The fairy who Dances with Shadows

The Gardens Of Vaeluna

Noctis

The gardens of Vaeluna shimmered under the moonlight, a vision conjured from dream and stardust. Floating petals glided gently through the air, drifting from trees with silver-tipped blossoms. The bioluminescent river nearby pulsed in hues of blue and lavender, casting radiant reflections that danced on the cobblestone path. Tall silver lightposts, each filled with softly glowing fireflies, lined the walkway. Overhead, the sky stretched wide and endless, blanketed in more stars than could ever be counted.

She looked ravishing. No other word would suffice. The tulip silk dress hugged every curve, its subtle shimmer making her appear ethereal. I couldn’t look away. From the cut of her gown to the way the moonlight kissed her cheekbones, she was an ache in my chest, a hunger in my soul.

The hunger in my chest became something tangible, like a flame brushing against my skin. I stepped closer, towering yet gentle, my scent curling in the air between us—a blend of cedarwood, aged ink, and the faint metallic tang of magic. I tilted her chin upward and kissed her—our first real kiss.

It was slow, reverent at first, but quickly deepened. Her lips were soft, warm, trembling against mine. She tasted of jasmine and nervous anticipation. And me? I tasted of apple cider—spiced and sweet from the Embercrust Tart I’d eaten earlier. Our mouths moved together like they’d known each other for lifetimes. Her body pressed against mine, firm yet delicate, her curves molding into the hardness of my chest.

I traced kisses along the graceful column of her throat, down to her collarbone, brushing the hollow with my mouth. My lips continued their journey down her arm, lingering at her wrist and ending with a kiss pressed against the back of her delicate hand. When our eyes met again, time ceased to exist. She trembled beneath my touch, the scent of her desire faint but unmistakable—jasmine and the sweet blush of fae magic.

Then I stopped.

A part of her wished I hadn’t—I could see it in her eyes. But laughter echoed nearby, drawing our attention. She turned her head and gasped.

Myrelle was just beyond the hedge, giving Vermior a tour. The dragon prince, now free of his armor, was laughing—actually laughing.

Liora grabbed my hand and tugged me behind a flowering tree. In a blink, I swept her into my arms and relocated us with vampiric speed. From behind the wide trunk, we peeked around.

Vermior was smiling. Open. Relaxed. A different man.

"This must be the freedom he said he was seeking," I murmured.

"What do you mean?"

I shook my head slowly, still watching. "Tell me how you’ve been."

She hesitated.

Then I saw it—the tears. Her eyes brimmed and spilled over before a single word passed her lips.

My chest tightened. I stepped forward, gently cupped her face, and pressed my forehead to hers. She was too light in my arms. Her scent had dulled since I last held her. My healer’s instincts flared.

From my pocket, I retrieved a small wrapped candy.

"Here."

She took it and popped it into her mouth. Her lips parted in surprise.

"Mmm... tangy. Lemon?"

"Sunchime Drop. Lemon, chamomile, and enchanted honey. From the Oasis Pack territory—my own recipe. I give them to patients when they’re suffering from melancholia. I've only ever seen it happen to wolves that have lost their mates."

"Why me?"

I withdrew a silk handkerchief and dabbed her cheeks. Her tears shimmered in the starlight.

"Because my love, I know you’re struggling. I may not be an expert in fairy physiology, but I know you well enough to understand that something’s wrong. Your wings are glowing, yes—but there is sleeplessness in your eyes. You’re thinner than I remember, and your tears say more than words ever could. Whatever’s hurting you—I’ll fix it."

"I’m so sorry," she whispered. "You nearly died because of me. If I hadn’t summoned you..."

I silenced her with a kiss. Gentle. Certain.

Then, I raised my wrist.

Her breath caught.

Wings—her wings—etched in silver and moonlight. No two in the realm had the same pattern.

"They’re mine," she said, voice shaking.

"A gift from the Moon Goddess. The moment I saw you, I received my mate mark. I’ve waited three centuries for you, Liora. I’ll never let go."

She blushed. Her wings shimmered and began to glow, casting a soft pink light in the dark garden.

Her heart had chosen me.

And I, her.

We decided to continue our tour elsewhere. My gliding was harder to notice than her fluttering, so I picked her up in my arms bridal style and we glided above the treetops, away from the garden. From here, all of Vaeluna stretched below us—the glittering glass castle, the blooming gardens, and the star-speckled city, each glowing home like a fallen star. This entire kingdom was built to sparkle.

She pointed toward a cascading waterfall, beneath which sat a colossal tree.

I landed softly at its roots. There, nestled into the trunk, was a beautifully carved door etched with runes.

"This is my spa," she said.

I smiled, remembering how she used to ramble about this dream of hers. It was exactly as she had once described.

She led me inside, where warmth and floral steam greeted us like an embrace. Healing pools glistened, fed by the waterfall above and steamed with fae magic—Sunstride Plains magic, she explained, taught to her by its Grovewarden. The air smelled of eucalyptus, moonbloom, and sun-kissed herbs.

Next, she showed me her herb room. The doctor in me was utterly fascinated. Dozens of dried bundles hung from the ceiling, their fragrances mingling like a living apothecary. There were more rare herbs here than I had ever seen in one place.

My eyes landed on a giant moon blossom—soft and luminous. Each fairy received only one in their lifetime, gifted by the Mother Tree. I had only read about them. Seeing one in person felt sacred.

I reached out and gently touched a petal. It vibrated beneath my fingers.

I recoiled.

"It’s responding to you," Liora said. "Because you’re my mate. It resonates with your soul."

"And if I wasn’t?" I asked.

She shrugged. "It would curse you."

As if that were perfectly normal.

From there, we talked recipes. She showed me her lab, her tinctures and powders, her organized cabinets and handwritten scrolls of patient plans. We discussed treatments and potions, diagnoses and symptoms. Hours passed without our notice. Our laughter and ideas filled the space like music.

It was as if no time had passed at all. I watched her in awe, her beauty filling a hollow in my soul. Her laughter was like a warm drink after a bitter winter frost, thawing parts of me I didn’t know had frozen. With every passing second, I fell deeper—my desire growing, relentless.

She moved through the space like moonlight, always just a little too close. Perhaps on purpose. Perhaps to test my control.

Eventually, I broke.

I caught her in my arms and kissed her again—hungrily, reverently, one kiss at a time. Her soft moans rose between us, mingling with the distant rush of the waterfall. The sound was music, temptation incarnate. I knew I had to stop. If we kept going, there was no telling what lines we might cross.

But when I tried to pull away, she fluttered her wings and wrapped her legs around my waist.

This little hummingbird had no idea the flower she’d perched on had an appetite three centuries in the making.