The Day They Buried Their Luna

THE BLACK FORTRESS

Lysara’s POV

The stunned silence following Vaelric’s statement didn’t last long – no more than a heartbeat.

“Then we move now,” I stated, turning towards the door.

My heart began to beat again with new purpose. Ten days – each hour spent free by Kaelor and Seris was another hour rewriting my existence.

Three steps from the bed, and I fell sideways.

Piercing pain ripped through my legs, my knees about to give out underneath me.

I was caught by the arm before I hit the floor, Vaelric’s strong grip keeping me standing.

“Ten days isn’t a plan, Lysara,” he spoke softly. “It’s a death sentence.”

I wrenched my arm out of his hold.

“Do you think I’m not aware of that?”

“I know exactly how much time they stole from me.”

His face was still calm.

“You’re not able to stand on your own feet without collapsing.”

“I will learn.”

“No.”

“You’ll die.”

His words sliced through the air between us like cold metal.

“I did not drag you out of that dungeon only for you to waste your life in ten days.”

His voice was not full of anger.

Almost…

scared.

But before any of us were able to say anything else, Ronan stepped between us.

“Enough.”

We continued to stare into one another’s eyes without moving an inch.

“Lord Vaelric.” Ronan addressed my friend.

Then at me.

“Lysara.”

“Seven days,” Ronan spoke firmly.

I frowned.

“What?”

“Seven days to heal.”

“Seven days to teach you not to die.”

He moved slowly around me, as if examining some new recruit.

“You are weak.”

“You have lost your survival instinct.”

“You do not know our land.”

“You do not know our enemies.”

“And you have no idea how many kingdoms will be happy to sell you back to Silvercrest.”

His gaze turned harder.

“If we leave today…”

“None of us will make it to our destination alive.”

I loathed every single word because he was right.

Vaelric nodded eventually.

“A week.”

So reluctantly did I follow.

The next day the Black Fortress seemed oddly tranquil.

The smell of fresh bread wafted through the corridors.

Servants scrubbed ancient stone floors while warriors repaired armor damaged in the fight from the previous night.

Life went on.

As if death were merely an other task completed.

Outside the council chamber, a young servant approached carrying a silver tray.

Her hands shook so badly that water dripped onto the floor.

"I'm sorry," she murmured in haste.

She knelt to clean up the mess.

As she worked she mumbled beneath her breath.

"I've never seen someone stay inside the Inner Fortress so long…"

I blinked.

"What did you say?"

She froze completely, her entire body shaking.

She slowly raised her head to look at me.

Fear shone in her eyes instantly.

"I…"

She swallowed.

"I didn't mean…"

I crouched beside her.

"I'm not angry."

"What did you mean?"

She glanced quickly toward the hallway.

Then toward the guards.

"They don't…"

She lowered her voice.

"…bring outsiders into here."

"Why?"

She opened her mouth.

Footsteps sounded close by.

Her face turned white.

"I've said too much."

She dropped the tray completely and rushed off.

One of the older servants immediately collected the overturned cups without a glance at me.

None of them answered my questions.

The silence spoke volumes.

Whatever secrets lurked within the Black Fortress…

were guarded just as fiercely as the walls themselves.

That night I fled to the western ramparts.

Below stretched endless black mountains bathed in silver moonlight.

Cold air tugged at my hair.

For the first time since the dungeon…

I felt like I could breathe again.

Footsteps came quietly up behind me.

No need for me to turn around.

Vaelric stood beside me.

Neither of us spoke for several minutes.

Then finally I broke the silence.

"I saw your grief."

His jaw clenched.

"The grave."

Silence.

"The woman."

He gazed out at the mountains.

For one small second…

I thought he would answer.

Instead he said softly,

"Some wounds last longer than kingdoms."

I looked at him.

"So you intend to carry yours forever?"

A hint of sorrow passed over his face.

"I don't have any choice left."

Before I could ask another question…

He moved away from me.

“Get some sleep.”

Then he disappeared into the night, leaving me with another enigma in place of an answer.

