Chapter Three: Her Last Moon
562 Words
Eighteen years ago…
The palace burned.
Smoke poured into the throne room, thick and choking, carrying the screams of the Moonborne royal guard and the howl of dying wolves. The crescent moon above the glass dome glowed red — as if it wept with them.
Queen Sylira Ravenclaw-Moonborne stood barefoot, blood on her hands, her silver crown tilted, cracked. Her long hair, once a symbol of grace, was wild and matted with ash. Her breathing was ragged. Her magic was fading.
In her arms… a baby. Barely a few days old. Wrapped in black silk stitched with tiny silver moons.
She looked down at her daughter and kissed her brow one last time.
> “I’m sorry, Aria.”
The baby cooed — soft, unaware of the world collapsing around her.
A whisper rippled from the shadows behind the throne.
> “You can’t keep her from fate, Sylira.”
She turned sharply, pressing her child closer.
> “I can keep her from death.”
A man stepped forward. Tall. Wrapped in dark. His face hidden behind a steel half-mask. His eyes burned gold.
King Thorne.
Not the villain they said he was. Not then.
He was barely more than a boy.
And he looked… broken.
> “If they find her, they’ll kill her,” Sylira said, voice cracking. “The prophecy—”
> “I know.”
> “You were meant to protect her, Thorne. You swore it.”
He stepped closer. “I will.”
> “Then take her. Take her far from here. Seal her wolf. Hide her blood. She can’t know who she is until the time is right.”
> “And you?”
She smiled — a soft, bitter thing.
> “I’ll burn with the rest of them.”
There was a beat of silence. The kind that feels like the world holding its breath.
Then Sylira unwrapped the black cloth and pressed it into Thorne’s hands.
> “This will glow when it’s time. When she’s ready to return.”
He didn’t take it.
> “I can’t raise her.”
> “You won’t have to. Give her to a low pack. Someone who won’t ask questions. She’ll be safe… if she believes she’s nothing.”
> “That’s cruel.”
> “That’s survival.”
She pressed the baby into his arms.
Aria whimpered, then settled — as if even then, she felt his soul calling to hers.
Thorne looked down at her, and something shifted in his expression.
> “Her eyes... they’re yours.”
> “They’ll break the world someday,” Sylira said. “Or save it.”
Outside, the gates fell. Roars echoed. Magic cracked the sky open.
Sylira turned toward the sound, summoning what little power she had left. Her fingers sparked silver flame. Her back straightened.
She was a Queen again.
> “Go,” she whispered. “Before they see you.”
Thorne hesitated. His jaw clenched.
> “Sylira—”
> “GO!”
And so he did.
He turned and vanished into the corridor, Aria in his arms, vanishing into smoke.
Sylira turned back to her throne, blood dripping from her fingers.
And when the doors finally broke—
She smiled.
> “For my daughter,” she whispered.
And burned.
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End of Chapter Three.
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- Writer
