Interlude — The Moonlight That Stayed

Luna was seventeen when the world began to notice her.

But she was only eight when she truly broke.

It happened on a night carved into her soul.

The memory had blurred with time—too painful to hold onto, yet too powerful to forget. And sometimes, like now, after walking through the realm of Spirit… the memory returned with terrifying clarity.

She sat alone by the fire Riven had built, his soft snoring a faint rhythm in the background. But her mind was far from the flickering flames.

Her fingers found the silver crescent pendant at her neck.

It was cracked now, slightly dented near the curve. But it still shimmered in moonlight, still hummed when her heart was quiet enough to listen.

She closed her eyes.

And the memory swept her away.

---

She had been hiding beneath the kitchen table.

The wind howled outside like it was angry, and her mother—beautiful, wild-eyed, powerful—had been whispering words Luna didn't understand. The candlelight flickered across her face as she knelt near the window, placing glowing stones in a circle.

> "Mama?" Luna had whispered.

> "Stay quiet, moonlight," her mother said, without turning around.

The wind grew stronger. Something else howled in the distance. Not wind.

Something worse.

Luna had clutched her knees. Her pendant—still new then—was clutched tightly in her little hand.

She didn't remember when the screaming started.

Only that it wasn't her mother's voice first.

It was a man's.

Then two more.

Then shouts. Magic. Shattering glass. A burst of red flame that cracked the door.

Her mother had risen slowly, like a queen made of fire and shadow.

> "You will not touch her."

That was the last thing she said.

---

Luna opened her eyes, heart aching, breath shaking.

She remembered the look on her mother's face—the calm right before she unleashed everything. Her magic had exploded like a dying star. The floor cracked, the air burned, and Luna had screamed from beneath the table…

Then silence.

And ash.

They never found her mother's body. Only the pendant, glowing softly in the ruins.

A silver crescent, still warm with love.

---

Back in the present, Luna wiped a tear from her cheek.

Seventeen.

She'd survived nine years since that night. Alone. Hiding. Fighting to exist in a world that kept pushing her down.

But now she wasn't that terrified little girl.

Now… she was standing.

Now… the kings answered her call.

Now… she carried her mother's fire in her blood.

> "You are not her. You are not him. You are YOU."

The words from the Spirit Realm echoed again.

And somehow, for the first time in years, she believed them.

She looked up at the moon, silver and soft through the trees.

> "Thank you, Mama," she whispered. "I'm still here."

The pendant pulsed once against her chest.

A soft, quiet warmth.

The moonlight that had never left.