The peace in Vireya lasted only five days.
By the sixth, the silver leaves began to fall prematurely from the sacred trees.
By the seventh, the first child fell ill—her magic destabilized, her glow flickering like a dying ember.
By the eighth, a scout returned with a torn cloak, whispering of stolen runes and desecrated wards.
Selene stood in the council chamber, the map of the realm spread before her, her brow furrowed as she listened to the report.
"Someone is siphoning power from the outer rings," said Naeria grimly. "The sacred markers are being drained. Bent. Twisted."
Kael crossed his arms, gaze burning. "This isn't natural decay. It's coordinated."
Naeria nodded. "A rival source."
Selene's fingers tightened on the edge of the table. "A rogue Lunari?"
Naeria hesitated. "We thought none remained."
"They thought the same about me," Selene said.
---
That night, Selene wandered the outer gardens of the Moonspire Temple, following the strange pulse of unease that beat against her instincts like a warning drum. She felt it under her skin, in her womb, in the shimmering presence of her unborn twins.
They sensed the coming storm.
She wasn't surprised when a voice echoed through the mist.
"You don't deserve it."
Selene spun.
A woman stepped forward from the shadows. Tall. Pale. Elegant. Her hair was white-gold, braided with onyx thread. Her eyes, sharp as obsidian.
"I felt it when you touched Vireya," the woman said. "Your awakening screamed across every bloodline."
"Who are you?" Selene asked, pulse quickening.
The woman stepped closer, boots silent on the stone. "I am Ysara. Daughter of Lunaria's hidden twin. Your cousin. And the true heir."
Selene stared. "That's not possible. No record—"
"Of course not," Ysara sneered. "My mother was erased. She chose a shadow path—was cast out for refusing the Flame. But we survived in the hollows. In silence. In pain."
Kael appeared in a blur, teeth bared, sword drawn. "Step away from her."
Ysara's gaze didn't flicker. "So predictable. Alpha guard dog."
Selene stepped in front of him. "What do you want?"
"I want what was stolen. You wear the crown of a legacy your ancestors destroyed. I want Vireya. I want the Moonborn line. And if you won't give it to me…"
Her smile sharpened.
"I'll take it."
---
The confrontation didn't end in blood.
Ysara turned and disappeared into mist, leaving only the echo of her threat behind.
But the message was clear:
She was coming back—with more than words next time.
---
Selene called a war council.
Naeria, Rowan, Kael, Lira, and five Lunari elders sat in a sacred circle, their expressions grim.
"She's powerful," Naeria said. "Her blood is as pure as yours. Perhaps even darker."
"And she's not alone," Rowan added. "She has forged alliances with the Blood Witches. And possibly with rogue shifters from the Hollow Lands."
Kael paced. "We strike first."
"No," Selene said. "We prepare. The people need to see strength. But not bloodlust."
She stood. "We'll reinforce the wards, gather the children, and send our fastest messengers to the other Lunari fragments. It's time to stop hiding."
Lira met her eyes. "And if she tries to take the twins?"
Selene's magic flared around her like a storm.
"Then she dies screaming."
---
In the following days, Selene trained harder than ever.
Her body moved with purpose. Her magic responded faster, sharper, fueled by both maternal instinct and Luna-born power.
Kael sparred beside her. Fierce. Silent. Steady.
They were building more than defense.
They were building unity.
---
But in the ruins of the Hollow Lands, Ysara gathered her court.
Shattered wolves. Corrupted witches. Exiled Lunari who had tasted dark magic and survived.
A bastard army.
And in the center of it all, she held a stolen relic: a shard of the Moonfang, the ancient blade wielded by Selene's bloodline.
With it, she could mirror the Moonborn's power.
Warp it.
Weaponize it.
"She carries twins," Ysara whispered to the shard. "Let her bleed, and the prophecy breaks."
Her wolves howled.
---
That night, Selene sat alone in the moon-bathed temple garden, her thoughts spiraling.
Kael joined her, pressing a warm hand to her swollen belly.
"You're worried," he said.
"They're after them," she whispered. "Not just me. The bond. The future."
"They won't touch them."
"I don't know if I'm strong enough."
Kael gently turned her chin toward him. "Selene. You stood before death. Faced Ashar. United a people broken by centuries of silence. You carry life inside you that pulses with starlight. You are the strongest soul I've ever known."
She blinked back tears.
And kissed him like it was the first time again.
---
When they made love that night, it was slow and sacred.
No rush. No desperation.
Just skin, breath, and the quiet understanding that this peace was borrowed.
Kael worshipped every part of her—every scar, every curve, every soft moan. And Selene gave herself to him wholly, letting his strength soothe the rage rising in her chest.
Their bond pulsed with magic.
Their breath moved as one.
Their hearts burned brighter than the moon.
And when it was over, Selene whispered into the night:
"Let her come."
---
Far away, Ysara opened a mirror of dark glass, watching them.
Watching her.
And in the reflection, her lips curled.
"I intend to."
---