Luna's POV
The moment I entered the sacred grounds, a heavy silence swept across the crowd before the whispers returned — sharper this time, like blades slicing through skin. The guards had cleared the path for me, but they couldn't shield me from the venom in their words.
"Look at her — the cursed princess."
"Just like her mother. Pretty face, empty soul."
"The shame of Lunaria… why did the gods even let her live?"
"She'll end up like her mother — humiliated, discarded, and forgotten."
"She should have been sent to the Slave Islands already."
"Maybe she will be. Might fetch a high price — she's beautiful, after all."
"If she's our last hope, we're already doomed."
"That cursed bloodline should have ended with the goddess's betrayal."
Each word felt like poison dripping down my spine. I kept walking, but inside, I was shrinking — folding into myself, trying to breathe.
It's okay… it's okay. They never respected my mother. Why would they respect me?
But… it still hurt.
I bit my lip hard. If only I had even a spark of power. Just enough to disappear. Or defend her name.
Then, I saw it.
The Tree of Fate.
It rose from the center of the clearing like a silent sentinel — old, immense, and pulsing with magic. Its silver roots glowed faintly against the earth, and from its delicate, crystalline branches, pale blue snow drifted gently to the ground. Only here was the air cold — cold enough to make me shiver.
I stepped forward slowly, every step echoing like thunder in my ears. The crowd faded behind me. Only the tree mattered now.
Right hand… just like Myra said.
I reached out. My fingers brushed the bark — softer than I'd imagined. Smooth, almost like silk. Cold, like breath caught in winter.
Then I heard it.
Breathing.
Calm. Rhythmic. Deep. Ancient.
Was… was the tree breathing?
> "Princess," a voice called gently behind me. A minister. "Please place your palm and offer your prayer."
I nodded slightly.
They're impatient. But I'm not ready… not yet…
The moment my palm pressed fully against the bark, everything else faded.
The world went still.
And somewhere deep within the silence… something began to stir.
"Princess Lunastia Celesthera Evandor Valeska, correct?" a deep voice rumbled from within the trunk.
Someone behind me whispered, "Answer the Tree, Princess."
"Y-yes," I managed to say.
"I have waited a thousand years for your arrival."
My arrival? For what?
"Why?" I asked, my voice barely above a breath.
A low, thunderous laugh rolled through the branches. "Do you not wish to know your power?"
Please… don't tell me I have none.
"Yes," I whispered. "What is it?"
"First, do you not wonder why you have shown no symptoms since birth?"
Was my mother cursed? Was it something else? I couldn't find the words.
"Your power was sealed, Lunastia," the Tree declared.
"Sealed?" The word felt heavy on my tongue.
"You, Princess Lunastia Celesthera Evandor Valeska… bear the mark of the Blue Wheel—the power to command Lunaria itself.
Sealed since birth… hidden, yet waiting.
You are the first since Zephyrius. The only one.
Change will follow you. Chaos too.
But remember—even light casts a shadow.
History will not forget your name. And neither will fate."
"What... what's happening?" I asked, my voice trembling. But there was no reply.
Instead, a soft green light began to glow from the heart of the tree. I instinctively stepped back, my eyes wide with confusion and fear. The light kept growing—brighter, stronger, pulsing with energy like a heartbeat.
Suddenly, its rays shot out toward me, wrapping around my body like invisible chains.
"M-Mother..." I whispered, a sudden wave of heat and pressure crashing through me.
Then—pain.
It hit me all at once. Searing, tearing pain in my chest.
"It hurts... It hurts...!" I gasped, my knees buckling beneath me.
Something inside me was breaking—no, awakening.
Duskvaria _____
A cold wind whispered through the towering spires of the obsidian palace. On a high balcony shrouded in shadow, a tall figure stood still—cloaked in a long black coat that veiled him from head to toe, save for his eyes.
Eyes like blood moons—burning red, watchful, and sharp as a blade.
From the gray sky above, a solitary crow swooped down in silence, its wings slicing through the wind. It landed delicately on the man's gloved hand, which he raised without a word. Clutched in its beak was a small, rolled parchment sealed in midnight wax.
He took the message, and the crow vanished into the mist as swiftly as it came.
His gaze flicked across the words once. Then again. A slow, dangerous smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
Without hesitation, he turned and moved swiftly down the stone corridor. Servants and guards in dark armor lined the hall, each one bowing low as he passed. None dared meet his gaze. The air shifted in his presence—denser, colder.
He didn't stop until he reached a towering set of black double doors, adorned with veins of diamond and emerald, ancient runes pulsing faintly across the surface.
He straightened his posture, brushing the wind from his coat, and cleared his throat.
"Your Majesty," he said, his voice a deep echo in the silence. "I bring news... joyous news."
A voice, low and venomous, slithered from within the shadowed chamber.
"Enter."
The man with the crimson eyes obeyed, stepping into the dimly lit room. Only the faint glow of a single candle flickered against the walls, casting trembling shadows. The air was thick with the scent of rare herbs and burning resin.
In the center of the room, submerged in a massive black marble tub, lay a man with wet, tousled hair as dark as midnight. His skin shimmered faintly under the candlelight, and his broad, scarred chest rose and fell with quiet intensity. When he turned, his piercing wolf-like eyes gleamed—a deadly mixture of power and pain.
"We've found it," the red-eyed man said, stepping closer. "The cure to your curse."
The man in the tub stilled. Then, slowly, he rose—water cascading from his body. His presence filled the room like thunder. He stepped out and walked toward a nearby obsidian table lined with crystal vials and ancient medicines. Taking a silver tin, he dabbed a powder along the veins of his neck before shrugging on a black coat.
"It's a girl," the messenger continued. "A princess of Lunaria. From a kingdom called Lunareth. Daughter of Queen Celesthera and King Evandor."
The man's hands froze.
"She holds a power that hasn't appeared in a thousand years… stronger even than Celesthera's. The power of the Blue Wheel. We thought she was powerless—but it seems Celesthera, or someone else, sealed it to keep her hidden. Now that the seal is breaking, her energy has awakened."
The wolf-eyed man's jaw clenched, his silence more telling than any words.
"But how do we get her?" the red-eyed man asked, cautious. "She's still just a girl, yes, but she's no ordinary girl anymore. If we wait too long, she'll be trained. Once that happens—"
"She'll be nearly impossible to take," the cursed man finished darkly. "Especially with my condition."
They stood in silence for a moment, the flickering candle casting a dance of light and shadow across their faces.
"We act now," he growled. "Before the world realizes what she truly is."