The fairy who Dances with Shadows

Final Trials

I woke in the east wing of Vaeluna Palace, the suite prepared by the queen’s attendants soft and silent around me. Morning birds sang their tunes, reminding the world that it was a new day. The faint hum of enchantments in the walls reminded me that I was far from my room in the Moon Kingdom. I sat up slowly, blinking away sleep.

My head ached—not from physical injury, but from the weight of memory. I remembered falling asleep in Liora’s arms under the pine tree. A bitter chuckle escaped my lips, followed by a groan as the full embarrassment struck me. She must have carried me here. My delicate, radiant little mate had likely flown me across the sky like a slumbering child.

Fae strength was remarkable. It made me wonder—what gave them such supernatural power in such graceful frames? My mind wandered to the Aerelith ants. Tiny marvels. Their delicate, neon-tinged wings shimmered like light through stained glass. They could lift ten times their weight and move at the speed of hummingbirds. Deadly, elusive, and prized as an ingredient in strength-enhancing potions. Nearly impossible to catch, but beautiful to behold. Nature's contradiction—fragile yet fierce.

I stood and stretched before heading to the bathing chamber. The warm water washed away the forest scent clinging to my skin. I closed my eyes as the memory of her—Princess Seltheris—flashed behind my eyelids. A part of me still wished she were nearby. Not for love. Not even for closure.

I wanted to crack open that demented mind and see what poison brewed inside it.

But vengeance wasn’t worth the risk. Peace between realms was fragile, and the damage Noctyra’s followers had already inflicted on the Moon Kingdom still lingered. The scars were fresh—for them and for me.

After drying off, I inspected my hand. The spot where the dagger meant for Liora had nicked me was still inflamed, a bright red scar marring otherwise unblemished skin. Just below it, I saw my mate mark.

Her wings.

They pulsed with faint magic, etched into my wrist like a brand of fate. My breath caught. I longed to see her.

I dressed quickly and made my way down to the banquet hall where breakfast was underway. The formalities of the suitor trials appeared to have been paused—for now. Plates lined the table, each prepared to accommodate the diverse tastes of the attendees. There were sun-dried fruits and cheeses for the Blossomreach lord, roasted winter roots for the Frostmere delegation, spiced meats for Vermior, and even blood sausages for me.

It was a diplomatic buffet.

I looked around the hall, expecting to see her—my moon-moth fairy—but she wasn’t there. None of the princesses were.

Only the queen sat at the high table, flanked by the Grove Wardens and the remaining suitors. Her expression was unreadable, her fingers lightly tapping the armrest of her throne.

Something was brewing. And I had a feeling it wasn’t just tea.

The queen stood, her presence commanding instant silence.

"The final trial begins today," she announced. "Each of my daughters has been hidden somewhere within Vaeluna—a place where she feels most at peace. If you have paid attention, if you truly know her heart, you will find her with ease."

A low murmur swept across the table.

"You will have until sundown. The order in which each princess is found will determine the order of betrothals. Failure to find your chosen princess will result in immediate disqualification."

A sharp gasp followed, quickly hushed by a glare from the Grovewarden of Blossomreach.

The queen’s voice softened, but not her gaze. "This is not a game. It is a matter of heart, intuition, and connection. If you do not know where she finds peace, how can you claim to bring her happiness?"

She sat back, lifting a delicate crystal bell.

Its chime rang out, clear and unyielding.

"One final thing," she added with an amused smile. "To ensure the princesses could not aid any of you, they’ve been put to sleep—enchanted into a slumber too deep to awaken on their own. And before you think to track them by scent, don't bother. The method I used renders scent useless. Good luck."

With that, the trial began.

Vermior immediately stood, his face a mixture of panic and dawning realization. Without a word, he strode from the room, heading straight toward the palace mausoleum—where the prince consort, the princesses' late father, was buried.

Sage hesitated only a breath before rising with quiet confidence. He made his way toward the grand library, a place where Irisel often retreated.

I stood, considering everything I knew of Liora. Only one place came to mind.

Her healing spa.

When I arrived, two fae guards flanked the massive crystalline doors. They stepped aside, wordless, allowing me entry. Inside, the scent of lavender, moon jasmine, and eucalyptus lingered in the air. And there she was.

Suspended in midair, enclosed in a glass-like container, Liora looked ethereal. Her silver lashes rested softly on her cheeks. Her wings glowed faintly beneath the sheer folds of her gown. She looked like a dream.

I circled the container three times. No doors. No keyholes.

I placed my hand on the smooth surface—and was instantly zapped.

A glowing riddle appeared:

"What beats though it has no drum,

What bleeds yet knows no wound,

What breaks but still endures,

To heal, you must name its cure."

I chuckled under my breath.

Of course it wouldn’t be easy.

But the answer—

I had a feeling it was something only I could give.

Noctis read it once, twice, then exhaled. Not a lock. Not a fight. A healer’s puzzle. Our puzzle.

He scanned the spa. If Liora had been forced to set this test, she would’ve hidden the needed ingredients in the only place she truly felt safe. He rolled his sleeves and began his search.