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Silence.

It wrapped around her like velvet. Neither warm nor cold, neither kind nor cruel—just still.

Avynna floated in an endless night. There was no floor beneath her feet, no horizon in the distance, no walls to confine her. Only stars—ancient, and pulsing softly like the last breaths of distant gods.

She blinked sharply as light broke through. A soft silver glow curled through the dark like mist.

Avynna turned, heart aching, breath stolen, and found herself staring into the eyes of the Moon Goddess.

She wasn’t as radiant as usual—no overwhelming brilliance, no blinding form—but rather softened. Her skin shimmered like pearl dust; her eyes held eons within them.

“You rest,” the Goddess said, her voice echoing both beside and within Avynna. “But your soul is not still.”

Avynna lowered her gaze, realizing for the first time that she was dressed in white—the same ceremonial gown she once wore the night Bavanda was born. Her fingers trembled.

“Am I… dead?”

The Goddess stepped forward, shaking her head. “No. Though you stand at the edge of life, your time has not ended.”

Avynna’s voice quivered. “Then why bring me here?”

“Because the world is shifting. Darkness has not been defeated, only delayed. And you, Avynna of the Lightborn, still carry purpose in your blood.”

“I don’t understand,” Avynna whispered. “We gave everything. We won, and yet…”

“You survived one war,” the Goddess said, her hand lightly touching Avynna’s chest. “But not the war. The final reckoning draws near, one that will demand more than swords and wolves. It will demand unity, courage, and sacrifice.”

Avynna’s breath hitched. “Bavanda…”

“She carries the flame,” the Goddess said softly. “But you are her roots. If she is to stand through the storm, she will need your strength beneath her feet.”

Tears slipped down Avynna’s cheeks. “I’m tired. I have no energy left in me… I nearly lost her. I don’t know how much I have left.”

The Goddess’s expression gentled, her silver eyes softening. “Draw strength from me, Avynna. I've always been there for you, haven't I? You are not alone. You were never alone.”

She reached forward, touching Avynna’s forehead.

A pulse of light surged through her, and in that instant, all of her memories flashed through her mind at once—her childhood, her rise to Luna, defeating Thesus, the first time Baron held her, her children’s laughter, her people’s songs. The weight of every scar. The fire of every triumph.

“You are still my vessel, Avynna. Time does not strip you of your essence. Power still lives in your bones.”

The stars dimmed. The space around them quaked.

“Tribulations will come,” the Goddess warned. “So I need you to stand strong. For your people. For your daughter.”

Avynna tried to speak, but only tears came. The Goddess turned, fading with the stars.

And Avynna stood there, heart pounding, light flowing in her veins—unable to wake… but unable to forget.

Meanwhile,

Far across the veil of the living—beneath layers of cursed stone and withered roots—a citadel breathed shadows.

Inside it, a throne of bone cracked beneath the weight of a cloaked figure.

He was ancient and new all at once. His skin shimmered with dying embers, his mouth never visible beneath his hood, yet his voice echoed like a curse across time.

A raven flew in through the high arches, cloaked in smoke. It landed before him and transformed into a hunched shadow-creature, trembling.

“My lord…” the creature hissed, bowing so low its face touched the obsidian floor. “The girl, Selene. She has failed.”

Silence.

A silence so heavy the walls seemed to bleed darkness.

Then, a whisper broke through it. “What did you say?”

“She—she was unmasked. Bavanda returned. She was defeated.”

The cloaked figure slowly rose. His entire body crackled as black smoke coiled off his skin.

“That’s three failures,” he growled, voice rising with a power that cracked the stone. “First Theresa. Then Valchren. Now Selene.”

He turned, and where his feet touched the floor, rot spread like ink.

“They were meant to weaken the line. To splinter the wolves from the inside. And yet…”

He snarled and slammed his hand down.

The entire hall trembled, a fissure ripping up one of the stone columns. Screams echoed from chained spirits below, writhing in torment.

“…they still rise,” he whispered darkly. “Avynna still lives. Bavanda is awakening. And now… she glows like the moon herself.”

The minion whimpered, crawling backward. “What would you have us do, master?”

The cloaked figure turned, and from his palm, a dark flame ignited—one laced with gold and green, corrupted celestial energy.

“It’s time to tear down the veil,” he said, voice like falling graves. “Let them prepare. Let them feel peace for a while longer. And then…”

He raised his hand to the sky.

“…we will consume their gods.”

The shadows screamed with him.

***

The infirmary was quiet, awfully quiet.

It had been two days since Selene's deception was shattered. Two days since the skies themselves seemed to hold their breath.

Avynna had not stirred once.

Wrapped in white linen, her skin pale, her chest barely rising, she looked more like a statue than the fierce Luna who once commanded armies. The light Bavanda had poured into her had closed the wound, but it was clear the damage had gone deeper, touched something spiritual. Like Selene’s strike had not only pierced her flesh, but torn through her soul.

Bavanda sat beside her mother now, unmoving. Her fingers brushed her mother’s knuckles gently. She hadn’t spoken in hours.

There were flowers beside the bed. A half-eaten bowl of broth. A few silent warriors stood watch outside the door.

But Bavanda felt completely alone.

“I should’ve seen it,” she whispered, voice cracking. “The way Selene looked at you… at all of us. I should have known she would strike back..”

She paused, then clenched her jaw, the tears returning. “I came back too late.”

Avynna, of course, didn’t respond.

Bavanda hung her head, shoulders trembling. “You told me once… when I was little, that if I ever got lost, I’d just have to follow the sound of your voice and I’d find my way home.”

Her voice broke. “But I think you’re the one who’s lost now. And I don’t know if I’m strong enough to guide you back.”

Behind her, the door creaked open gently. Loco didn’t speak. He simply entered, closed the door behind him, and sat beside her.

He looked like he hadn’t slept either. His shirt was wrinkled, knuckles still bruised from the last fight. He held a bag of bandages and ointments, offering no words as he set them down gently on the table beside her.

Only then did Bavanda shift her gaze toward him. For a long moment, they just stared at each other.

Everything that had happened between them in the past few weeks hovered in the air like smoke that refused to clear.

“…You’re hurt,” she finally murmured.

Loco glanced at his side. “Just bruised. Nothing compared to what you’ve been through.”

“You don’t have to sit here with me.”

“I want to sit here with you.”

Silence.

Bavanda sighed. “I can’t stop thinking about how close I came to never seeing her again. Or you. I should’ve… come back sooner.”

Loco shook his head. “No. You came back exactly when we needed you. I thought I lost you, Bavanda. Every day Selene was here, pretending to be you…I thought… you’d changed. That I had done something wrong. That I ruined us.”

“You didn’t,” she whispered, meeting his eyes. “The mistakes were mine, it was all my fault. Selene… she fed off that. She twisted it.”

His hands clenched. “I just didn’t want to admit it. Not after everything that happened between us. I was so desperate to believe I hadn’t lost you completely…”

“You didn’t,” she said, more firmly now. “I was still out there, fighting to survive. I never stopped thinking about you, Loco.”

He blinked hard, his throat bobbing.

“I’m sorry,” they both said at once.

Bavanda gave a weak laugh, then a shaky sigh. “I’m sorry for how I left. For all the confusion. For not saying what needed to be said.”

“And I’m sorry for letting my heart break so easily,” Loco murmured. “I should’ve had more faith in you. I should’ve known that no shadow could ever replace you.”

She looked at him, and for the first time in days, h
er lips parted in something resembling a smile. It didn’t last long.

Her eyes trailed back to Avynna. Somewhere, a voice whispered.

“…She might not wake up,”