The Luna is a Witch

Chapter 21:Claire

LJ is still waving her notepad like she’s ready to assign Draven a group project. Draven looks like he’d rather fight five more demons in the dark. And I… I can’t breathe. Not because LJ keeps implying Draven is in love with me (I do not have the emotional space to process THAT today). But because of the prophecy. Because of Carter. Because of me. Because of the word that still feels too big for my chest: Luna. I straighten slowly, feeling the weight of it. The fear. The responsibility. The future I didn’t ask for.

My voice shakes when I speak. “Draven?”

He freezes, looks at me instantly — like nothing in this room matters except the sound of my voice.

“What happens next?” I whisper. Draven’s expression shifts. The humor from LJ’s interrogation disappears. The teasing. The banter. All of it. His eyes darken with something heavier. Older.

“Claire…” His voice is rough. “We prepare. We ward this home. We protect Carter. We protect you. I start tracking whatever sent that crawler. We train you. We train him.”

I inhale shakily.“And the prophecy?”

His jaw flexes.“It’s already started.”

My stomach twists. “What do you mean?”

He opens his mouth, but he doesn’t get to answer. Because the air changes sharply, like the whole room takes a breath.Wind rushes downward from the broken roof — not cold, not warm, but charged.Every candle flickers. Every loose page on LJ’s notepad flips at once. Carter stirs in Draven’s arms, glowing faintly.

I freeze. I feel like that’s all I do anymore, since finding out about this prophecy. “Draven—” I whisper.

“I know,” he whispers back, standing carefully with Carter still held against him.

LJ stands on the couch.“WHY IS THE WEATHER INSIDE THE HOUSE AGAIN?!”

But I barely hear her. Because above us…Through the hole in the ceiling…The sky changes. It shifts from morning light to a strange, shimmering dusk —a gradient of soft violets and silver. Clouds form a ring directly above my apartment.

My breath catches. “What is that?” I whisper.

Draven answers without looking away: “An omen.”

A shiver runs through me. “For who?”

“For you.” The ring of clouds begins to glow — brightening until it forms a silvery halo in the sky. Draven steps closer to me without realizing it, protective instinct overriding everything. Carter lifts his sleepy head, eyes reflecting the silver light.

“Momma…” he whispers, pointing weakly.

A beam of moonlight pierces straight through the roof. Not normal moonlight. Not soft or gentle. It is a concentrated column of shimmering white-silver, pulsing like a heartbeat, aimed down at— Me. I stumble back, choking on breath.

LJ screams, “NO NO NO—TURN IT OFF—TURN IT OFF—DRAVEN WHAT IS HAPPENING—?”

Draven grabs my wrist. His voice, normally so calm, so controlled, drops into something low and reverent: “Claire… look at me.”

“I—Draven—what—”

“Don’t run.”

“I’m not—”

“Claire,” he says firmly, “Lunas don’t get omens unless their power is waking.”

I shake my head violently.“No. No no no—Draven, I didn’t ask for this—I didn’t want this—I don’t want any prophecy, I just—Carter just turned two—this isn’t—this isn’t fair—”

The light grows brighter. Draven pulls me closer, shielding Carter with his body, shielding me with his arm.

“You’re right,” he whispers in my ear. “It isn’t fair.” Something in me breaks at how gently he says it. “But it’s happening.”

The moonlight shifts — not toward Draven, or Carter, or LJ (who is chanting panicked prayers from the couch) ----toward me. It lands on my feet. Then my hands. Then my chest. Warm. Alive. A pull. A claim. Not painful, but overwhelming, like everything inside me remembers something it forgot.

Draven tightens his grip on my wrist. “Claire,” he murmurs, “look up.”

I do and the halo in the sky…shifts into the shape of a crescent moon. A voice that is not a voice

whispers through the room:“Awaken.” The light flares. I gasp— And collapse to my knees.

Draven drops beside me instantly. “CLAIRE!”

Carter starts crying. LJ shrieks and starts throwing pillows at the moonbeam. But the light doesn’t burn. It wraps around me like a second skin—warm, familiar, ancient.

Draven cups my face, panic in his voice. “Claire—stay with me—hey, look at me—Claire—what is it—?”

I blink up at him.My breath softens.Because suddenly I know why the shadow came, why Carter’s magic flared, and why the goddess appeared. I know what I am. A word rises to my lips— One I didn’t know last night. One that vibrates with recognition.

One that makes Draven inhale sharply as if I struck his soul:“Luna.”

The light fades. LJ is screaming again. Carter is clinging to Draven, glowing. Draven just stares at me. Not with fear. Not with confusion.But with something raw and reverent and impossibly ancient.

He whispers: “…I knew it.”