Chapter 9:The Night She Almost Broke
The night was quiet—too quiet.
Ash floated through the air like forgotten prayers, and the wind howled across the ruins like it was mourning too. Luna stepped carefully over what once might have been homes. Walls stood half-broken. Doors hung open like mouths mid-scream.
She didn't know why she had come here.
Her steps had led her without thought, as if some ancient thread pulled her heart through the hollow of this place. It smelled of burned wood, dust, and something worse—emptiness.
Luna paused at the center of what might have been a square. A shattered well yawned open beside her. Her boots stopped moving.
The silence pressed in.
She exhaled—slow, ragged. Her breath felt like it scraped the inside of her throat.
Then, she sat down.
Not with grace. Not with poise. But like a girl who had been holding up the sky too long.
Her hands trembled as she pressed her palms to her face.
> "You have to stay strong, Luna." "You can't fall apart." "Not now. Not ever."
The words rang in her mind like chains. But tonight… she didn't believe them.
Her heart thudded loudly, and her throat tightened until it ached. The weight she carried—the pain, the expectations, the elemental power burning in her chest—it wasn't light anymore.
She wanted to scream. But all that came out was a whisper.
> "I'm so tired."
She pressed her hands against the ground to steady herself—and felt something hard beneath the ash.
Curious, numb, she brushed the dirt aside.
A pendant.
Small. Silver. Cracked down the middle. A soft gleam shimmered across its surface, and in the center was a strange symbol: a circle broken by three jagged lines, like a shattered eye.
She didn't remember it. Not clearly.
But something about it... remembered her.
Her fingers closed around it, and a surge of warmth flickered in her chest—so soft, so unexpected, it made her eyes burn.
And then—softly, faintly—she heard her mother's voice in her memory:
> "When the world forgets you, Luna... remember who you are."
That was all it took.
The tears came silently.
She didn't cry like the strong girl she always pretended to be. She cried like someone who had held too much inside for too long. Her shoulders shook, and for once, she didn't try to hold herself together.
The wind carried her sobs away like secrets.
Somewhere on her wrist, a faint shimmer pulsed—one of her elemental marks glowing gently.
But Luna didn't call for power.
She didn't want to be saved.
Not by kings.
Not by anyone.
Minutes passed. Maybe more.
Then—
A sound. Faint. Like a gasp.
Luna's head lifted, quickly wiping her face.
A small figure crouched behind a collapsed wall. A child—no more than seven. Dirty, trembling, wide-eyed. Her clothes were torn, her lip bruised. She looked at Luna like she was both hope and fear.
Luna stood slowly.
She didn't say anything. Words felt too heavy.
She walked to the rubble and knelt beside the child. The girl flinched, but Luna gently held out her hand.
The pendant dangled from her other fist, its crack catching moonlight.
The child whispered, "They said… they said only the pure ones would be spared…"
Luna froze.
"What?"
The girl's eyes filled with tears. "The men in black cloaks. They hurt people. They said we were cursed. They looked at our necks for marks…"
Luna's heart dropped.
She gently pulled the child into her arms. "You're not cursed," she whispered. "You're alive. That's all that matters."
As she helped the girl out from the rubble, her eyes fell once more to the pendant.
The symbol on it…
She looked around.
It was carved faintly into the broken stones. Repeated. Hidden. Worn. It had been here long before the fire.
> A mark… a message… or a warning.
She didn't know yet. But her gut told her one thing:
> This wasn't just a ruin.
And her story wasn't just about summoning kings anymore.
It was about truth.
As the wind quieted, Luna looked up—through cracked clouds, a single star blinked above her.
Tiny. Distant. But still burning.
> Just like her.
And the night she almost broke…
was also the night she remembered why she couldn't.