The palace breathed with silence.
Not the peace of a resting kingdom, but the kind of silence that rembered screams. That clung to broken stone and bloodstained walls like the last wisps of smoke after a fire. My boots echoed against cracked marble, each step ringing hollow through the ruined corridors I once called ho.
I ran my fingers along the blackened edges of the archways, remnants of carvings that once sang of the Moon Goddess’s glory. My glory. These were the halls I was ant to protect, the world I was ant to rule.
Instead, I had watched it fall—twice.
Faint moonlight filtered in through broken windows, bathing the dust in silver. I paused at a place where the ceiling had collapsed entirely. Stars blinked down from a shattered sky, and for a mont, I could almost hear the palace as it had once been: alive, warm, full of laughter and stories and wolves who looked to not just for power but for hope.
It was gone now.
But I was still here.
A quiet sound behind drew my attention. A heartbeat. Familiar, steady.
"Kieran," I murmured without turning.
He stepped into the ruined corridor, his coat streaked with dust and dried blood, his arms crossed tightly across his chest like he didn’t quite know how to stand in a palace without walls.
"I figured you’d be here," he said, voice low.
I turned to face him. He looked tired—shoulders bowed, eyes ringed in shadow—but there was steel under his exhaustion. The kind of strength born from surviving the unimaginable.
"How’s it going?" I asked.
"We’re holding," he said. "The east wing is secure. Wolves from the northern ranges arrived earlier—they’re helping clear debris, rebuild what we can. But..." He hesitated, his jaw tightening.
"But the darkness still lingers," I finished for him.
He nodded once. "Like a sickness in the stone. So places refuse to let go of it."
We stood in silence. The sa silence we’d fought through. Lived through. Lost everything through.
"I’ve already made my decision," I said quietly.
Kieran’s eyes darkened. "Athena..."
"It’s ti."
The words settled between us like a falling blade.
Kieran exhaled slowly, his arms dropping to his sides. "You’re leaving."
"Yes." I turned back to the broken window, letting the moonlight bathe my face. "I have to."
"You’ve only just gotten back your mories. Your power still hasn’t fully awakened.
"Exactly." I glanced over my shoulder. "Because I’ve only touched the edge of what I am. What I was. And what I need to be."
Kieran stepped forward. "Do you even know where you’re going?"
"No," I admitted. "But the path will find . It always does."
"Athena..." His voice lowered, more uncertain now. "If you follow the path of the old gods, if you go looking for the pieces that were sealed away... there may be no coming back."
I turned to face him fully. The ruined moonlight kissed my skin, and for a breathless mont, I felt the divine stir beneath it—soft, ancient, angry.
"Then I won’t co back the sa," I said.
He flinched.
"I’ll co back ready."
Kieran stared at for a long ti. Then, slowly, he stepped closer and reached into the folds of his coat. He pulled out a small satchel and held it out.
"Dried bloodroot. For pain. Sky salt—for protection." He looked away. "And... a piece of my blade. The one I forged after your fall. I don’t know why, but... I think you might need it."
I took the satchel in silence. Our fingers brushed. His were rough, warm, real.
"Thank you."
"Don’t thank yet." His voice cracked. "Not until you co back."
I nodded once and turned away, the satchel heavy in my hand, the burden heavier in my chest.
"You’ll lead them while I’m gone?" I asked.
He didn’t hesitate. "To my last breath."
I began walking, the wind howling through the broken stones like a ghost’s breath.
Kieran called out behind , "Athena!"
I paused.
"You were never just the Moon Goddess to us. You were our heart."
I swallowed hard. "Then I’ll find the pieces of it. And I’ll bring it back to you."
And with that, I stepped into the darkness—toward the wilderness, toward the forgotten temples, toward the old gods and the power they sealed away inside .
I walked alone.
But I would return as everything they tried to destroy.
The corridors were quiet this ti. No echoing footsteps, no rubble being dragged, no guards giving orders. Just the whisper of my own breath and the hum of magic pulsing low under my skin like a second heartbeat.
I moved through the sacred wing of the palace—what was left of it, anyway. Ancient murals lay cracked and faded along the curved walls, their stories blurred by ti and fire. But one room still stood untouched, preserved by so residual divine power: the Healing Chamber.
