Because you are not who I told you you were.” Before Lyra could ask another question, the door burst open. Six soldiers entered. Behind them stood a man dressed entirely in black. He was young. Powerful. And strangely calm. His eyes met Lyra's. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then his gaze dropped to the silver crescent glowing on her palm. Something unreadable flashed across his face. “You're coming with me,” he said. Lyra lifted her chin. “Who are you?” He stepped closer. “Prince Kael Arden.” The name struck something deep inside her. She had heard it in her dreams. The prince of Elarion. The kingdom's most feared royal heir. And, according to every story her mother had ever told her, the man she was never supposed to meet. Kael looked at her for a long moment. Then he said quietly, “Your Highness.” Lyra stared at him. The room went silent. Her mother began to cry. And Lyra finally understood. She wasn't being taken to the palace as a prisoner. She was being taken home. To a throne she had never known existed. And to a destiny that had been waiting for her since the night she was born.