Inside my room…

Finally, I closed the door behind myself.

No guards.

No servants.

No witnesses.

Slowly, I sat down on the floor next to my bed.

For weeks…

I managed to survive without feeling anything.

But now…

for the first time…

I allowed myself to think about it.

My daughter.

That tiny little life that I hoped for.

Future that was never going to happen.

Tears came uncontrollably.

“I’m sorry…”

I choked.

“I couldn’t protect you.”

I hid my face in my hands.

“They didn’t even give me a chance to hold you.”

Each sob was a new piece of my heart breaking.

Long after I stopped crying…

I fell asleep exhausted.

I never realized…

that there was one person standing outside my door the whole time.

Vaelric was standing alone in the hallway.

He heard each and every sobbing word.

Each apology addressed to the one who could never answer.

Not once…

not twice…

but many times…

his hand went toward the door.

And not once…

not twice…

but many times…

he stopped himself.

Finally, he whispered almost inaudibly only for the empty hallway to hear.

“No mother should have to bury her child.”

Then he left before the sun came up.

Next morning…

I saw Ronan standing in front of my room.

That hard look was back in his face.

Several pieces of folded clothes and a leather folder with papers were in his hands.

“If you are going back to Silvercrest…”

“You will not come back as Lysara Ashwyn.”

He spread the papers out on the table.

“A new identity.”

“A new home town.”

“A new family.”

“A job.”

He pushed another paper closer to me.

“You will be a healer.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“I’ve never cured anyone.”

“You’ve spent enough time assisting the palace physicians during the winter festivals.”

He did his homework.

“But the most important thing is…”

He fixed his gaze on me.

“That you have to believe all those lies yourself.”

“Because no experienced interrogator listens to your words.”

“They study your eyes.”

While he was explaining me my new past…

he suddenly stopped talking.

Without any warning—

He jumped.

Pure instinct took control over me.

I shifted sideways.

His hand missed my shoulder.

I grabbed his wrist.

Leaned.

And tossed him off-balance just enough to pull away.

It caught him by surprise as much as me.

I took a quick step back and got into a defensive position.

Breathing heavy.

There was silence.

Even the guards nearby looked shocked.

Ronan straightened.

He did not look irritated…

He smiled.

Just a little bit.

"Good."

One word contained more praise than any speech could.

"You did not think."

"You acted."

He rubbed his wrist.

"The dungeon did not destroy all of your instincts."

He nodded once.

"We can work with that."

For the first time…

I felt something different.

Hope.

Not because I won.

But because someone looked at me…

And saw something more than pity.

By the evening everything had already changed.

My long silver hair turned to dark color after application of herbal dye.

The dresses of a noble Luna were replaced by the simple linen gown of a wandering healer.

Even my body language changed.

Ronan corrected my steps.

My words.

My greetings to strangers.

My reflection no longer looked like the woman who was standing near Kaelor.

He gave me one final paper.

"Your name."

I looked down.

Elara Voss.

I whispered it once.

Then twice.

Again.

Again.

Until finally…

It did not sound like another name anymore.

As the night fell over the Black Fortress, the last watch changed on the outer gates.

And then—

One horn resounded across the mountains.

Not a desperate alarm of an attack.

But a formal signal.

One visitor.

Asking for admission.

The guards rushed to the battlements.

Ronan frowned.

"No one should know about the existence of this fortress."

The face of Vaelric darkened.

"Open the viewing gate."

Far below, there was one lone mounted rider, sitting still under the moonlight.

"I bring information for the Lycan King," he called.

"And I will only speak to him."

The voice rang out clearly in the mountain air.

At the moment that I heard it…

My blood froze.

I moved closer to the castle walls.

No.

This could not be happening.

The rider pulled back his hood.

Moonlight revealed a face I knew well.

“Wren…”

The name slipped out before I could stop myself.

He looked up to meet my gaze.

In that one fleeting second…

Our eyes met.

And then I knew something terrible.

He was not surprised to see me alive.