Chapter 24 – The King That Should Not Be

The voice faded.

But Luna stayed still.

Her legs were cold from sitting too long. The stream whispered nearby, but it didn't calm her. Not this time.

She touched her pendant—it was beating, soft and steady. Like a second heart.

That voice… We're watching. The seventh awaits.

What did that mean?

Who were "we"?

She glanced back. Zeph and Riven were still sleeping, curled near the low fire. For once, Zeph wasn't snoring. That scared her more than the voice.

The moon above was too bright. It didn't blink. It just watched.

Luna stood slowly, brushing dirt from her hands. Her body was tired, but something pulled her. Quietly, she stepped away from the firelight.

She didn't know where she was going.

She just knew the pendant was warm again. Leading her.

---

She walked deeper into the trees.

Past old roots, tangled brush, and half-frozen dew on leaves.

And then—she found it.

A stone arch.

Broken. Half-sunk in the ground. Covered in moss.

She blinked. It hadn't been here before.

Her breath caught.

Symbols carved into the stone shimmered faintly. Not any of the six elemental sigils.

This was different.

Older.

Wrong.

But familiar.

Her fingers hovered above one mark—a curved line that almost looked like a teardrop wrapped in flame.

Suddenly—

"Luna!"

Riven's voice behind her, sharp. She flinched.

He burst through the trees, sword unsheathed, eyes scanning.

Zeph followed, breathing hard, eyes wide. "Stars, woman, can you stop wandering into cursed ruins alone for one night?"

"I didn't mean to," she said. Her voice sounded small. "It just… pulled me."

Riven stepped forward, looking at the stone. His brow furrowed. "This isn't natural."

"No," she whispered. "It's not."

And then her pendant glowed again.

But not warm.

Not comforting.

This time it was cold. And the symbols lit up like fire.

The ground shook beneath them.

And Luna—before anyone could stop her—reached out and touched the stone.

---

The world blinked.

One moment she was standing in the woods.

The next—nothing.

No trees.

No ground.

No sound.

Just white. Endless white.

Then… footsteps.

She spun.

Someone was walking toward her—slow, deliberate.

A man. No, a figure. Cloaked in silver. No face. Just light. And behind him, a seventh sigil, floating in the air—shifting, pulsing, not holding any shape for long.

Luna's heart hammered.

"Who are you?" she asked.

The voice answered from everywhere at once.

"I am not a king. I am not bound. I am not meant to be found."

"Then why am I here?"

"Because you are the last key. The seal has cracked. You are awakening what should have stayed sleeping."

"I didn't ask for any of this."

A pause.

Then—

"Neither did the world. And yet, here we are."

---

Luna fell to her knees.

For the first time in a while—she didn't feel brave.

Not strong.

Not ready.

Just tired.

"I'm trying to be good," she whispered. "To help. To protect people. Why does it always feel like I'm breaking something when I do?"

There was silence.

Then a softer voice.

"Because creation and destruction wear the same mask when you hold too much power. The seventh does not give—it reflects."

Luna looked up, tears in her eyes.

"Are you the Seventh King?"

"No. I am what is left of him."

Then everything shattered—like glass breaking underwater.

---

She woke with a gasp.

Back in the forest.

Flat on the ground. Zeph was shaking her shoulder, his face pale.

"Luna—hey, hey, say something. Don't pass out on me, okay?"

She sat up fast. "I saw him. I think I saw the Seventh."

Riven was kneeling nearby. His eyes dark. "You weren't breathing for a moment."

"I was somewhere else. I heard his voice." She looked at them both, her voice shaking. "He's not a king anymore. He's broken. Shattered."

Zeph rubbed the back of his neck. "Great. So the final piece we need is cursed and falling apart. Love that."

Luna didn't laugh this time.

Because she remembered what he said.

> The seventh does not give—it reflects.

And she knew what that meant.

The final sigil wouldn't give her more power.

It would show her everything she's afraid to see.

---

They didn't speak much as they packed up camp. Luna moved slowly. Not from weakness—but from thought.

As they walked, Zeph stayed close again, sometimes humming quietly. Riven was quiet, stealing glances at her when he thought she wouldn't notice.

But she did.

And then—she made a mistake.

She stumbled. Just a little. Her foot caught on a root. Riven moved to catch her.

She pushed his hand away too fast.

"I'm fine," she snapped.

He froze.

So did Zeph.

She realized what she'd done.

But the pressure, the fear, the voice—it had all built up.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, looking away. "I just… I don't want to be touched right now."

Riven's voice was low. "You don't have to say sorry."

But the look in his eyes—hurt. Quiet. Hidden.

Zeph spoke up, breaking the tension.

"Okay, new rule. No more spooky sigils without a chaperone. Preferably me. I'm very comforting. Ask anyone."

Luna smiled weakly. "Noted."

---

That night, she stayed awake again.

But this time, she wasn't alone.

Zeph sat beside her near the fire, gently tossing pebbles into the dark.

"Hey, Luna?"

"Yeah?"

"You're still you. No matter what that... whatever-it-was said."

"I'm not so sure."

He glanced at her, serious for once.

"I am."

She looked at him.

He didn't smile. Didn't joke.

Just offered her silence—and presence.

And sometimes, that was more powerful than anything else.

---

Above them, the moon began to dim at the edges. Not gone. Not full.

But watching.

Always watching.

And far away, where the veil thinned, the Seventh Sigil stirred.

Not waiting to be claimed.

But waiting... to show Luna who she really was.

To be continued…