I pushed open the tall obsidian doors, and the scent of burned herbs and glowing runes greeted . Cool, still air. Silence.
And Marcus.
He lay on a smooth bed of silverstone in the center of the room, wrapped in pale robes. Unconscious. Pale. But alive.
His chest rose and fell in shallow, steady breaths. The thick spell web laced around him glimred faintly with protective sigils. A few healers had done all they could. Now the rest was up to ti—and perhaps, to .
I stepped closer.
"Hey," I whispered, my voice catching as I reached out to touch him. "I should’ve co sooner. I know."
I knelt beside the bed and placed a hand gently over his heart.
Warm. Too warm.
He didn’t stir.
I closed my eyes, summoned the silver fire inside . A faint glow curled around my fingers and spread through my palm. It wasn’t destructive this ti. It was pure. Restorative.
"I’m leaving soon," I murmured. "But not without a promise."
The light deepened, sinking into him like water into dry earth.
"I’ll co back. With all of . I’ll fix what they broke. What he broke. You hear , Marcus?"
No answer.
Still, I leaned down and kissed his forehead—soft and swift, like sealing a vow.
"Rest," I whispered. "I’ll do the hard part."
I left him with my magic still humming in the air, lingering like a quiet blessing.
The wind was colder near the eastern watchtower. This side of the palace always felt lonelier sohow—like the stones rembered too much.
And he was there. Of course he was.
Lucas stood at the edge of the crumbling platform, staring out across the forests and fields beyond the castle walls. The last threads of sunlight painted his profile in gold and shadow.
I didn’t try to hide my footsteps. He turned before I even reached him.
"You’re leaving."
It wasn’t a question.
I walked up beside him, hands behind my back, eyes fixed on the darkening horizon. "There’s more to reclaim than this broken palace."
Silence stretched between us.
Then he said quietly, "Let co with you."
I turned to him.
His voice was raw, but steady. "I can help. You shouldn’t have to do this alone."
I studied him. There was a softness in his gaze I wasn’t sure I could survive right now. That tenderness. That guilt. That hope.
He would follow to the ends of every realm if I let him.
But I couldn’t.
"Not this ti," I said, voice gentle, not cruel. "I need to do this without you."
His jaw flexed. "Why?"
"Because part of what I need to reclaim is the version of that doesn’t need to be saved. The part of that died before any of this started." I paused. "Because if you co with , I won’t let myself break. And maybe I need to."
His eyes darkened. "So this is goodbye?"
"For now."
Lucas stepped closer. "Will I lose you?"
I felt the weight of his words in my bones. I wanted to lie. To say no. But lies were poison between us now.
"If I stay as I am," I said softly, "you’ll lose more than . You’ll lose everything."
He didn’t answer. Just stared at like he was morizing my face.
I reached up, brushed a hand down his cheek. "You’ll stay here. You’ll protect Lira. Kieran. Marcus. The kingdom. That’s your part."
"And you?" he asked, voice hoarse.
"I’ll bring back the goddess they couldn’t kill."
For a mont, we just stood there. The sky bruised deeper into twilight, the stars blinking into place like the gods were watching.
Then he pulled close, his hand splayed across my lower back, the other curled at the nape of my neck. Our foreheads touched.
No fire. No desperation. Just... stillness.
His lips brushed mine—soft, reverent, like a prayer he didn’t believe would be answered.
A kiss made of everything we couldn’t say.
A goodbye sealed in silence.
When we pulled apart, I saw it in his eyes—the promise he couldn’t speak.
So I did it for him.
"I’ll co back," I said. "Changed. Whole. But I will co back."
And then I turned before I could change my mind, the wind catching the ends of my cloak, the night swallowing the last of the sun.
I didn’t look back.
But I knew he watched until I was gone.
The torches along the palace walls burned low as I descended, each step taking deeper into the earth—into the sacred catacombs.
No one followed. No one could.
This path wasn’t ant for mortals, or even for wolves. Not anymore. Only one kind of being had permission to tread here. Only one kind of being could open what waited below.
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