Chapter 6: Three Days from Now

The morning light filtered softly through Caelora Manor's tall windows, casting gold-dusted shadows across the cream-colored stone floor.

Luna's footsteps were slow, deliberate. Cane tapping gently ahead of her, she followed the familiar rhythm of the hallway until she reached the carved oak door of Serion's study.

She paused, adjusted the small silk-wrapped box in her hand, and knocked twice.

A beat of silence.

Then his voice called out—calm, low, clipped. "Come in."

She opened the door carefully, stepping into the room that always smelled of old books, iron ink, and something cooler—like crushed mint leaves or mountain wind.

Serion sat behind his grand mahogany desk, reviewing correspondence, a gold fountain pen glinting in his hand. He wore a dark navy waistcoat today, crisp and neat. His silver hair fell slightly over his brow, and the light from the window sharpened his already severe features.

When his eyes lifted and settled on her, they softened—just slightly.

"Luna," he said, setting the pen aside.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you," she said with practiced gentleness.

"Never," he replied, rising to his feet with smooth precision. "You're up early."

"I wanted to see you."

His brow arched, but he said nothing. He waited as she stepped closer, moving carefully as if navigating blind—though she'd long since memorized the room.

She smiled and extended the small box. "I brought something for you."

He hesitated.

"You didn't have to," he said, taking the package slowly.

"I wanted to."

He untied the ribbon and opened the box. Inside lay a silver brooch—simple in design, shaped like a crescent moon, inlaid with a small white opal at the center. Clean. Understated. Elegant.

For a long moment, Serion said nothing.

Then he cleared his throat. "It's beautiful."

"I had Maela help me choose it," Luna added quietly. "I thought… it might go well with your coats. You're always dressed so severely."

He looked up at her again, and something in his gaze shifted.

Luna held her breath.

He closed the box slowly. "Thank you."

She smiled. "Do you like it?"

"Yes," he said. "Very much."

Then, after a pause: "Though I don't think I've ever seen you give me a gift before."

"Maybe that's something I should change," she said.

His mouth twitched faintly at the corner. A near-smile.

He gestured toward the two chairs near the window. "Sit. Have tea with me. I was just about to call for some."

Luna walked toward the chairs with practiced ease, letting her cane find the edge of the carpet before she gently lowered herself into the cushioned seat. Serion sat across from her.

A servant knocked lightly, and Serion gave a soft command. Moments later, tea was served—black with honey and a plate of almond biscuits.

The servant departed, and a quiet calm filled the room.

"I was surprised you asked to go to the market yesterday," Serion said after a moment.

"I was surprised you allowed it," Luna replied lightly.

He raised a brow. "I'm not a tyrant."

"You've been close."

He looked at her, half-expecting the words to carry accusation. But there was none—only quiet amusement.

"I was afraid," he admitted after a moment. "Still am."

"I know," she said gently. "But I want to live a little more freely now."

He picked up his teacup, gaze thoughtful. "And did you enjoy it?"

"I did," she said. "There was music in the plaza. A woman played a harp in the square. The flower carts were beautiful—at least, Maela said they were. I could smell the wild clover and plum blossoms."

"And the brooch?"

"From a silverware merchant near the gate. Maela said it reminded her of the moon."

Serion said nothing for a while, but Luna could see the slight softening in his features.

He stirred his tea once, then placed the spoon down with a soft clink. "You're… brighter."

She tilted her head. "Is that good or bad?"

"It's good," he said, voice lower. "I was starting to think I'd never see you speak like this again."

There was a silence between them that felt like held breath. A memory neither of them spoke aloud.

Luna looked down, voice quiet. "I don't want to waste what's left of my youth, Serion. I may not see the world with my eyes, but I can still experience it."

His fingers curled slightly on his teacup.

"You want to go out again," he said flatly.

"Yes," she admitted. "Not alone. Not recklessly. But… I'd like to explore more. Not just the market. Maybe the lake walk. Or the gardens by the north wall. Even the spring festivals…"

He looked at her.

Not through her—but into her.

His voice was soft, and for once without defense. "I never wanted to lock you away."

"I know," she whispered. "You did it to protect me."

"I still do."

Her fingers curled over the cane's handle.

"Then walk with me next time," she said. "Be my protector outside the manor walls too."

He was quiet for a long time.

Then he set the cup down, stood, and crossed the room. He looked out the window into the distance—the same place their parents had died beyond, on a road that vanished into forest.

And when he spoke, it was low. Firm.

"Three days from now, I'll be free of reports and meetings. If you still want to go, I'll take you."

Luna blinked. "You'll come with me?"

He turned, face unreadable. "I want to see it for myself. The places you visit. The smiles you give. I want to be sure you're safe."

Luna smiled. A real one.

"I'd like that," she said.

After their tea, Luna returned to her chambers, Maela fluttering at her side.

"Did you give him the brooch?" Maela asked eagerly.

"I did."

"What did he say?"

"He said he liked it."

Maela clapped her hands. "He hasn't smiled in weeks, my lady! Maybe this will help."

Luna smiled faintly, hiding her deeper thoughts.

The brooch was a gesture of warmth—but it was also a test. A piece of evidence. A detail to see whether Serion's memories would jog. Whether anything about the gift would trigger the old dreams or memories Luna herself had started to remember.

She had watched his reaction carefully.

Did he realized she could see?

He hadn't seen it.

But eventually, he would.

And she needed to be ready when he did.

That evening, she stood in her greenhouse, running her fingers lightly over the petals of pale blue orchids.

The sun was fading. The glass ceiling caught the orange hues of dusk, and the air smelled of mint, damp soil, and iris.

She let out a breath.

Velira was gathering information. The brooch had been delivered. Serion was beginning to open up again.

But time was ticking.

Varric Thorne—the apothecary—had vanished. That meant he had gone to get the potion or something else . If she could find out where, it might lead to the truth about the potion. About what Serion had been tricked into doing.

And about the cult that had been quietly building its web beneath the surface of noble society.

She would find them. One thread at a time.

But for now—

She smiled softly, watching the wind stir through the garden.

Three days.

For three days, she could be a sister. A noble girl. A ghost pretending to be fragile.

And when the day came, she would step outside with Serion at her side…

…and begin to unravel the world from the inside out.