A cage beneath the moon
1156 Words
CHAPTER THREE
They took me underground.
Not to a dungeon, not to a cell with bars and chains meant for criminals. The Moon Goddess didn’t need iron to hold me.
She used belief.
The sanctum lay beneath the old temple ruins, carved into stone so ancient the walls hummed with residual magic. Pale symbols glowed faintly as I was dragged down narrow steps, the air growing colder with every descent.
The silver chains bit into my wrists, heavy with divine energy. Each step sent a dull ache through my bones, like my body was resisting the place as much as my mind was.
I did not cry.
Not when the priestesses shoved me forward.
Not when the doors sealed behind me with a sound like stone grinding against bone.
Not when the silence pressed in so thick it felt alive.
The chamber was circular, the ceiling low and etched with lunar runes that pulsed softly, reacting to my presence. A single shaft of moonlight pierced through a crack in the stone above, illuminating the center of the room.
That was where they left me.
At the mercy of a goddess who hated me enough to erase me from fate.
The chains vanished the moment the doors closed.
I staggered, nearly falling, my knees buckling as the weight of divine pressure settled over me. It wasn’t pain exactly—more like being constantly reminded that I did not belong here.
Or anywhere.
I pressed my palms to the cold stone floor and forced myself to breathe.
Don’t break.
I didn’t know where the thought came from. Maybe from my mother’s voice, long ago. Maybe from something deeper—older—stirring now that the Goddess had finally turned her full attention on me.
The air shifted.
I didn’t need to look up to know she was there.
“Still standing,” Selunara said mildly. “How disappointing.”
Moonlight gathered in the center of the chamber, coalescing into a figure made of silver and shadow. She was more beautiful than any mortal woman had the right to be—tall, radiant, her features sharp with divine perfection.
Her eyes were empty.
She circled me slowly, bare feet never touching the stone. “Do you know how many centuries it has been since something surprised me?”
I lifted my head. “Do you know how many years it’s been since I cared what you thought?”
Her hand struck my face before I finished the sentence.
The blow snapped my head to the side, pain flaring sharp and hot. I tasted blood.
Selunara smiled. “There it is. That defiance.”
She crouched in front of me, fingers curling into my chin, forcing me to meet her gaze. “It runs in your blood. I cut it out once. I will do so again.”
I swallowed, refusing to look away. “You didn’t cut it out. You missed.”
Her eyes darkened.
The pressure in the room intensified, slamming into me from all sides. I cried out as invisible force crushed me to the floor, pinning me there. My ribs screamed in protest, lungs struggling to expand.
“You should not exist,” the Goddess hissed. “You were never meant to draw breath, never meant to pull at what is mine.”
Mine.
The word echoed painfully.
“Kael is not yours,” I rasped.
Her laughter rang out, sharp and cruel. “Everything under the moon is mine.”
She rose, towering over me. “He was chosen long before you were conceived. Groomed. Bound. Loyal.”
I thought of his eyes—burning gold, furious and unyielding—even as divine power crushed him to his knees.
“You don’t own him,” I said.
Selunara’s hand lifted.
Agony ripped through my chest.
Not the dull ache of her magic—but something deeper. Hotter. Alive.
I gasped, arching against the stone as fire spread beneath my skin, centered just above my heart.
The bond.
It flared in response, raw and furious, as if reacting to my pain.
Across the distance—through stone, through magic, through divine wards—I felt him.
Kael.
The sensation was sudden and overwhelming. Heat. Rage. A presence so solid it made my breath hitch.
Lyra.
His voice wasn’t sound. It wasn’t words.
It was knowing.
Tears stung my eyes before I could stop them.
Selunara froze.
Her head snapped toward me. “What did you do?”
I laughed breathlessly, even as pain wracked my body. “I existed.”
The Goddess’s face twisted with fury. She slammed her power down, severing the connection like a blade.
The emptiness that followed hurt worse.
“You will not touch him,” she snarled. “You will not whisper to him. You will not weaken him.”
I dragged in a shaky breath, forcing myself upright despite the tremor in my limbs. “You’re afraid.”
The word tasted dangerous.
Selunara stared at me, perfectly still.
“You wouldn’t bother with this,” I continued quietly. “With me. If I didn’t matter.”
For a moment—just one—something flickered in her eyes.
Then it vanished.
“You will be forgotten,” she said coldly. “By him. By everyone.”
She gestured, and the moonlight overhead dimmed until the chamber was plunged into near darkness. Only the faint glow of the runes remained.
“I will visit again,” Selunara added. “Until you learn your place.”
The light vanished.
The silence rushed back in.
I curled onto my side, clutching my chest as the bond throbbed painfully beneath my skin. The ache wasn’t just physical—it was longing, sharp and relentless.
He was out there.
Angry. Fighting. Bound by chains far heavier than mine.
And he had felt me.
That mattered more than the Goddess would ever admit.
I didn’t know how long I lay there—minutes, hours, days. Time slipped strangely in the sanctum, the moonlight above waxing and waning without warning.
But the bond never went quiet.
Each time I closed my eyes, I felt him straining against something vast and cruel. Each time I drifted toward sleep, warmth brushed my awareness, like hands that couldn’t quite touch.
I’m here, I thought fiercely. I’m not broken.
The runes on the walls flickered.
A new presence stirred.
Not divine.
Not priestess.
Something older.
The air shifted, carrying a whisper that did not belong to the Moon Goddess.
Little moonless one…
I sat up slowly, heart pounding.
The shadows deepened, curling inward toward me like listening things.
She fears you, the voice murmured. And gods do not fear what they can control.
My skin prickled.
“Who are you?” I whispered.
The shadows smiled.
Someone who remembers the world before her.
The bond flared again—stronger this time.
And far away, an Alpha lifted his head and roared.
- Writer
